Chapter Text
And then it all comes crashing down with Cosima’s body in the lab.
Delphine can still feel Cosima in her arms from the moment when she’d panicked, forgotten all her most basic training and just tried to hold her, felt her jerking and choking and dying and tried to hold her close, to tell her it would be okay before her training kicked in, before she knelt on the tile with the man who was meant to be their savior and tried to stop her from choking on the blood that was meant to be keeping her alive.
She can see it behind her eyes, again and again, as she tries to focus on the face of the woman in front of her--not Cosima, she tells herself again, not Cosima, not Cosima.
“How is she?” Rachel sits differently than Cosima, dresses differently than Cosima, her blonde bob is as different from Cosima’s black dreadlocks as hair could be.
And she is different in the most important way, her voice is nothing like Cosima’s gentle golden champagne. Rachel is yellow flames stretched thin, nearly the same shade as the sound of high heels against tile. If her world hadn’t just crashed to pieces, Delphine would almost find it funny.
“The growths have spread from Cosima’s uterus and lungs to her esophagus, all her epithelial tissue, and, now, her kidneys.” When the kidneys go, the liver follows, she remembers one of her teachers lecturing, voice dove grey. And when the liver goes, so does the rest.
If the growths spread much further through Cosima’s lungs, she will stop being able to breathe, if they infringe on her trachea she may have to be intubated, if they even touch her pancreas--
“We know there’s a way,” Rachel interrupts, as if she’s been reading Delphine’s mind. Her eyes are Cosima’s eyes, russet and warm and somehow earnest, somehow hopeful.
“Yes,” she agrees, almost unwillingly--because maybe Rachel is sincere, maybe Rachel will help, and Delphine needs--needs--someone to talk to about the things she can’t say to Cosima. “But it’s Kira.”
“Only until we can buy the time for Duncan to find a cure. We need to convince Sarah that we have no designs beyond that treatment,” and Delphine doesn’t miss the we.
“Duncan was one thing, but her daughter…”
“Please. Things are different now. I’ve been lied to as well.” Rachel has been, Delphine knows, and they need DYAD to save Cosima.
“She won’t believe you?”
“Do you?”
“Ah…” No, but I need to use you. “I am in the middle, committed to my subject.”
“Well said,” Rachel says and they smile at each other, playing the same game for different ends. “Doctor Cormier, I’d like you to take over as interim director of the program.”
“Me?”
“The chair is vacant,” and Rachel’s voice flickers like flames with something like emotion and Delphine doesn’t know what it is but it’s there, it’s possible Rachel is changing after all, “You understand the human side and the science. You’d be a wonderful ambassador.”
“And you need to sway Sarah.”
“It’s not a bribe, or a ploy.”
Of course it isn’t, Delphine thinks, you are just handing me what you know I want on a silver platter after asking me to persuade a mother to use her child.
Aldous is dead but there is that old saying, cut off one head and two grow in its place.
But Rachel--Rachel has been betrayed, Rachel could become ill as well, as cold as Rachel is, they are her sisters and Cosima is dying--and maybe Delphine can use her.
“You’re uniquely qualified. We could take this program in an entirely new direction.”
I could save Cosima.
---------------
Delphine isn’t sure how she ever mistook Sarah for Cosima, as identical as their faces are.
Sarah’s voice is rough, liquid dark gold, arcing through the air and twisting with her foster mother’s burnt orange, rushing for Delphine’s throat.
She wonders if Kira’s inherited that bright color--she doesn’t think they’ll ever let her close enough to the child to find out.
She can understand how she must look to the mothers, the wolf not even hiding in sheep’s clothing anymore, asking them to send their most precious daughter into the den, but they do not look deeper.
Rachel is invested, the clones all need this, and Delphine is sorry, she is so sorry because this is not what she wants to do but what she needs, and she doesn’t need them to tell her how horrible what Delphine is asking is, she knows, and she would never, for herself she would never.
But oh, she would burn the world to protect the sparkle of Cosima’s voice.
“Sarah,” she says as the woman tries to shut her out of the house. “I am so sorry.”
“Yeah,” the woman scoffs, then stops at something in Delphine’s face. “This really is her only chance?”
