Orphan Black and Other Things

"Stop making me want something I can't have."

Alison/Beth

"You don't have to keep picking my ass up like this, Alison. I can't keep depending on you."

Alison looks up from the load of laundry she's throwing in, regarding Beth who is stationed on the couch, huddled in a blanket, hands wrapped around a mug.

"As I've already explained, about a dozen times, it's not a bother. The kids are at school, Donnie's at work...do you expect me to leave to your own devices? Drown in a pile of vomit? Hmm?"

Beth sighs. "That's exactly what you should do. I'm not worth it, Ali. And deep down, I think you know that."

"No, no I do not," she bristles, shutting the washer door hard. The sound reverberates through the basement and Beth winces. "And I don't appreciate you telling me what I think. Drink your tea, it'll help with the hangover."

"Alison. Stop."

She whips around, eyes flashing. "If you're going to continue to prattle on with this nonsense, Beth, I don't want to hear it."

"I want you to hear it. I want you to get your head out of your ass and listen. Okay?"

"No."

"Sit. Please."

Reluctantly, Alison walks over to the couch, perching on a cushion.

"You're putting everything at risk, helping me. Yourself, first and foremost. Your family. Your marriage. And for what? I'm not salvageable, Alison. This isn't going to just get better...the endless cycle of me drinking myself into oblivion. One day, you'll find me dead and I refuse to fucking to do that to you. It's not fair. You deserve so much more."

Alison meets her gaze, tears in her eyes. "Do you know what's really not fair?"

Beth clasps her fingers more tightly around ceramic, letting the warmth from the cup seep into weary bones.

"Try me, I guess."

"It's you, deciding that for me. Everyone wants to protect me...poor, fragile Alison. Well, screw that. I can handle things. I can make my own decisions and if I want to continue to scrape you off the floor and make you soup and hide you on my couch when no one's home, that's my choice to make, Beth. Do you hear me? My choice."

The back and forth is only contributing to her already pounding head. The painkillers Alison gave her earlier haven't quite kicked in and she's too tired to put up a fight much longer.

"Look, all I know is that eventually, something is going to have to give. You're not going to able to balance everything, Ali. And I won't be the reason why you---"

"No. That's not the real reason. I know it and so do you."

She exhales, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do."

Alison is close, close enough that their knees press together and Beth squeezes her eyes shut, bites her lip.

"I won't do this."

"Oh, I think we have to, though. We have to talk about the real reason you're pushing me away, Beth. It isn't just the drinking and it isn't that you're worried about everything becoming too overwhelming for me. It is those things, yes, but it's more than that, too."

"Alison," her chest is tight. "I can't."

"Please," Alison begs, desperate, "tell me the truth."

"You don't understand. I can't. Once I do, the stakes are even higher and---"

"Please. I just...I just need to hear you say it."

The pain in the base of her skull is almost unbearable now. "You already know."

"Beth."

The fear is wrapping itself around her throat. The reason why she's got to stop this, the explanation to why she keeps allowing Alison to come running, over and over.

The answer to why she continues to call her in the first place.

She doesn't look at her. "Stop making me want something I can't have."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Alison's shoulders fall, sees the relief in the gesture.

"There it is, then. Out in the open. Where do we go from here? Because for once," she laughs, wiping her eyes, "I have no idea."

"We don't go anywhere. After today, this is done. You block my number, you forget my name. We don't exist to each other."

"There's no way---"

"But right now, right at this moment, I'm going to let myself be taken care of. I'm going to close my eyes and I'm going to sleep and when you're ready to take me home, you can wake me up. For a few hours, I'll pretend I'm yours, Ali. Okay?"

Alison gulps, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over again, but she nods tightly, choking back a strangled sob.

"Come here."

She opens her arms and Beth falls into them, a sigh escaping her lips as Alison strokes her hair, her thumb rubbing circles across the tender spot on her temple.

"Got you, always."

Sarah/Helena

"Oi, Helena. Got here fast as I could. We were so bloody busy, I barely escaped," Sarah brushes her hands across the knees of her black jeans. "What's the emergency? Is it the boys? Where are they, anyhow?"

"They are with sestra Alison. They are fine. No emergency."

"No emergency?" Sarah stares, "then why the bloody hell did you sound so frantic on the phone, ey? Told me to come straight away. Thought someone was in trouble, the way you sounded."

"I did not mean to worry you, Sarah," Helena replies contritely. "Thank you for coming."

Sarah sighs, lowering herself to sit on a beanbag. "What's going on, Helena?"

"I have date."

"I don't think I heard you right. Sounded like you just said you have a date."

"Close mouth, you look like fish. Yes, I have date. Nice guy. Met at supermarket last week."

"Whoa, Helena, back up. You met a random bloke at the supermarket, of all places, and he asked you on a date?"

"Yes," Helena nods solemnly, "exactly what happened. Twins were crying and I knock over half the cereal display. Martin helped me pick up and we talked. He lives not far from here."

"Do you realize," Sarah sucks in a breath in an attempt to control herself, "do you realize how bloody insane this all is? You don't know him, Helena. He could be a serial killer for all you know. You're a mother now, you can't be doing stuff like this, yeah?"

As soon as the words leave her mouth, the irony hits.

"Alright, I get it," she swipes her knuckles across her mouth, "I'm probably the last person you want lecturing you. I've done more than my fair share of mucking things up with my kid over the years. But that's why you should listen to me, Helena. I know what I'm talking about. And I won't have you making the same mistakes."

The problem is, her twin is just as stubborn as she, if not moreso and when Helena squares her jaw, she knows this isn't an argument she's likely to win.

"Look," Sarah tries to speak rationally, "I'm just looking out for you. I want what's best for you. And my nephews. You've been through so much and I...I don't wanna see you hurt, is all."

At her display of vulnerability, Helena softens and puts her hand atop Sarah's.

"I know you do not, sestra. And I love you very much. You are good to me and to babies. But I'm not afraid. I will not introduce any man to babies until I am sure."

