Wow, welcome to the trip, man.

make me choose: helena or alison 

In this universe, she idly doodled about pocket universes and bubbles within bubbles. Each choice was a split and there were thousands upon millions of version of herself floating in other dimensions. The only question was, which one was this one.

“You too,” she finally smiled, “The hair, I mean. Looks good from over here…” She took a walk around, dragging the oxygen tank behind her as she examined this Other Cosima, Alternate Cosima. How would they differentiate? How would they explain if anyone discovered. Allison would freak, Sarah would freak; No one could know. Oh god, if DYAD knew.

“Explain. Tell me how you got here, and why you came. The science alone is worth gushing over!” she breathed with bubbling, scientific excitement. She was here and there; a giddy laugh was building in her chest, filtering through the corners of her mouth and spreading it wide.

     Jesus. She hardly even remembers herself, how she used to be, all science and excitement bottled into something so volatile. There’s something that twists at the pit of her stomach at how she used to be, and the fact that she’s face to face with someone who immediately sees the magic… it reminds the alternate of how broken she’s become. 

     Her opposite is reaching out to touch, hesitating, and she knows she’s thinking of the butterfly effect. “Dude, no, it’s totally fine, worlds aren’t gonna – you know. Blow up or disintegrate or make spiders the dominant species or whatever.” Her hand flicks errantly, 

     And she even smiles, something a bit ragged and worn, but still there. She’s so much more subdued. (How much has the one rooted in this universe gone through?) She reaches out as well, placing her hand on her opposite’s pulse. Are their heartbeats the same? 

     The alternate laughs at the bubbling excitement, her own head dipping. “We already know the theories. I was just able to like, put it into practice. Rachel’s influence can be awesome if she’s on our side.” She pauses, then, brow drawing in the center of her face. 

“The cure, yes! I’ve been searching and re-working. Kira’s genetic matter seems to curb it, but I can’t keep using her as a guinea pig. She can’t be the only source that we can utilize...” she turned back from the pacing she’d taken up, dreadlocks bobbing back and forth, “ Did you mention Rachel in a positive light just a bit ago?”

“The suspicion is well-deserved, so I’ll take it.” Cosima answered, feeling as if she’d walked into something out of her depth. On sitletto’d heels, she gave a sidling step forward Arcadia. She was obviously the leader of this pack, and Cosima felt the urge to be as upfront as possible without ruining her cover.

“My name is Cosima Niehaus. I’m a scientist, working under the nose of DYAD to help my sisters… We’re all dying from a genetically programmed dysfunction in out DNA. DYAD did this to us, so I’m here to fix it. All of that is irrelevant to you, so um… let’s get down to why I came.” She took a deep breath, or rather tried. Rachel’s fashion sense could have explained her terribly sunny disposition; it was like wearing a modern corset.

“I was accidentally CC’d all the files that Rachel was given about this project. Wolfbane. I’ve seen footage, read files, and seen all the work-ups of your genetic sequences. I’ve never seen something so boggling…so beautiful.” There was an awe in her eyes as she looked around at each of their faces, the look of someone who was truly affected by the beauty of life all around her.

“I want to bust you out of here-all of you. I just need time to figure it out, and I can’t exactly ask for outside help… It’s very important that Rachel doesn’t get what she wants out of you.”

In any other situation, the wolf would have refused to listen—anyone associated with this corporation would have nothing useful to say, in her opinion. But she was stuck, and forced to listen to this woman’s explanation. Her brow furrowed, facial expression changing to slight confusion as she rambled on about clones. Cosima’s point of view on the entire project seemed to be of genuine interest, and judging from the way the scientist was looking at them in fascination, part of Arcadia believed her. 

She placed her hand to the glass, the mere glimpse of her tattoo of The Golden Ratio popping out of the sleeve of this borrowed blouse. She looked into the weary eyes of a woman, neither genetically here nor there, and smiled at her with the warmth of an unspoken, unnamed feeling. 

“In exchange for helping you escape, I would like a tissue and blood sample. It would be entirely up to you, but a life for a life doesn’t seem like a terrible trade.... I’ll give you time to mull it over, about 48 hours and then I’ll come back.” She seemed to take a moment, stealing herself up to the moment when she had to try and become Rachel. Being someone other than herself was never easy for Cosima; she tended to make a mess of it. Sarah and Alison seemed to have a true knack for it. But with a sudden shift of light in her eye, she turn on a heel and began to walk away. 