“She is...so ill,” Delphine admits, nearly bursting into tears in the doorway of her lover’s clone’s foster mother’s home. “I want there to be another way.”
“Doesn’t stop you from using this one though.”
“No.” She meets Sarah’s eyes now, recognizing that hardness there, that survival instinct that Cosima has never had to develop. For a wild moment she wonders what it would have been like to have a mother like Sarah, fierce and strong, instead of the Maman she remembers in cerulean sobs and a closed bedroom door. “Not when Cosima is at stake.”
Sarah stares at her for a long moment, opens her mouth as if to speak, and then closes the door in Delphine’s face.
---------------
“What have you done?”
I have been used, I was an unwilling betrayer, I was a fool and a child is lost, all the words are on the tip of her tongue, but her breath catches and escapes as a sob.
“Delphine,” and Cosima sounds scared now, not reaching out for Delphine, not pulling her close the way she normally does so easily. “What have you done? Is it something with the samples--”
“Kira.” The word feels ripped from her throat and she hears Cosima’s breath stop but she doesn’t turn around, can’t and won’t watch Cosima’s face crumble as she realizes what a fool Delphine has been again, that Delphine has destroyed everything again. “Rachel has Kira.”
“Oh God.” She takes a breath to speak and starts to cough and Delphine sobs again, her world turning dark for a moment as Cosima clears her throat, sitting up fully. “Is she…”
“Unharmed. Rachel had a room prepared--she ordered a bed, curtains,” Delphine half-laughs at the ridiculousness of the situation--a woman cold enough to hide stem cell treatments from her dying sister, but who still thinks of pink curtains for the room of the child she abducted. “She has wanted Kira, to control Sarah--if she harms Kira, she will lose that.”
“And Sarah?” Cosima is so scared, her voice so small, a whisper of champagne, and Delphine hates herself for it. Delphine shakes her head, leaning forward to cover her face in trembling hands. She doesn’t know, Rachel will be trying to keep her at bay now, but both Delphine and Cosima know that if DYAD has the daughter, the mother will follow.
“Delphine, look at me.” She nearly jumps at the feeling of Cosima’s hand on her shoulder, nearly flinches away from the suspicion and flat, hard gold in Cosima’s voice. “Did you give Rachel Kira?”
“No!” She isn’t sure if she wants to hold Cosima or hurt herself; what she does know is that she is frustrated and guilty and a fool-- “I would not--Rachel tricked me--I would never give them Sarah’s child, not willingly, not--” Not if there was another way.
“Okay.” Cosima’s hand shifts, going to rub Delphine’s arm instead of holding her shoulder, slipping down her arm until their fingers entwine. “I believe you.”
“Sarah will never forgive me.”
“We’ll deal with Sarah.” Cosima’s free hand slips on her glasses. Her other hand doesn’t leave Delphine’s. “In fact, we’ll get Sarah out of here--she’ll be here within the hour, I’m sure--and get Kira somewhere far, far away from DYAD’s reach. We just need a plan.”
I can get Rachel’s itinerary, she’s meant to say, or I may know where Rachel is keeping Kira, or We could use what we’ve learned from Duncan as leverage.
“You are a marvel,” is what comes out instead.
“Yeah?”
“Oui. You have not even asked about the marrow.”
“We’ve still got it?” Cosima’s voice is a hushed and pale gold whisper, the sound of someone hoping to hope, and despite it all it puts a smile on Delphine’s face.
“We’ve still got it,” Delphine murmurs back, watching the tiny grin grow on Cosima’s face, the tiny bit of hope growing in her eyes. “You have a real chance, cherie. We can beat this.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we might actually beat this.” Cosima stops to clear her throat, fingers rubbing briefly at the still-unfamiliar cannula that reminds them both of just how much is at stake. “But first, Sarah and Kira.”
“Rachel will be keeping them close, but as director I may be able to at least delay whatever she has planned for Sarah, at least for tonight. In the morning we can develop a proper plan--but Cosima, you need your rest,” she adds, noticing how the smaller woman is already beginning to slump tiredly despite how short their conversation had been. “I am sorry, I should not have woken you--”
“They took Kira, of course you should’ve. My brain still works, even if my lungs are shit.”
