OB Frankenfics

"People, man." She muttered, ambling to the next register in line, this one occupied by a short Latina. Cosima perked up, encouraged by the cashier's open, mischievous expression. She exhaled in relief, hefting her basket. Her ice cream was not going to stay frozen forever.

"Ay, no," dark-eyed cashier raised her hands at Cosima, palms out, then pointed to the next cashier.

"But," Cosima protested, pointing at the light above the register.

"Nem." The cashier managed an apologetic shrug, the mane of her dark hair cascading across her shoulders, but still shook her head in denial.

"I don't-"

"Nyet." The cashier produced a tiny dog, plopped it on the scanner and started brushing it.

"You're seriousl-"

"Not even a finger, sorry. Next register's open, though. Ciao!"

"Unbelievable!" Cosima stalked away, feeling her Purple Haze mellow evaporate harshly. It wasn't like that song at all - she couldn't check out any time she wanted.

She crossed over to the next in the interminable line of registers, one of the two remaining with 'in service' lights on. A disbelieving chuckle escaped involuntarily when she faced the cashier sitting behind it, a short-haired woman with glasses.

"You have.. a typewriter out. Like, a genuine, honest to god typewriter, just," she faltered, at a loss, "... and you're typing away. Seriously?"

The woman looked at her blankly, fingers hovering over the keys, a sheath of paper hanging over the typewriter carriage.

"Right. Should I just-," Cosima jerked her thumb in the direction of the next register. "Yeah, yeah, got it. Golden. Perfect."

This was a joke of some kind, one of those old-timey TV shows no one watches any more, with unsuspecting dopes challenged by a ridiculous setup, unknowingly followed by a camera. Except she was on the rag, slowly bleeding through her last tampon, and willing to kill for the first bite of her rapidly melting Chunky Monkey.

"I just wanna find a damn line I can stand in, like a good citizen, pay for my tampons and-"

If it were a movie, the surrounding lights would dim, leaving a sole beam trained on the apparition before her, and a chorus of angels would vocalize their awe as they beheld the glory, the beauty that stood at the checkout line #5.

Her blonde hair was up in a messy bun, a few escaped tendrils framing a smiling, lovely face. She was focused on the customer at her register, arms gracefully moving and scanning the items on the conveyor belt as she kept up friendly banter. Cosima swallowed, then stepped up to the line, silently sending a thank you to all the other lazy, unhelpful, rude cashiers that sent her in this direction.

Soon - the beautiful blonde stranger, in start contrast to her deadbeat co-workers, was efficient - it was nearly Cosima's turn, and she stepped up to the register belt, emptying her basket. This close, she could see the crinkles at the corners of the cashier's eyes as she smiled, the beauty mark just below her lower lip, could hear the clear, lovely tone of her laughter. "Delphine," she tried the name written on the name tag quietly to herself, "Delphine."

The belt moved silently, sliding her groceries closer to the cashier, and Cosima followed in lockstep, eyes never leaving the cashier's face.

Delphine.

Then the last item of the customer in front of her was bagged, and the cashier - Delphine - took a languorous stretch, arms raised, before sitting back down on the stool behind the register and smiling at Cosima.

"Hello. Did you find everything you needed tonight?"

Her eyes were caramel and warm, and her lips glistened slightly under the harsh fluorescent lighting, and Cosima found herself dazedly nodding in agreement. "Yeah. Totally."

Delphine glanced at the items laid out at the register, and as a blonde eyebrow went up at the selection, Cosima paled with belated realization.

"You, uhm, having a rough night?" The smile was sympathetic rather than pitying, as the first box of her OB Ultra Absorbency tampons beeped at the scanner and went into a shopping bag.

Cosima opened her mouth, then closed it after a long moment of silence. She cleared her throat as another box of tampons went into the bag and tried again.

"Um, yeah, yeah." Could it get worse? She was about to find out. "I, um, got mowed down by Aunt Flo and realized I was out of tampons, got ignored by every single cashier in here, my ice cream is melting, and now I have a gorgeous woman scanning my unmentionables. Pretty high on the embarrassment scale, I'd say."

Delphine paused, holding aloft a sweating pint of Ben&Jerry's. "Aunt Flo?"

Cosima snorted, waving her hand.

_That's what she focused on? "It's a silly expression. Means I got my period. You, um, sound.. French?"

"Ah," Delphine nodded, slowly lowering the ice cream, unscanned, into her bag. "I am."

Before Cosima could point out her mistake, the blonde leaned in slightly across the counter, lowering her voice in confidentiality. "I, ah, also have something embarrassing to share."

Cosima unconsciously leaned in response, mesmerized. Delphine bit her lower lip in a most distracting manner, eyes lowered, seemingly hesitant to continue. Cosima waited a beat, two, eyes trained on soft lips then blurted out in a strangled whisper. "What is it?"

Those eyes - hazel, she thought hazily - were on her again, and then Delphine took a deep breath. "Ah... well, the truth is, I told my coworkers not to help you, so you could come to this register."

Cosima stared at her blankly. She blinked. All the words she'd just heard made sense individually, but the actual sentence was indecipherable.