"Well, I'm afraid for both of us," she murmurs wearily. "I don't know how to convince you this is a bad idea. Have you talked to Alison about it?"

Helena nods. "She is watching babies tonight."

"And she's alright with this? She actually thinks this is a good idea? Bloody hell. It's all that "liver deep" business, isn't it? I should've known she'd encourage this insanity."

"Sarah!"

The sharpness of her name makes Sarah stop in her tracks. Her twin doesn't often raise her voice, but when she does, she means business.

"You are talking and talking," Helena flaps her fingers together, "but you are not listening."

"I'm sorry. You're right, I'm not. What do you wanna say?"

Helena takes both of Sarah's hands in hers. "Sestra, I know that you love me. Your love," she searches for the words, "treats me like little baby. Like I am Arthur or Donnie. You do not understand, sestra. I am grown up. I am lonely here. Sestra Alison and Donnie are great company, but they do not replace love. I want someone to love, Sarah. I deserve love."

The anguish in her voice makes Sarah swallow, hard, squeeze her fingers.

"Of course you do. If anyone in this whole bloody world deserves that, it's you, Helena. You're still so young...it's no wonder you want to meet someone."

"Thank you, Sarah. I promise, I will be careful."

"You can take care of yourself, I suppose. Don't know what I was thinking," Sarah laughs. "Listen, even though I know you're more than capable of holding your own, I'll always be there for you, yeah? Got you, always."

Helena pulls her into a tight hug. "I know that you do, sestra. And I have you."

"I'm lucky, ain't I?" Sarah wipes her eyes. "So, that's why you called me, then? To break the news in person?"

"Not just that," Helena admits. "I need help picking something to wear on date. Maybe I can borrow outfit?"

"I did say I got you, didn't I? I guess that includes wardrobe issues, too. C'mon, then," she throws an arm around her sister, "let's get you ready."

She stops, looks at Helena dead in the eye. "If Martin lays one hand on you that you don't want, he won't live to see tomorrow, that's a promise. You can tell him I said so."

"you're such an idiot"

Progeek

"I'm fairly certain I've nearly burnt your apartment down."

Cosima fights the urge to laugh, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder.

"Okay, I don't hear sirens on your end. And I didn't get a call from the fire department or the building manager, so..."

"Cosima, you're failing to understand what I'm saying. I attempted to make you dinner because you should be coming home shortly. The operative word is attempted."

She closes her laptop, grinning. "Rachel, sweetie...you've never cooked a thing in your life. I'm so flattered. But in what world did you think that was a good idea?"

"I thought I'd surprise you," her girlfriend replies, a touch defensively and Cosima knows she's struck a nerve. "You've been working extra hours at the laboratory and sometimes I know you don't get to eat until very late. I also know you've been consuming horrifying amounts of fast food, despite the Hello Fresh subscription I purchased you for your birthday..."

"No, no. Please don't think I'm not being appreciative, Rachel. I'm so appreciative. I just--"

Cosima stops, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What were you trying to make me?"

"Seared lamb with Moroccan couscous. Fresh asparagus on the side." Rachel's voice is contrite. "Obviously, I failed miserably."

"Don't say that. You didn't fail. That's actually super impressive. Especially for a first attempt."

Instantly, she regrets making light of the situation. Rachel was clearly trying to do something nice for her and even if the execution had been severely lacking, it was the thought that counts.

Besides, the thought of her big, bad high powered executive girlfriend being extra sensitive about making her a decent meal is pretty damn cute.

"Hey, I'm leaving this place in ten minutes. How about," Cosima drums her nails on the formica countertop, "I pick us up Thai from that really good spot down the street? How does that sound?"

"It sounds... acceptable," Rachel sniffs. "I'll have everything cleaned up by then."

"Cleaned up?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, when I said I nearly burnt down the building, I wasn't being factious. There was a need to use the fire extinguisher. No cause for alarm, though. Mr. Pickles was nowhere in the vicinity. I made certain of it. He's no worse for wear, either. In fact, he's in my lap as we speak, quite content."

Cosima has to pause to take all of this information in. The fact her tabby was snuggling up to Rachel was probably the most shocking of all. He was most decidedly not a lap cat and certainly not Rachel's lap. All Cosima can picture is his fur coating her pristine skirt suit.

"Um, you know what? I'm sure everything is fine. As long as you and Mr. Pickles are okay, no harm, no foul. And don't worry about any dishes. We can do them later."

"I'll buy you new pans, Cosima. And we can go sofa shopping as well."

A ripple of fear surges through her. "Wait. What happened to my couch?"

"Well, you see," Rachel begins slowly, "it happened to be an unfortunate victim of the fire extinguisher. I'm truly sorry, Cosima."

She takes a deep breath. "Listen, it's okay. As long as you and my cat are safe, doesn't matter. Couches and pans are replaceable."

"Yes, but still..."

Rachel sounds incredibly glum and all she wants to do is cheer her up.

"Listen, I'm going to head out, grab the food and we'll have a really nice dinner. Forget anything ever happened, alright? I'll be home in less than an hour." She purposely keeps her tone light.

"We can certainly try."

"That's the spirit. I'll see you soon."

True to her word, almost exactly 45 minutes later, Cosima is letting herself in, kicking off her shoes by the door.

"Oh, hi, bud!"

She bends to pet Mr. Pickles, burying her face in his soft fur. "I heard you had an adventure."

He allows himself to be snuggled for only a minute before he stalks off, making Cosima laugh. She sets the paper bag on the counter.

"Rachel? Food's here! I got way too much. I was literally starving and I couldn't decide, so I just got a little bit of everything. Hope you're hungry."

The air has only the slightest lingering bit of chemical smell, partly, syd realizes, due to the windows being cracked open and a candle that was lit. The place looks none the worse for wear, besides a blanket that's draped precisely over the top of the couch. She's not surprised; Rachel is scarily efficient.

Speaking of her girlfriend.