“I will delay Rachel as long as I can,” Delphine promises, “Please get some sleep. I will set this right tomorrow, I promise.” She starts to stand but Cosima tightened her grip, tugging Delphine back toward the bed.
“Stay with me?”
“I do not think hospital beds were intended for two.”
“We’ll manage,” Cosima quips, and they do, surprisingly easily--Delphine has always been slender, and the bones are starting to jut out from underneath Cosima’s pale skin. Delphine can feel them, even through Cosima’s thick sweater, and tries not to think about it.
“Bonne nuit, ma belle cherie,” she murmurs instead, and Cosima tastes more metallic than before, tangs of copper and antiseptic, but she is still so very Cosima and Delphine will never not love kissing her.
Cosima kisses her back and closes her eyes and Delphine runs feather-light fingertips up and down Cosima’s spine, trying not to hold her too close so that Cosima will not realize how terrified Delphine is.
All they have is marrow. There is no guarantee that the gene therapy will be ready in time, that infection or graft versus host disease would not set in after the bone marrow transplant, that Cosima would not be caught again in whatever cat and mouse game Rachel and Sarah are playing.
All there is is Delphine, who was enough of a fool to let a child be abducted, to become a pawn when she thought she was being queen, Delphine who loves Cosima and will do whatever she must to keep her safe.
“Delphine?”
“You should be sleeping.”
“I’m not eight,” she replies petulantly, and it is so Cosima that Delphine has to smile. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I love you.”
“I love you,” Delphine responds, even though the words don’t feel like enough.
“No, I mean--” Cosima sighs, shifting out of Delphine’s embrace just enough for her to look Delphine in the eye. “I researched you, you know? I know about some of the stuff you did for Leekie, some of the experiments and trials you were involved in. And that was some really shady stuff. And I know that you’ve manipulated and lied to a lot of people. I know you’ve lied to me.”
Delphine opens her mouth, to defend herself or apologize, but Cosima just shakes her head and keeps talking.
“And I know that you see sounds, and prefer milk chocolate over dark, and like to play with my dreads when you think I’m asleep, and your forehead creases in the most adorable way when you’re concentrating, and your lips somehow always taste sweet. I know that you only do things when you think it’s right to do them, and I know I love you. I can’t trust you all the time and I don’t like some of the things you’ve done, but I get why you did them, and I love you.” Cosima is crying now and Delphine can feel the tears running down her own cheeks. “You love all of us. And I love all of you.”
Delphine presses her forehead to Cosima’s, shoulders shaking, and she can feel Cosima breathing shakily in her arms, for once from emotion rather than illness.
“Cosima,” she whispers once she can manage, “Ma cherie, I love you so much, you are my most precious thing in the world, je t’aime plus que le monde.”
“I know,” Cosima murmurs back. “That’s what scares me sometimes.”
Delphine doesn’t respond, because sometimes it scares her too, the knowledge that she would do anything for Cosima, the fact that she is drowning with guilt over what has happened to Sarah and her daughter but she feels no regret, she would do it all again because now Cosima has a chance.
“I need you, Delphine. I don’t...I’m not gonna make it without you.” The admission is in a small voice, champagne but without sparkle and the slightest tremble, a quiet confession of so much more--I’m afraid, I don’t want to die, I need your skill, I need your determination, I need your love, I need to not be alone in this world of science and wolves.
Cosima does not need to hear phrases like I need you as well, she doesn’t need the burden of You are all I have and love in this world, she cannot carry the weight of Delphine’s guilt or doubts or fears.
Cosima needs her.
“I will never leave you,” Delphine breathes, the words coming easily to her lips because this was something she’d decided so long ago. “I will never leave you.”
---------------
“You’ll be on the plane.”
There is no emotion in Rachel’s voice, there is no flare in the thin flame-yellow of her voice, no indication that she has just destroyed Delphine in the worst of ways.