“48 hours.” she stated in Rachel’s voice, slipping out of the lab and back down to her own. She really needed a shower after this excursion into pro-clone’s skin.

@thegirlwiththebuffytattoo

Cosima had received the file in error, and would never have noticed it in her DYAD inbox if it had not come in flagged as [Top Priority]. She wasn’t sure why she’d been BCC’d but, she opened the e-mail anyway and then unzipped the file with haste.

Subject: Project Wolfbane

This is all we have, Rachel. Breathe nothing to Aldous; burn after reading.

There was no signed name and the e-mail source was nothing she’d seen before. But within the file were pages and pages of scanned handwritten notes, as well as genetic codes unlike Cosima had ever seen. She quickly copied them to her jump drive, then deleted all mention and trace from her work computer. At home, she’d made a cup of green tea, curled up on her couch and began to delve into these mysterious genetic markers. The hours passed, the sun rose, and 7 cups of tea and a sleeve of Fig Newtons later, she’d become more baffled and extremely aware that something altogether supernatural was occurring.

The subjects of Project Wolfbane were 8 in total, all kept within isolation in the underbelly of DYAD. From what she could piece together, the genetic make-up of each subject contained human genes, as well as extraneous markers from the lycan genus, and another set that was nothing she’d ever seen before. Whatever and wherever the genes came from, the subject were born this way. They were not genetically altered by DYAD; they’d been captured and kept as study subjects. 

She dove through the file again around lunchtime, chewing on a falafel and pita while she watched 12 individual videos of subjects. Some were simply interrogations. Where were they born, how long have they been as they were. Was this condition triggered by the circadian rhythms of the moon? But there were 3 videos of these subjects becoming something other. Merely documentations of nights when the moon was full and the unknown genes made them something between human and wolf. Cosima dropped her pita onto the plate, rewinding over and over to see what changed occurred. As a scientist, she was shivering with elation over something so brand-new and beautiful. She could have admired their groovy mutations for hours.

What chilled her enthusiasm was the treatment of the subjects. The abuse. She was one woman, one clone. She couldn’t do it all by herself, staging a coup and rescuing them. But if Rachel was dipping her fingers into every DYAD pie, she knew she had to do something and do it alone. She wouldn’t risk her sisters, no matter how invaluable their help would be. So as night felt, she readied herself to pull a Sarah. Go in, be sneaky and kick ass. Or maybe, just go in for some reconnaissance. 

She knew from lab blueprints that their were bio-metric scanners. Score one for being a clone, negative three for looking and sounding nothing like her. She had something passable in her closet, somewhere. And wigs were easy enough to find with a little effort. Her heart was racing, was she really going to do this?

In the mirror she hardly recognized herself, but any movement was a tip-off. Be quick, she told herself, then get gone.  At the scanner, her eye was read and her fingerprints taken. 

[Voice Recognition, state your name]

Shit, fuck, shit, she thought. Collecting all of her inner myna bird, she pipped out

Rachel Duncan.

Passable enough for the machine, the door released and she slipped inside the lab. She slipped down the long corridor, past the sampling and centrifuges and to the research computers. None were on and she didn’t have a cleared log-in. So she moved on to the containment area. There were 7 out of 8 subjects, with room for 4 more. Most of them were up and about, looking at her with rage. They’d seen her face before, but not the consciousness behind this one.

“I’m not Rachel.” she stated in her own voice, know that the cameras would pick up nothing but the visuals, ‘and I’m here to help.”

This was Arcadia’s fault. Had she not insisted on pursuing the bounty hanging over this corporation’s head figure, her pack wouldn’t have been compromised. Not a day went by that she didn’t replay the events in her mind, searching for a different outcome—of how she could have pulled off sparing the other’s lives while being the sole captor. Loyalty to their Alpha ran thicker than their fear, and here they were now, endlessly tortured and tested to further the human’s knowledge about the supernatural. 

Recovering after a severe trial earlier in the day, Arcadia sat upon the tiled floor, head resting against the wall. Her muscles ached something fierce, bruises and lacerations littering her figure, blood soaking through the white scrubs that adorned her body. At what point was it time to give up and throw in the towel? Months of this subjection had taken a toll on her spirit and her body—and it was only a matter of time until they tried to kill her kind off with silver. 

