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She is about to throw up any minute now, she is sure of it. She didn't sign up for any of this. The original idea was to open herself to new professional possibilities here, in the USA, where everything is achievable and everybody gets their chance to shine.
Not… this.
The man, at least 20 years older than her, bald head, wrinkles around his eyes that would make him look noble in any other situation, extends a hand with a folder in it towards her.
“So?” He slowly raises his eyebrows. “What do you say, Ms Cormier?”
She inhales. Exhales. Inhales.
“Do you realize what you are asking of me?” Merde, her voice is trembling, it isn’t supposed to be trembling, people here can smell fear from miles. Especially Aldous Leekie.
He gives her a condescending smile and she feels her fists clench. She really wants to punch him in the face.
“Come on, Delphine,” Her name escapes his lips with a drawl, like it’s something dirty, and she hates him, she hates herself, she hates everything. “It’s not like it would be your first time.”
Her hand slaps the desk before she can contain herself. He flinches only slightly.
“That was an accident!” She yells, her throat scratching. “And definitely not something I am proud of.”
The man spreads his hands a bit as if to say what can you do.
“And yet, here you are.”
Her whole body has to be shaking by now. It hadn't happened on purpose, that one time, but it had happened nonetheless. Miraculously, she had gotten away with it. Looking at the man in front of her, now she knows why.
Her hand snatches the folder from his grip and she turns around, quickly making her way to the door, because Dieu m'aide, the physical need to knock his teeth out is getting unbearable.
“There is another one,” He calls almost lazily after her, “but she’s a tough case. You should be grateful.”
The door slams after her.
Delphine’s gaze scans the paper sheets before her. The information is brief but still detailed enough and she thinks her eyes have to be bleeding by now, her mind rapidly absorbing the basics.
Name: Childs, Elizabeth
Sex: Female
Monitored by: Dierden, Paul [train accident]
Name: Hendrix, Alison
Sex: Female
Monitored by: Hendrix, Donald [ alcohol poisoning]
Name: Sawicki, Tony
Sex: Male (Assigned Female At Birth)
Monitored by: Garcia, Samuel [firearm]
Name: (Last name unknown), Helena
Sex: Female
Monitored by: Friedrich, Tomas [razor blade]
It’s more notes than orderly files, messy and chaotic like a high school student’s, but Delphine understands perfectly what all of it means. Name of the victim, sex, person who inflicted their death and the way they were murdered. In front of the law all these crimes have been masked as either suicide or an incident.
After all so many die every day.
There isn’t a legal, fair reason for these people to die. Except that they are a result of an illegal clone experiment which blew up spectacularly in its creators’ faces. The clones have grown up perfectly well and independent, just like any normally conceived child would.
Until they found each other.
It had been the cop’s fault, Elizabeth Childs, that’s why they had gotten rid of her first. Paul Dierden, her boyfriend slash monitor, who was responsible for her ‘accidental’ falling in front of a train, is on some tropical island now, provided for a lifetime as far as Delphine knows.
And this same thing has been promised to her as well. She will have enough money to finish her degree, maybe even get a doctorate. She will be able to bring her whole family here and make sure they have everything they need.
Her name will remain clean.
She casts an exasperated look upon two of the files, separated from the rest.
Name: Manning, Sarah
Sex: Female
Monitored by: Morrison, Cal
A tough case, Aldous had said. Has a child and a foster brother she’d protect at all costs. Simply refuses to die.
Her monitor is having difficulty being indubious and getting work done at the same time.
But there’s a perfect monitor for the second case.
Name: Niehaus, Cosima
Sex: Female
Monitored by: Cormier, Delphine
A friendly face with an adorably dorky grin and a dreaded ponytail is looking at her from the picture. The only one from the myriad of identicals with a smile on her face.
Nom de Dieu.
Drawing Cosima Niehaus’ attention is one of the easiest things Delphine has ever done. The girl is smart and sensible, this much is evident, but she is just as much a loner and an outcast. The only person in the big laboratory she has been communicating with is an awkward nerdy-looking guy who obviously just wants in her pants.