“You have everything you wanted--everything DYAD wanted--you used me!” She is begging, or she is crying, or she is scrabbling for some scrap of pity, or she is doing all these things at once, because Rachel does not understand, Cosima needs her, they need to free Sarah and Kira, the bone marrow transplant needs to be done as soon as possible, Delphine is the best immunologist and Cosima needs her.
She needs Cosima.
“Please, let me say goodbye to Cosima,” and in another time and place she would be ashamed of herself, the woman who prides herself on being put together breaking down in an elevator, but if she can convince Rachel to let her see Cosima maybe they can put this right somehow, maybe they can run, maybe, maybe--
“Cosima will be well cared for, and Sarah’s procedure is imminent.”
All she can think is no, this cannot be happening, you cannot be so cold, no, Cosima will not be well cared for, Cosima will have Doctor Nealon and he will sit by and watch her decay in the name of advancement, no, we were meant to be together we were meant to free Sarah we were meant to undo my mistakes we were meant to be together.
“You forget, Doctor Cormier, none of this is personal.”
“I love her,” and it is as much a threat as it is a plea, she knows Cosima will die and she will do what she must to stop it, she will grovel at Rachel’s feet, but she is also angry, angry at Rachel, angry at herself. “And if you let her die without me it is personal.”
For a moment Rachel stops, and for a moment Delphine hopes, but then she is gone without even turning around.
And Delphine is alone.
She is but she isn’t, because there is a man behind her who does not bother to hide his gun, who does not bother pretending that he doesn’t feel disdain for the woman in front of him, who is so much bigger than she is and so clearly stronger and tells her in a voice the color of dead leaves that he will be escorting her to the airport. For her own safety, he says. Ms. Duncan doesn’t want her to do anything she’ll regret, he says.
Delphine sends a text.
She could send a plea for help that would only throw Cosima into more trouble, she could send a final apology which would only throw Cosima into worry and guilt, she could send one last declaration of love, but Delphine has never liked to live her life the way it happens in movies, with tearful confession-filled goodbyes.
She is a scientist, and so she settles for the facts.
It’s up to you now.
Five words, and Rachel’s schedule, and it is not nearly enough but Delphine has never been able to give Cosima enough, to give Cosima what she deserves.
But she had made Cosima a promise.
The elevator reaches the ground floor with a cherry-colored ding and Delphine has never detested the color red more as the man takes her arm, begins to steer her through the doors and toward a black DYAD car. The sort of car people go into and disappear forever.
She had made Cosima a promise.
The man is strong, free hand resting almost casually on his gun, his arm holding her just a bit too tightly, pushing her along just hard enough to stumble, and she is sure he is ex-military, one with a shady past, some of DYAD’s favorite employees.
But she had made Cosima a promise.
“Do you know, monsieur,” she says when the car is looming only a few paces ahead, the car that could take her somewhere safer, somewhere she could forget clones and conspiracies, somewhere she could start anew, somewhere away from Cosima, “That, even if I know I am doomed to fail, I always try to keep my promises?”
I will never leave you.
You do what you must for the ones you love.
I love her, and that makes this easy.
---------------
Flight 371 to Frankfurt takes off from Toronto Pearson International Airport with a piercing whine. The woman in seat 24A fidgets nervously, perfectly manicured nails tapping against the armrest. The man in seat 24C makes a faint sound of annoyance, leaning back in his seat.
Seat 24B, the seat of one Doctor Delphine Cormier, is empty.
Instead Delphine runs, stumbles, gasps for breath, through alleys in a city she is not welcome in toward an address she only half-remembers, a sanctuary for a family she is not a part of. She runs like she once did as a child, through the fields behind the school, but now she is running from boys armed with guns instead of sticks, across rough concrete instead of through grass.
She has been hit, or perhaps grazed with a shot, or perhaps both, blood hitting the pavement as she runs, burning fire that isn’t just sore muscles screaming through her body. The plane tickets are somewhere far behind her, her coat dropped a few blocks back, and she isn’t sure when she ran out of her impractical shoes but she can feel every sharp bit of pavement in her soles.
She is alone, and she is being hunted, but she is not caught, she is not theirs, she is running toward uncertainty and fear and pain and Cosima.
Her bare feet slap a pink sound against the ground.
A sound like sunrise.
A sound like hope.