Rachel emerges, dressed in one of Cosima's Grateful Dead t-shirts, legs bare, face scrubbed of any makeup.

Her heart thuds. "Hey, you look amazing. Although," she scratches her temple, "I'm guessing you're in my shirt because your clothes were a sacrifice to putting out the fire."

Rachel brushes her lips against hers. "You would be correct. My hair still smells like smoke."

"Nah, you smell good," Cosima says, nuzzling her neck. "Come and have dinner."

"I took the liberty of opening up some white wine. I was going to light candles as well," Rachel gestures to the set up on the coffee table, "and decided it was likely not a wonderful idea."

Cosima giggles, then stops herself. "Probably not. Come on, let's dig in."

Rachel pours her a glass of wine and then a hefty portion for herself. She looks completely frazzled and Cosima reaches out to put a hand on her knee.

"Rachel? Hey, hey, I'm not mad."

She stares down at her lap. "I know. But I'm mad at myself, Cosima. I can run an entire company and make corporate mergers in my sleep. The one thing I can't do is be a normal person who cooks dinner for their girlfriend without causing destruction. The simple things elude me. Look at how long it took me to say "I love you," back. I'm afraid that one day you'll wake up and realize I'm not good at being in a relationship. You...you deserve better, Cosima. I've thought so for a long time and today only reinforced it."

Cosima is silent for a moment. Then, "you done?"

Rachel glances back up, startled. "Well...yes. Yes, I suppose so."

"Rachel," she shakes her head, "you're an idiot."

There's no mistaking the fondness in her voice.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. And I have some news for you. I'm not going anywhere. There's not anything you say or do that can push me away, either. I don't care if you burn down my house or destroy every single pan I own. You cooked tonight because you care. You wanted to do something nice for me because you love me and that's all there is to it. So, you make mistakes sometimes. Big deal. That's the exact opposite of being subhuman. I'd argue that's the most human thing you could do."

"Cosima, I'm not---"

"Yes, you are. You're enough for me," she replies softly, her hand going to Rachel's jawline. "I love you, Rachel. And you're stuck with me. That's that, okay?"

Rachel closes her eyes against Cosima's touch. "Okay."

"Good. Now that that's settled, we eat. And drink," she gestures to the wine glass in front of her girlfriend. "You need it. You've had a rough day. Way worse than mine."

"That," Rachel lifts her glass, "I cannot argue."

Cosima picks up her own wine. "To not standing in rubble right now. Could've been worse."

For the first time since Cosima walked in the door, Rachel manages to crack a smile.

"To Mr. Pickles, resilient creature that he is. And," her face softens, "to us."

✭ sharing headphones and they keep looking at you during the best part of the song. you don’t even know what the song means to them but suddenly it means everything to you.

Propunk

"Your room is an abomination," Rachel crosses her arms over her chest. "I offered to help you clean it, at least ten times this week."

Sarah laughs, tugging her best friend from her spot in the doorframe and sending them both tumbling onto the bed.

"You sound just like Mrs. S," she kicks off her shoes. "My room has morally offended you, has it? And yet, you're still coming over here. Daily."

Rachel ignores her, plucking an errant dirty sock out of her sightline. "Well, I don't blame her for harping on you about it, Sarah. How you can live like this is beyond me."

"Oh, well...if I'm so disgusting, you're free to go," Sarah sweeps her hands out grandly. "I'll just tell S and Fe you're not staying for dinner tonight. Even though, she's making pot roast, your favorite."

Rachel sighs deeply. "You know for a fact, Sarah Manning, I'd rather eat glass than go home to my mother. And I wouldn't dare disappoint yours. You're using both facts against me and I won't have it."

"I think you will have it," she reaches out to tickle just under the ladder of Rachel's ribs. "I think you'll have it and like it."

She shivers under Sarah's touch, nudging just a tiny bit closer. "Mmm, so I'd have you believe."

The banter isn't new, but the flirting is. The upcharged closeness, the buzzing sensation that starts up, deep in her belly, whenever Sarah touches her. They don't talk about it, not in so many words.

Doesn't mean it's any less real.

Sarah's the only friend she's got, since they were freshmen. She's the reason why other kids at school leave Rachel alone; Sarah used to beat them up for picking on her, now it just takes a look for them to immediately back off. She hadn't asked for a protector, but she'd ended up with one anyway, for better or worse.

"You're so silly."

Sarah's voice sits low as her fingertips brush the exposed flesh where Rachel's shirt rises up. Her thumb strokes the same patch of skin, over and over until Rachel is dizzy. She doesn't dare move, afraid Sarah will stop.

There's been so many moments like this over the last couple of months that Rachel's almost convinced herself she's imagining them. Gentle explorations, instances where she's held her breath because it feels so incredible to be touched and to touch Sarah that she can hardly stand it.

"Rach," she says dreamily, "listen to something with me, yeah?"

"Listen to what?"

Rachel prides herself on being intelligent; she's expected to graduate at the top of their class. Only her best friend can turn her very capable brain into useless goo. It's rather annoying.

"A Sunday sermon, you goose," she chucks her under the chin. "A song, what else."

She sits, only to disappear under the bed, hair dangling like over like Rapunzel in her tower.

"Here they are!"

Triumphantly, Sarah emerges with a pair of airbuds and she shoves one at Rachel. "Go on, now, they're not contaminated."

"Being that they were underneath your bed, I'm not so certain."

"C'mon, Rach," she pouts and Rachel has to look away and bite her bottom lip to keep from smiling.

"Fine. Against my better judgement."

Rachel puts the right one in her ear and Sarah does the same with the left, pushing herself to sit against the wall so that they're shoulder to shoulder before she hits play on her phone.

It's a song Rachel doesn't recognize. It's not Sarah's usual style, either. Her friend prefers punk, goth, aggressive heavy metal, or as Rachel likes to put it, "drums and synth loud enough to make one's ears bleed.'