So Delphine doesn't really need to play some big theatrics. A hushed telephone talk, silence on the other end of the earphone, a few forced tears, hushed steps out of the lab, providently forgetting a couple of meaningless papers.
How did I stoop so low, passes through her mind as she stands, leaning up against the double glass in the corridor, waiting for her knight in shining armor to arrive.
“Hey, sorry. You just forgot this in the lab. Sorry.”
Delphine blinks a couple of times at the girl, slowly reaching to take the fake documents.
“Thank you,” Is all that comes to her mind.
Cosima shuffles around aimlessly, apparently wanting to say something more and not sure how to. It’s actually kind of endearing… it means her interest has been piqued which is everything at this point, really.
“I, um, did peek,” She admits, not knowing that is exactly what she was supposed to do. “You’re French. You have killer grades.”
So the files had been right. Fascinated by objects, ideas, people complex in their nature.
Just like her.
Delphine realizes it’s her turn to say something now.
“Thank you,” She repeats almost mechanically. Oh, wait. The fake story. All the crying and dramatic exits had to have some explanation. “Um, oh, God. I am so sorry, I am not usually like this.” Her fingers brush the fast drying tears off her face.
Cosima scrunches her eyebrows sympathetically.
“Oh. Bad break-up?”
“Yeah, well, we’re an ocean apart. So… yeah…” Good job, Cormier, now is a perfect time to forget how to not act suspiciously or like a total loser.
“Long distance never works,” Cosima replies, a hint of something dark in her tone. God, how many times has this girl gotten her heart broken?
“Um, you’re in microbiology too, right?”
Thank god she changes the topic because Delphine really can’t indulge herself in thoughts about her subject’s possibly unhappy love life. She isn’t supposed to think about her in any way except as a soon-to-be removed obstacle. And as her way to freedom and happiness - indirectly, of course.
“Yes, immunology. I study host-parasite relationships.” Leekie has done this on purpose, she just knows it.
“Oh, cool, cool.” Cosima nods, unconsciously lifting her hands as if to emphasize her point. “Yeah, I’m evo-devo.”
Delphine’s surprise is genuine when she frowns a little at her interlocutor. Americans and their incomprehensible slang are still very confusing to her.
“Evolutionary development,” It finally comes to mind.
She’s sure that Cosima’s hands have to be producing wind by now with their waving.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what we call it here.”
“Yeah,” Delphine agrees, just to reassure her that she’s understood and everything is alright.
“Yeah,” Cosima mumbles, an almost shy smile appearing on her lips.
Well, this seems really interesting. Little clone here definitely has affinity for French damsels in distress or else, she would be gone by now.
She should be encouraged.
Delphine reaches out and introduces herself with the most dashing smile she’s capable of. By the dorky way Cosima’s shoulder twitches when she breathes her own name as a response she guesses it has worked.
“Enchantée,” Delphine says just to test her boundaries.
The other girl’s grin is so obviously infatuated when she pronounces the word with her funny American accent.
It kind of takes Delphine’s mind off the fact that she might be at least a bit smitten too.
She shouldn’t be surprised as much as she is when Cosima kisses her. The girl hasn’t hidden her attraction towards Delphine at all and still the French woman thought (hoped) they would tip-toe around each other a bit longer.
And now she has to face the truth.
The girl has to die. Soon. Leekie is getting impatient.
“You have obviously gotten under her skin,” He had said to Delphine one day. “Take advantage of that. Strike when she least expects you to.”
Which means one exact thing. Surrender to her advances. Strip her to her core. Hit her when she’s at her weakest.
“Don’t you think it’s time we admit what this is really about?” Cosima questions with an unusually serious expression and Delphine wants to scream, Yes, I do, I will admit anything, I will tell you the truth, because this is killing me, this is not who I am. But she knows Cosima doesn’t mean that (and this is exactly who she is) so she lets her take the final two steps and press their lips together.
This girl, with her toothy grins and geeky way of speaking and wild gestures, this girl who is not real, not unique, who is just another of probably hundreds of copies, has grown on her. And what she has to do now is turn her back on her morals (she’s so good at that) and kiss back and possibly lead Cosima to the bed and have her way with her and then…
Her grip is precise enough not to leave any bruises. She knows how to make it look like a suicide. There has to be a rope somewhere in her handbag.