When the door’s air lock released, she gave a heavy sigh, head falling forward into her hands. Not again. Pushing herself to full height, and towering at 6 feet tall, the wolf hastily shuffled to the shatter proof glass that held the containment cell closed. A round of ferocious snarls resounded, slamming a fist against the glass to quiet her comrades. “Quiet,” she hissed, golden hues focusing on Rachel—the human who brought this upon her people. All because someone else needed her dead and didn’t have the skills necessary to see it through. 

The scent hit her before words were spoken, eyebrow raising in confusion at the woman standing before her. This had to be a trick—A devilish chuckle escaped as Arcadia shook her head, refusing to believe the ploy, “You expect us to believe that? You might not be Rachel…but you obviously work for DYAD. How else would you be able to navigate this far underground? I don’t trust you as far as I could through you. And trust me pet, that’s pretty damn far.”

“The suspicion is well-deserved, so I’ll take it.” Cosima answered, feeling as if she’d walked into something out of her depth. On sitletto’d heels, she gave a sidling step forward Arcadia. She was obviously the leader of this pack, and Cosima felt the urge to be as upfront as possible without ruining her cover.

“My name is Cosima Niehaus. I’m a scientist, working under the nose of DYAD to help my sisters... We’re all dying from a genetically programmed dysfunction in out DNA. DYAD did this to us, so I’m here to fix it. All of that is irrelevant to you, so um... let’s get down to why I came.” She took a deep breath, or rather tried. Rachel’s fashion sense could have explained her terribly sunny disposition; it was like wearing a modern corset.

“I was accidentally CC’d all the files that Rachel was given about this project. Wolfbane. I’ve seen footage, read files, and seen all the work-ups of your genetic sequences. I’ve never seen something so boggling...so beautiful.” There was an awe in her eyes as she looked around at each of their faces, the look of someone who was truly affected by the beauty of life all around her.

“You will find us in the midst of crowds, on college campuses, nail salons and suburban home fronts. You will find us running organizations of complex designs, getting sicker than sick with no help for the cause. You will find us drinking coffee and wondering just how many of us are out there. There are more than you can count. You’ve seen our face, you’ve thought nothing of it. We are one family, one of many. We are dying. We are our last hope.”

Cosima watched the cursor flicker over and over, her online penmanship looking very much like Baudelaire in New Times Roman. She didn’t think herself as staunch and piggishly romantic as the French poet had been, but her writing seemed two steps away from Fleurs du Mal. She rested her chin on a hand, biting her bottom lip in anticipation and she stifled a cough. 

This was a last ditch effort.

Somewhere out there was another clone like her, someone who was using their given intelligence in the same manner as she was. Someone out there who must have been brought up in the same way, with the same stresses on education that her parents had placed on her. Someone else whose years of pouring over books had weakened their eyes but not their resolve. Another Leda, just like her. Her twin, her seestra. 

Sarah and Helena had dodged the bullet genetically by splitting in the womb. It had canceled out the designed infertility, which gave Cosima more questions than answers. And she was getting so tired that brain fog felt as if it was always on the cusp of rolling in. She was simply not getting anywhere. She coughed heavily, pushing the cannula back up into her nostrils to grasp at the oxygen it provided. She’d only wear it in private now; she wanted everyone to  think she was getting better. And she disliked the looks.

She was supposed to be saving them all, but she couldn’t even save herself and time was fleeting now. She felt a little like John Keats, on the brink of writing “Bright Star”… she supposed the looming figure of Death made poets out of almost everyone.

“Find me.” she whispered as she typed, “ Find me, Seestra” 

     Elsewhere. Another universe. Lodged so far away from the one this budding Keats knows – a universe where everything’s so different yet completely the same (they’re dying, they’re dying, no help, nothing).

     Cosima’s own mind is no match for the troubles ahead. Just one genius waxing poetic about science and golden ratios cannot fix her sisters. (Especially not one with a mind this broken, not one with a brain that makes her think everyone is out to destroy her. Emi, Shay, Delphine, so many, too many–)

     Perhaps it’s the result of that broken mind that leads her to alternate worlds, to the multiple layer theory. Bubbles, pockets of universes that mirror their own surround them, and only with Scott’s brains and Rachel’s influences were they able to actually make the trek. 

     So she stands in the doorway, tired as ever, dark circles making her eyes seem dead. Her fingers curl, one hand against the door frame, the other holding and grasping her shoulder. It crosses over to her neck, feeling the pulse that rests there. 

     And she sees herself. (It quickens.)