This is softer. Intense, but not in an assaulting way. Rachel finds herself listening closely.

I'm not afraid of anything at all

Not dying in a fire, not being broke again

I'm not afraid of living on a fault line

'Cause nothing ever shakes me

nothing makes me cry

Not a plane going down

In the ocean, I'm drowning

As the song plays, their gazes lock and Sarah's eyes are clear, hazel pools. They don't leave Rachel's.

Watch the world from the sidelines

Had nothing to prove

'Til you came into my life

Gave me something to lose

Now I know what it feels like

To wanna go outside

Like the shape of my outline

Sarah's gaze is steady, unrelenting and Rachel doesn't understand any of this; why Sarah's playing her this song, why she hasn't stopped looking at her once, why her own heart is suddenly pounding like a battalion.

I'm not afraid of going back to school

I gave it up the first time, but I'll try again

I'm not afraid of getting older

Not of being alone

Used to fetishize myself

now I'm talking to my house plants

In a room full of people

Watching the world from the sidelines

Had nothing to prove

Til' you came into my life

Slowly, carefully, Sarah reaches for her hand, tracing small circles on Rachel's open palm, eyes clear, hazel pools. She can't move, can't grab a full breath, can't look away, either.

Now I know what it feels like

To wanna go outside

Like the shape of my outline

And I used to think

I could hear the ocean in a seashell

What a childish thing!

The last notes fade and Rachel's a bit sweaty and disoriented but she thinks she's never heard a more beautiful song in her life. And then, like clockwork, she begins to second guess herself.

Maybe Sarah's trying to tell her she's in love with someone, so this odd flirtation business will have to end.

The way she was looking at you, though, a voice within her reasons. The way she was touching you.

Sarah removes her airbud and gently removes Rachel's, too, turning to her, completely unapologetically.

Rachel loves that about her. She doesn't give a fuck whereas she only pretends she doesn't. Sarah is brave where she's cowardly, bold, where she closes herself off.

Closes herself off to everyone except Sarah.

"Rach."

Sarah lifts her hand to intertwine their fingers, her thumb sliding over Rachel's knuckles. It takes her a moment to speak and staringly when she does, her words are a little shaky.

"What are we doing, eh. All of this...I didn't know how to---guess I was afraid you didn't ---oh, shite. I don't bloody know how to..."

"Sarah. Look at me."

It's her turn now.

"You did. You just told me. You don't have to be afraid."

Sarah exhales, "No?"

"No," she shakes her head. "I find it incredibly charming that you are, but it's highly unnecessary. And we don't have to dance around it anymore."

She's no good at sweeping declarations or expressing emotions in general, but she's going to try.

"I think I've loved you from the first moment I met you. When you gave that boy a black eye for pulling my hair four years ago. I've never seen someone so brave. And all I've done was fall more in love since. You, and your untidy room and your awful singing voice and your impatience and---"

"God, Rach," she laughs, wiping her eyes, "thought you were telling me to piss off, the way you were going on."

"Wait. I wasn't finished. I've fallen in love with your kindness and your loyalty. You're the best person I know, Sarah."

Her pulse is racing and she feels like she's about to cry, but Sarah is grinning like a fool.

"I love you, too, you insufferable girl."

Rachel wraps her arms around her, bringing them both to lie down, face to face, knee to knee.

"My plan," she says softly, her hands running over Sarah's hair, "is to kiss you until neither of us can breathe. Or until Mrs. S calls us for dinner. Is that something you'd want?"

Sarah's grin hasn't left her face, wide and toothy and brilliant.

"That," she kisses Rachel's forehead, her cheek and finally her lips,"is just about the only thing that I want."

"We should probably start acting responsible."

Cosima/Beth

"Beth, get in here! We're going to do it now."

"Now, as at this exact minute, or..."

"Yes!" Cosima pokes her head out the bathroom door. "Come in! Don't you wanna know?"

"Of course I do, babe. Give me a sec, alright?"

Only she can't move. She's frozen to her spot on the sofa, twisting her wedding ring in manic circles. Getting up and going into the bathroom could potentially change everything. And she thought she was ready, she truly did. It was something in the works for months and what they'd discussed, planning out every detail.

There was no real explanation as to why her stomach was in knots and her throat suddenly sandpaper whenever she swallowed. This was what they wanted.

So, why did the mere thought of seeing two pink lines suddenly feel like going to meet the executioner?

"Beth!" Cosima calls again. "C'mon, dude. My bladder is going to burst here."

"Sorry, sorry. I was kind of lost in my own thoughts for a second there. I'm coming."

She squeezes her eyes shut tightly, gathering up the courage to stand and meet her wife who was no doubt growing increasingly tired of her shit.

Cosima is on the edge of the tub when she enters, nervously twisting the end of a dread and chewing a corner of her lower lip to hell; two telltale signs of anxiety.

"Hey, hey, you're good. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Beth takes both hands in hers. "Cos, listen. We both know this is the first try, right? There's a good chance this might not take. And that's okay. We try again. Or we decide to go a different way."

Cosima stares at her. "I missed my period this month, Beth. My boobs are killing me. I threw up five times already between yesterday and today. I ate an entire package of Sour Patch Kids for breakfast this morning. If I'm not pregnant, I'm crazy. It's gotta be positive."

"Sweetie, I just don't want you disappointed is all."

She's trying to calm herself down, too, that the possibility is just hanging in the air in front of them, making it hard to gain a full breath. Cosima knows her body. There's a small chance of a negative, though, and Beth clings to it. She can prepare more later, if she can bide her time. It's all she needs.

A negative test and she can comfort her wife. Reassure her that these things take time and then she'll make her a smoothie, take her out to dinner later. Everything will be fine.

"One way to find out," Cosima breaks the cycle of thoughts flying around her brain. "Pee on a stick and let it decide the rest of our lives."

Beth has more or less convinced herself this wasn't their time, that everything is too off and the notion has made her calmer, more in control of the situation.