Delphine feels her hand rise, gently cupping Cosima’s face and detaching their mouths.
“I, um.” She stares helplessly at the other girl because what the hell are you supposed to say in a situation like that?
Cosima’s eyes widen and she’s trying to hide the panic in her voice when she says, “Oh, God, Delphine. Did I make a huge mistake?”
Yes. No. What did you do to me?
“No,” Delphine stumbles with her words, “I-I have to go.” She adds, already walking towards the door because she has to get out of here. “It-it’s okay.”
It’s not okay. It shouldn’t have gone this way at all.
But she can’t kill her.
Not when Cosima looks at her like that.
Like she’s falling in love with her.
Delphine ignores all of Leekie’s attempts to reach her, including phone calls and a few weirdly typed texts in the lines of y rnt u pickin up???
She needs some time to think this over.
Leekie gives her three days exactly. On the forth day there’s an envelope in her mailbox which she opens with trembling hands.
Name: Manning, Sarah
Sex: Female
Monitored by: Morrison, Cal [car accident]
And below, with even smaller letters: Manning, Kira taken for examinations
Which means this woman, Sarah, is dead and her daughter is now an orphan, taken by the institute that created her mother, being done to god knows what. Which means Cosima is the last one.
Delphine doesn’t even have time to run to the bathroom – she vomits all over the papers.
She has to kill Cosima.
She has to save her.
Maybe killing Cosima is the only way to save her.
Maybe in her other life she’ll be luckier, maybe she’ll be a perfectly normal person born the normal way, maybe in her other life Delphine wouldn’t exist.
Or maybe she would and something beautiful would become out of this.
But this is not an option now so Delphine throws in a couple of scientific terms in their conversation for a good measure, like they can justify her, like they can reduce her guilt, before kissing Cosima.
Kissing Cosima means she doesn’t have to say out loud everything she wants to say.
I’m sorry.
You do deserve to live.
I’m just selfish enough not to let you.
You have to understand me.
I’m falling in love with you and if I don’t kill you, it will kill me.
Kissing Cosima also means doing what she’s come here for in the first place. Kissing Cosima means tugging at her braids, pushing her cardigan off her shoulders, slipping her tongue inside her mouth.
Tasting all of her.
Delphine has no idea what to do but she has decided she will be the one doing things. She will try to pleasure Cosima, as much as she's capable of. She owes her at least that.
Cosima arches her back underneath her, a moan escaping her lips, eyes tightly shut. Good, Delphine thinks. It’s good that they’re closed.
Cosima won’t see the guilt in her own gaze.
Delphine won’t have the time to be sorry.
“Do it,” Cosima gasps and Delphine’s focused eyes look up at her in confusion.
The clone gives her a strained smile.
“You really think I don’t know why you’re here?” She rasps, voice thick with both arousal and accusation. “All my sisters are dead.”
Delphine’s fingers slip out of her numbly, all the heat suddenly leaving her. She just gapes at the naked girl like she doesn't know how they've found themselves in this situation (of course she does; it's her fault).
“Do it,” Cosima repeats indifferently. “I never expected anything less from you.”
Delphine continues staring at her like a total idiot, her fingers flexing and relaxing like she’s a puppet on strings.
Cosima sharply sits up and pushes her back – not strongly but enough to startle her.
“Fuck you, Delphine,” She mutters angrily but her voice is quivering dangerously. “Fuck you and the stupid institute you’re working for.”
The last sentence awakens something inside Delphine and before she has time to think it over, she jumps off the bed and grabs her underwear.
“Get dressed,” She commands quickly.
Cosima’s eyebrows rise to her hairline then her eyes narrow suspiciously.
“What-”
“Get dressed,” Delphine says again, leaving no room for a dispute, “we are getting out of here.”
Cosima’s legs swing on the side of the bed and her face is a pure embodiment of puzzlement.
“But-” She starts but Delphine waves her hand furiously.
“Fais chier, Cosima, put your clothes on!”
And because she has no idea what else to do, Cosima complies.
The thing is, Delphine has no idea either.
Except that she's not letting this girl die.