     Cosima’s always felt the magic whenever she looks into eyes genetically identical to her own. Meeting a new sister never fails to amaze her. But… this is something different entirely. These aren’t identical eyes – they’re her own. 

     She tilts her head, her own cough tickling at the back of her throat. She suppresses it just to speak, voice low and throaty.

In this universe, she idly doodled about pocket universes and bubbles within bubbles. Each choice was a split and there were thousands upon millions of version of herself floating in other dimensions. The only question was, which one was this one.

“You too,” she finally smiled, “The hair, I mean. Looks good from over here...” She took a walk around, dragging the oxygen tank behind her as she examined this Other Cosima, Alternate Cosima. How would they differentiate? How would they explain if anyone discovered. Allison would freak, Sarah would freak; No one could know. Oh god, if DYAD knew.

“Explain. Tell me how you got here, and why you came. The science alone is worth gushing over!” she breathed with bubbling, scientific excitement. She was here and there; a giddy laugh was building in her chest, filtering through the corners of her mouth and spreading it wide.

Cosima Niehaus in the First Season 4 Trailer

The moon was high in the sky by the time Arcadia had finished wrapping up her last hit. She sighed as she exited the warehouse where she’d turned the bounty over to her client. It’d been a long night and all she wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for days—but that wasn’t the life of a hunter. While the air had a chill to it, the wolf wasn’t phased by the temperature at all. It was nice being your own personal space heater on nights like this. 

She slipped off her leather gloves and pulled a lighter out of her back pocket, striking the top open on her thigh and setting the gloves ablaze. She dropped the ignited items to the ground, the embers floating into the air. She followed the trail of embers into sky, her blue eyes meeting the moon as it shone it’s beaming light down onto her. Evolution was a marvelous thing. It allowed her to walk freely at night as she did during the day without having to worry about being a subject to the full moon. She had control to shift whenever she needed but aired on the side of caution. Lycans were excellent at covering up their secret and keeping the human and creature worlds separate. 

"I’m getting to old for this shit," The brunette muttered under her breath as she continued down the alley way that led to the main street. The street was desolate aside from a few stragglers but that didn’t mean she was alone. She began to head back to her rental apartment but the sound of rustling from across the way stopped her in her tracks. Her eyebrow shot up as the wolf inhaled, trying to identify the parties before saw them. Fear wafted across the way—-strong, primal. It drew the animal nearer the surface of her human form. This was the last thing she needed when all she wanted to do was fall face forward into a heap of pillows. 

As she was struggling against a nameless DYAD security personnel, a woman unknown to her made bold to interrupt. Cosima shook her head, as if imploring the stranger not to get involved with things way beyond the average comfort level. She also couldn't begin to feel guilty if this woman were made victim for meaning well.

"I'd keep walkin', lady. Ain't nothin' to see here." the man said, tightening his grip on Cosima even farther; she was going to have a handsome collection of bruises after this.

"Well, we can get to know each other if you want… you hungry?" 

She impulsively touched her glasses, and by consequence acknowledged the eyeliner underneath the lenses. She'd been doing her makeup the same way for years now, so any picture of her must have been older. How Helena had come to possess something like that was another matter entirely. 

Cosima moved past Helena and into the kitchen. She pulled out two vegetarian dinners- for the nights she didn't feel like going out or cooking- and put them into the microwave. As they began to cook, she turned back to the clone.

"So you knew who I was before you came here?" 

Delphine smiled as she came up behind her girlfriend and wrapped her arms around her waist, cuddling her body against hers. “Hmm and they smell amazing, chérie.” She placed a tender kiss on her cheek in proper greeting. “Good morning, Cosima.” 

Delphine giggled, both at her comment and the Eskimo kiss. Nudging her nose with hers was an affectionate gesture she loved. That filled with the declaration of love in her native tongue, it made her heart swell with love. “Je t’aime aussi.” She placed a loving kiss on the cute button nose of Cosima. “I never taught you that one.” The taller girl peered over the shorter one’s shoulder, but when she was ordered to sit, she did so.

"Mmm, they look so delicious, Cosima." This was something she definitely could get used to.. for the rest of her life.

She cut into her waffles with the side of her fork, stabbed the piece and put it in her mouth. Damn, she'd done well. She went about sectioning off another bite, but found herself pausing for a moment. A hand went over Delphine's, her pupils dilated and her fingers began to draw circles over the top of her lover's hand.

" I think I'm gonna book a flight after breakfast for us. What do y'say to that?"