"Everything will be fine, babe. Let's just see what we're dealing with, alright?"

Cosima, typically so cool and unbothered, is shaking like a leaf and Beth kisses her forehead. "Here, sit. I'll grab it."

It takes two minutes to get the operational part done and then they have to wait for five minutes.

"This is fucking torture," Cosima groans, resting her head on Beth's shoulder. "Might as well be five years."

"Patience isn't your finest attribute," Beth teases, earning herself a light elbow to the ribs. "But it's part of who you are and I did make a vow to love all of you, about two years ago, in front of our families and all of our friends, so..."

"You sure fucking did. And I love you for it." She kisses Beth gently and then, the phone timer chimes, making them both jump.

"Shit," Cosima sighs, "okay, guess it's now or never. Should I look or---"

Her wife's face is pale so quickly, she rises, extending a hand to help her up. "We can do it together."

Hand in hand, they walk to the vanity where the test sits on a piece of toilet paper. A little piece of plastic that could change everything and suddenly, the terror comes back full force.

"You okay? You're breathing really hard."

Beth shakes her head. "I'm fine. This is just ---it's big."

"It is. But we're in it together. Whatever it says. We got this." She inhales, shutting her eyes. "Okay, on the count of three. One, two...three."

Cosima lifts up the end and immediately, Beth sees it.

Two pink lines. Clear as day.

The floor is swimmy beneath her and for a second, she's afraid she's going to vomit.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God!!" Cosima clings to her, "Beth! Holy shit. We're pregnant! We fucking did it!"

She's practically jumping, her excitement off the charts, crying and shocked and crazy emotional.

And Beth can only stand there silently, the wind knocked out of her. Staring at that fucking test as if it's an atomic bomb.

A baby. They're going to have a real, human being to look after. That will depend on them, for everything.

That she can fuck up. Just like her own parents did to her.

She can't breathe. She can't breathe and the walls are closing in and it's too real.

"Beth, say something. What is it? Come on, you're scaring me, baby. What's wrong?"

Cosima looks panicked and she hates that it's because of her and she knows she's being a total asshole.

But she can't move. She can't speak. She can't comfort her wife or reassure her.

The only thing she's able to do is run.

Tug on some sneakers and burst out of their house and down the driveway and out onto the streets of their neighborhood, lungs burning, heaving, running until she can't anymore, until she's run all the way to Bailey Downs and to Alison and collapsed in a sobbing heap on her lawn.

"Aunt Beth?"

She lifts her head from her arms to see Oscar and Gemma standing over her, slightly alarmed but mostly curious that their mother's best friend is having a complete mental breakdown on their grass.

"I'll go get Mom," Gemma volunteers, running into the house.

"Are you okay, Aunt Beth?" Oscar asks, crouching down to her level. "Because you don't look okay."

"Aunt Beth is fine," she hears Alison answer briskly. "She's just tired from running. I'm going to help her into the house. Oscar, you can get her a bottle of water from the refrigerator in the basement, alright? There should be a brand new case. Gemma, help me help her up, alright?"

They manage to scrape her off the lawn and get her inside while Alison sends both kids outside to play.

"Now," she crosses her arms in front of her chest, peering into the backyard to assure her children aren't close by. "Are you going to tell me why you ran for just short of an hour to my house and nearly expired on my freshly cut lawn or am I going to have to guess?"

Beth takes a small sip of water, slumping in the hard backed kitchen chair. "Cos is pregnant."

"That's good news, though!" Alison claps her hands together. "I knew you guys had been trying. So quickly, too! That's wonderful."

She gets a good look at Beth's expression, coming to sit across from her. "I'm guessing it's not such good news for you, is it ? Talk to me."

"There's not much to talk about, really. We took a test this morning, it was positive and I freaked out, Allie. Ran all the way here without trying."

"I don't understand. This is something you both wanted."

"That's the thing. It is. We made plans and we had everything figured out. But the more real it got...I don't know, Al. I lost it."

"Ah," Alison nods in understanding. "You're afraid."

She scoffs at the idea. "Afraid of what?"

"I know you, Beth. You're afraid because you had an unideal upbringing, you won't be a good mother. I can see it on your face, clear as day."

She swallows hard, nods. "Yeah, I mean, can you blame me? I'm so quick to anger. I'm impulsive. I make stupid decisions. The fucking dumbest. Look at today. Prime example. My wife is pregnant and instead of talking and telling her my fears, I take off. I didn't even bring my phone so she's probably worried sick. That's what I do, Alison. I fuck up and I hurt people. And I won't do that to an innocent baby. We didn't think this through. I'll mess up. Not a matter of if, but when."

Angrily, Beth swipes at fresh tears and Alison reaches out to place a hand on hers, voice gentle.

"That's only the fear talking. I know that and deep down, so do you. You're so much more than your flaws, Beth. You're kind and loyal. Funny. Great with kids. Donnie and I never would've made you the children's godmother if we thought for a second you were who you claim to be. They adore you and so will any child you bring into this world. And you've got the most wonderful partner. Do you think a woman like Cosima would've chosen a loser to marry, let alone start a family with? Because I don't. She picked you, Beth."

"You're saying all that because you love me."

"No, I'm saying all of that because it's the absolute truth. Get it through that impossibly thick head of yours. You're going to be an amazing mother. And I can tell you exactly why."

She wipes her nose on her sleeve. "I'll bite."

"I figured you would," Alison smiles. "The reason why I know, zero doubt in mind, that you'll be an incredible mother is because you want to do better than your parents. You've seen firsthand what mistakes they've made with you and you could never do that. You'll be everything they weren't, Beth. I promise you."

"But what if I mess up? What if I do the wrong thing? Cosima won't be around constantly to fix it."

She's still panicked and Alison is steady, soothing.

"Of course you'll mess up! I do, to this day. But you'll apologize and you'll fix it. That's what matters. No one is perfect. It isn't about being perfect, though. It's about loving them. That's it."

Alison's cell rings, breaking the moment. "Speaking of your lovely wife. Should I answer?"

"Yeah. Yeah, please do. I've worried her to death, I'm sure."

"Hey, Cos. Yes, she's here. She was having a little bit of a hard time, but I think we're good now. Do you want to talk to her?"

Alison pauses. "When she gets home? Okay, yeah. I'll drive her back in a bit, once Donnie gets home. No problem. I'm always here, you know that. Oh, and congratulations. You're going to be an incredible mother. Alright, love you, too. Bye."

She sets the phone down, her eyes warm. "I'm glad you came. You didn't go to a bar or do something crazy. Cosima was extremely relieved you showed up here, too. See, you're making good decisions already."

"I shouldn't have left."

"We all get scared, honey. It's just human nature. Talk to your wife. Just tell her what you told me. Everything will work out."

The second Alison drops her off and she walks in the door, Cosima is hugging her.

"It's okay to hate me. Go ahead, smack me. I totally deserve it."

"I'm not going to hit you," Cosima says wearily as they sit on the sofa. "I'm not angry, Beth. I'm confused. You ran out and there's clearly a reason. I'm just waiting for you to tell me what it is."

She takes a deep breath and slowly, painstakingly, relates everything she said to Alison and by the time she's finished, they're both in tears.

"Oh, Beth. Baby." She folds her into her arms. "I'm scared, too."

"You are?"

"Oh, my God, are you kidding? I'm terrified. I don't know the first thing about raising kids. Nada. But we'll figure it out together. We both know how to love. We aced that much. So, everything else? We'll learn as we go. But you aren't alone, Beth. You'll never be."

Beth kisses her, holding her tight. "I'm so sorry, Cos. I forgot. You've been holding my hand for five years. I don't know why I thought this would be different."

"Because you got scared. And that's okay. Next time, you've gotta talk to me, Beth," Cosima runs a hand over her hair. "Just talk to me. There's nothing we can't figure out."

"I promise, baby. Oh, God. You're pregnant. You're having a baby."

"Your baby."

Beth's hands come to rest on Cosima's stomach, her eyes filling. "Shit. We should probably start acting responsible now."

Cosima laughs, knuckles sweeping over her eyelids. "Yeah, we probably should."

Beth kisses her again, allowing her breath to even out. "We're really doing this."

"We really are. Together."

*stay the night, said so softly that it might've been a wish instead of a whisper.

Codepink for my friend @ya-ya-sestrahood

MK was lonely. So lonely, it bled off of her. There was no point in trying to pretend it was anything else than exactly what it was, so instead of sitting with it, she found things to fill the spaces.

A cat. Some house plants. Knitting. Online gaming. Classic cinema. Small pockets of brief happiness entirely designed to ignore the fact she had no one. No family. No friends.

At night, especially, the silence was painful. That's what she longed for the most, she thought. Someone to talk to as the sun went down...to discuss the day with, even if nothing eventful happened. A human being who responded and asked questions and cared about what she had to say.

MK knew it would make staring at the same walls and wearing the same sweater and eating the same dinner bearable. Maybe infuse her quiet life with something more.

One day, she had had enough sitting around. Nothing was fulfilling the ache; not movies or games or puttering around the apartment with the cat. The last thing she wanted to do was leave, but she had no other choice.

The bookstore was practically empty, only one or two people milling around, quietly scanning shelves.

It was perfect. Not overwhelming or crowded and she was out of the house. She was actually out.

She quickly found a book and a little corner to read, curling her legs up underneath her in the olive green, worn armchair. It didn't take long for her to get lost in another world, one filled with dragons and a knight and---

"Um, hello? Hi. Oh, sorry, did I like, scare you?"

MJ jerked her head up to see a blonde woman standing in front of her. She was amazingly overdressed and coiffed to perfection and MK's first thought was to automatically assume she was lost.

Guiltily, she pushed any kind of presumptions aside to meekly acknowledge her.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually," the woman tossed her hair over shoulder. She leaned in conspiratorially, voice a mock whisper.

"My ex-boyfriend was following me. Really great guy," she rolled her eyes. "Hey, want some gum?"

Before MK could respond, she was already taking a stick out of her purse and shoving it towards her, popping an unwrapped piece in her own mouth.

"Anyway," she sighed dramatically in between chews, "he like, followed me from my apartment, right? This morning. Then I managed to lose him and then I saw this place. It's the last place he'd think I'd be, right?" She laughed, wrinkling her nose. "Oh my God, it smells so musty in here. Like old books or something."

MK stared at her. "It's a bookstore."

"Oh my God, really? How crazy is that?"

She took a minute to process this information. To wrap her head around this woman.

"What can I do to help?" She asked slowly. "Are you in any danger? Should I call the police?"

The blonde laughed, waving her hand in the air. "God, no! Eddie's totally nuts but he's not dangerous. I just want him to leave me alone. Like, if he happens to come in here, you never saw me. Can you just tell him? I'm gonna stay a few more minutes."

"Sure," MK shrugged. "Wait, what's your name? In case he asks."

"Krystal," she stuck out her hand and MK shook it. "Nice to meet you. Under like, insane circumstances, right? I didn't even know bookstores still existed."

"Um, yes. They do. Uh, I'm MK."

"MK," Krystal mused, tapping manicured fingers against her chin. "Is that like, short for anything, or..."

"No. I mean, not really. I don't use my real name. Ever."

"Ever?"

MK shook her head. "Not since I was a little kid. Too many bad memories associated with it."

Krystal studied her, eyes sharp, in a way that made her squirm, as if she could see through her.

"Okay, like... don't think I'm crazy or anything, but my friends say it all the time. That I can totally read people. It's kind of a gift I have. And right now, it's telling me you need a friend, MK. You're the quiet type, but kind of...lonely."

Suddenly, she was hot, instantly flushed at Krystal's insane intuition. Either her desperation was visibly palpable or the woman in front of her was some kind of witch.

Probably both.

"Do you wanna get out of here?"

Krystal doesn't seem bothered by her inability to speak and for that, she is innately grateful.

"What about Eddie?" MK managed to squeak out. "What if he's still following you?"

"Eddie's not very smart. He probably gave up once he lost me . It's totally fine."

She gathered up her purse, sliding her sunglasses down. "Let's go get a coffee or whatever. My treat."

MK hesitated. This woman was a total stranger, she could be in a very dangerous situation. There were a hundred reasons why going somewhere with someone she just met was crazy.

"Okay," she heard herself agree. "That sounds nice, actually."

From that day, in a Starbucks, of all places, the most unlikely of friendships was born. While MK didn't exactly bear her soul over Earl Grey, she learned Krystal was kind and funny (even if unintentionally) and loyal. She learned the other woman was a manicurist and she favored 80s hair bands and she was a black belt in karate.

What was more, she liked MK's company . She wanted to spend time with her, invited her places, understood why she wasn't always able to say yes and hung out with her when she wasn't. She filled the silence when MK got quiet and didn't know quite what to say.

Not in a million years did MK ever imagine someone as charismatic and charming as Krystal could actively want her company, but there they were.

One night, as they were eating dinner at MK's place, homemade pizza, Krystal stopped mid chew, to regard her curiously.

"So, it's been a few months. You know everything about me. Like everything. And I know absolutely nothing about you. Which is fine, like...I know it's really none of my beeswax, but friends tell each other stuff, right? Do you...like not trust me?"

A pit formed in MK's stomach. "That's not it, Krystal. It's complicated."

"I don't even know your real name."

There was tinge of sadness in her normally peppy, confident tone and it hits her like a brick.

"I'm afraid."

Finally, out in the open. The fear that had been on her mind and in her heart since the day they met.

"Oh, hon," her expression immediately softened. Her hand landed on MK's kneecap. "What are you afraid of?"

"I've...I've never talked about my past. I was an orphan, Krystal. Unwanted. And since then I have basically been alone. No friends and no family. You're the first real friend I've ever had. I can't...I would never forgive myself if I mess this up."

"Hey, don't you do that. You're not going to mess anything up. I'm not going anywhere and nothing you could tell me would make me, okay?"

"I'm scared one day you'll figure out it isn't worth it." Her voice was small. "That I'm not worth it. You're so cool and beautiful and---"

"Wait, hold up. You think I'm beautiful?"

Krystal was suddenly a deep shade of pink, but she sounded absolutely flattered and to hell with it, MK thought, nodding. "Yes, I do. And I'll never understand the stupid men that take you out on dates and treat you like some commodity. You should be treated like a queen."

She knew she had said way too much and if Krystal wasn't already on the verge of leaving, she sure would now.

"MK," her name was musical in Krystal's mouth, almost pretty. No one had ever said her name like that. "Are you ---"

She glanced down at her feet. "I don't know. I've never felt that way before. Only about you."

"Sweetie," she was so tender, MK had the courage to look up. "Come here."

She paused, a deer in headlights. "I haven't been held since I was a tiny baby. I don't know how to---"

"You don't have to know," Krystal replied gently. "Just come here."

She opened her arms and MK slowly, carefully went into them. It was odd, at first, not knowing quite where to place her head or to put her arms and she imagined she was stiff and awkward but Krystal was patient, rubbing small circles on her back, humming soothingly.

After a while, she felt herself relax, vaguely sleepy and safe. Safer than she had ever felt.

"I want to tell you everything," she said softly into Krystal's shoulder. The perfume sat in her nose. "And I will..."

"I know. When you feel like you can. I know, sweetie." Krystal's lips brushed the top of her head and the motion made MK sigh. "Was that okay?"

"It's all okay."

"I totally wanna kiss you right now. I just don't wanna like...take advantage of the situation or anything."

MK lifted her head, eyes wide. "You want to kiss me?"

Krystal nodded, breathless. "Like, so bad."

"I might not be good at it."

"I don't care."

In all the old movies, MK watched, when the two protagonists finally came together, music would swell and violins would play. She wasn't naive enough to believe her first kiss would have all the same bells and whistles, if it ever did happen, but it would've been nice, all the same.

It was better. Krystal, she was better, because it was her. Her lips were soft, her hair, soft as MK's fingers ran through it and the fuzzy thought infiltrating her brain was how had she lived so long without kissing Krystal. How had she lived so long without Krystal, period.

"Wow," Krystal exhaled when they pulled away. "Are you sure you've never done that before?"

MK giggled. "Never."

"You could've fooled me."

Krystal took her into her side, holding her close. "I mean it, okay? I'm not going anywhere. And you can take your time telling me. I'm here."

The thing about living in fear meant it ran deep, lived in your bones and MK understood it probably always would.

But similar to loneliness, she knew she could find ways to combat it. Concentrating on Krystal. Her voice, her scent, her touch. She was here, now.

"Stay the night," she hears herself whisper. Soft, uncertain. Out there, anyway and she wasn't taking it back.

Krystal blinked, once and then again before a radiant smile crossed her face. "Are you sure? We don't have to --"

"I want to. You make me brave."

Krystal leaned in to kiss her again, so sweetly MK wanted to cry.

Later, when they were curled into each other, Krystal's lithe arms around her torso, she realized something had broken in her. Broken her and repaired her in rapid succession and she was brand new.

Wanted. For the very first time, wanted, no strings, no pretense.

"Veera," she said into the dark, heart exploding.

"What, honey? Veera?"

She laughed at Krystal's sleepy confusion, placing a kiss on her bare shoulder. "That's my real name."

"Veera," Krystal tried the name out for size. "I actually love it. It suits you way more than MK."

"Do you think?"

"Yeah, it's beautiful. Just like you."

And there it was again, that break, that fullness, only now, as Krystal kissed her, could she identify it.

Hope.

Prompt Day #2

Cosima/Alison

"The key is," Cosima instructs ,"to kind of flick your wrist a little at the ends. Just...yeah, there you go! That's good, Alison. Looks great."

Alison studies her reflection in the vanity mirror, her mouth narrowing critically. "I don't know... it's not very natural."

Cosima swings her legs from her position on the dressing room table. "That's because you aren't used to doing eyeliner like that. Trust me, though. It came out perfect."

She frowns. "It's imperative this makeup is spot on, Cosima. The role depends on it. If it's not believable, then I won't be believable up there. And if I'm not believable, well," she sighs. "I'm afraid there's no point."

Cosima chokes down the urge to laugh. "Hey, hey, listen. I understand what you're trying to say, but I promise you...even if the makeup doesn't come out exactly the way you want it to, you're still gonna kick ass up there, Allie. I've seen you in rehearsal. You're a force."

"Really?" She turns toward the other woman, brightening. "You think so? You're not just saying that because you're my friend?"

Cosima shakes her head. "No way. You're amazing. They cast you as the lead for a reason."

"Well... thank you. I think you may be slightly biased, but I'll allow it," Alison smiles. "As for my eyeliner application abilities, I'm afraid they leave something to be desired."

There's an undertone of hopeful expectation and Cosima knows exactly what she's going to ask before the words leave her mouth.

"Yes, I'll do your makeup for you."

"Oh, Cosima. You're too kind!"

At that, she doesn't bother to hide her chuckle. "We can't have some smudged eyeliner sabotage such a brilliant performance, now can we? Wouldn't be fair."

"That's very reasonable."

"Alright, alright," Cosima instructs, "turn towards me."

Alison obeys, tipping her chin so that Cosima can slip a steady hand underneath, going about her work methodically.

"You know," she says thoughtfully, following a few minutes of rare silence, "it's nice you've come to the past few rehearsals. I know you must have better things to do."

"Not really," Cosima shrugs. "And since I was your ride and all, I figured I'd just stick around. Better than waiting in the car and being bored."

"Still," Alison presses, "you didn't have to. Just like you don't have to be here with me now. The show isn't for two hours."

There's something in her tone that's become vaguely familiar over the last month or so. Cosima hasn't been able to put her finger on it. All that's registering is that her friend is acting kind of...weird. Even for her.

"Uh, yeah? Again, nothing better to do. Now quit moving or we're gonna have to start all over again."

"Fine."

Cosima works quietly and efficiently, stopping to check her work. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have perfect skin? Like, it's kind of insane."

Alison flushes. "Not typically, no. I'll gladly accept the compliment."

As she continues, the thought occurs about how good Alison smells, too. Clean and floral. Did she always smell that good? Or had she just not noticed?

The idea makes her slightly dizzy and she pulls away.

"Cosima? Is everything alright?"

She's dazed, so the alarm in Alison's voice doesn't register immediately. "Huh?"

"You stopped what you were doing and you had this look on your face..."

"Oh! No, no, I'm fine. Everything is great."

She's aware her voice has gone up about five octaves and Alison isn't buying it, but she nods.

"Okay. As long as everything is alright."

"Totally!" She manages to smile tightly. "Actually, I'm all done. Wanna see?"

"Yes!" Alison claps her hands together. "I'm so excited!"

She turns back to the mirror, studying her reflection.

"Cosima! Oh my goodness. I'm unrecognizable! You're a wonder."

Cosima shakes her head. "It was nothing."

"Nothing? It's not nothing! You're too modest. I'm transformed. I look---"

"Beautiful," she supplies quietly. "You look beautiful."

For a moment, neither of them say anything.

"Yes," Alison looks at her, expression unreadable. "And it's all thanks to you."

Suddenly, a light switch goes off. A flare, more like it. And it makes Cosima swallow hard, past the giant lump that suddenly lodged itself in her throat.

"No," she hears herself say. "It's because you're beautiful, Ali. More than that...you're probably the most stunning creature I've ever seen in my entire life. With makeup, without makeup. First thing in the morning, last thing at night. You take everyone's breath away. But especially mine."

Alison is speechless.

If she hadn't just made a fool out of herself and her cheeks weren't on fire, she might've laughed.

Still nothing.

"Um, I'll see you out there. When the show starts. Maybe. I'll just---" Cosima stands to leave, grabbing her purse, but Alison grabs her elbow.

"Wait. Cos."

It takes her a minute to get the thought out and Cosima doesn't blame her.

"Well. Um. What you---" She's red faced, obviously flustered. "That wasn't a friendly thing to say."

"Nope. It wasn't."

"Why did you say it, then? Is it some kind of joke?"

Alison sounds upset and confused as hell, Cosima sits back on the table, pushing her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose.

"Alison, what are you talking about?"

"You, teasing me like that, when you know how I feel!" She's on the verge of tears. "It's downright mean."

"Ali, no, no. I never meant---I didn't know."

Alison takes a deep breath. "You didn't?"

"No," she replies gently. "I had no idea. I swear to you."

"Oh." Alison takes this information in. "I thought I was extremely obvious and you just didn't feel the same way."

"You probably were being really obvious but I'm an idiot."

"If there's one thing you are, Cos," she smiles, "an idiot isn't one of them."

"So," she inhales shakily, "what do we do about it?"

"I---I don't know."

"I think there's something...I feel something," Cosima admits. "There's something here worth exploring. Do you think so?"

"I do," Alison nods, locking eyes with her. "We can take it slow, Cosima. As slow as you want. I can wait."

"That's something I thought I'd never hear come out of your mouth," Cosima teases.

"Oh, shut up."

"Make me."

Never one to back down from a dare, Alison rises, goes to where Cosima is perched on an edge.

Both hands on both knees, she leans in and gently brushes her mouth against Cosima's.

Her mouth is soft, softer than she ever figured and she has the primal instinct to deepen it, wants to, but they're taking things slow so a kiss is it.

For now.

"Break a leg," is all she can say. So stupid.

Alison smiles, anyway, her fingertips going to her mouth.