Delphine continued quietly, her eyes back on the counter between them. "I, um, wanted a chance to meet you. I'd seen you here a few times before, but neve-"

"Uh, no." Cosima shook her head adamantly, interrupting her. "Nnnno, you couldn't have. Cause, then I would have seen you, and I'd definitely remember that so, no."

This brought a small smile and something that looked like relief to Delphine's face. "I am not usually behind the register. I'm, um, a floor manager and so I mainly just stay upstairs and pitch in as needed." She smiled again. "And you're always on your phone when you're here, which is remarkable given that you seem to do your shopping only between midnight and three."

Cosima cocked her head to the side, her brain finally processing received information. "You wanted to meet me?"

Delphine took in another deep breath then nodded vigorously. "Yes. I overheard you berating your lab partner once for messing up the polymer cell cultures*, and figured out you're also a biology grad."

Cosima cringed, recalling the early-morning phone drubbing she'd given Scott, around the same time in her cycle and shortly after she realized the store was out of her favorite Cheetos flavor.

"And, um, I know you like the B52s," Cosima's eyebrows shot up, "since I saw you dancing to Love Shack in the cereal aisle one night, and, um." Delphine paused delicately, "I know you're single."

Cosima groaned, hiding her face her hands at the thought of what kind of a one-sided overheard conversation gave Delphine that information. "This is so embarr-"

Her head snapped up, eyes locked on Delphine's. "Wait, so you arranged this whole thing," her arm vaguely circled the space around them, "so you could meet me?"

Delphine smiled patiently, encouragingly. "Yes. And, um, my shift ended 30 minutes ago."

Cosima leaned on one leg, cocking her hip, first tendrils of giddiness rising up through her chest. She looked around - indeed, the entire line of open registers was humming busily to the left of them, each cashier which had previously dismissed her was now engaged with a customer. The peppy Latina gave her a thumbs up when she caught her eye, and someone had even crept up and placed a 'line closed' sign on the conveyor belt behind her at some point.

"And, wait," she held up a questioning finger, "you're also a student at U.T.?"

Delphine nodded again. "Yes, working on my PhD in Parasite/Host Relationships. And, ah," she opened her arms, motioning toward her uniform, "a part-time floor manager at EHW at night."

Cosima smiled, her full, broad, Cheshire-cat smile of the evening. "And you said your shift just ended?"

Delphine smiled back, less shyly, and nodded.

Cosima grinned, euphoric. "Would you be up for--"

"Yes. Yes, I would."

And so they did.

“Lemon drop martini." The male voice spoke, setting the sugar rimmed glass in front of the redhead.

"Thank you, Henry." Swiveling slightly in her seat, Nicole sips the drink slowly. She doesn't have to thank him, doesn't even need to engage beyond giving him her order, but she grew up with a mother who enforced politeness, especially when it wasn't necessary. If it meant showing gratitude to the automated bartender with his cheesy, painted-on smile, well so be it.

"Whiskey sour, please." The brunette slides into the seat beside her, a smile on her lips.

Having been witness to so many people being disrespectful to their robotic servants, Nicole was glad for the shorter woman's company. She lets her eyes rake over the fit form, wrapped in white garments no different from her own, trimmed in silver around the cuffs and neck. Her brunette hair is pulled back in a single braid and although her skin is unnaturally pale, it's become something she's found quite attractive.

Who would think that being closer to the sun, getting a tan would be harder to come by? No doubt it was due to the UV filters that protected them from radiation.

"So… you come here often?" Nicole asks, licking a bit of crystallized sugar from her lips. She watches the brunette's eyes drop to her mouth and can't stop the smile from spreading.

"Only the past few weeks or so."

"Me too." Nicole chuckles. Five weeks. It had just been the two of them for five weeks now, alone and awake for unknown reasons on the space station Peacemaker on it's one-way trip to the planet Purgatory in the Gamma quadrant. Nicole's own military training kept her analytical mind going over the possible reasons. She would believe it were a malfunction of some sort, but the fact that she wasn't awaken alone made it that much more unbelievable.

Whatever the reason the AI on the ship decided to rouse both her and Waverly, a veterinarian of all things, it wasn't sharing that information with her.

"Thank you." Accepting the drink with a soft smile, Waverly turns toward the redhead, her legs crossing at the ankles on the stool that was a little too high for her shorter stature. "So… Mission Specialist Haught… I take it your flight checks went well."

"You would be correct Dr. Earp." A smile tugs at Nicole's lips as she takes a sip of her drink. She can feel it burning down her throat even with the hint of sour sweetness that accompanies 's another burn deep inside her that has nothing to do with the drink and more to do with the teasing smile on Waverly's lips.

Five weeks and she's noticed more about the doctor than she has about anything else on the ship. She's noticed the way the woman seems to choose spicier meals from the replicator, and the way she closes her eyes whenever she finds something she enjoys. She's noticed the way the woman has a very poor musical preference, and the way she bites her nails when she's nervous.

Nicole has noticed the way the standard regulation soap smells absolutely delicious on Waverly's skin. She's noticed how soft the doctor's lips could feel.

"Can I ask you a question?" Those soft lips quirk, revealing the devious nature of the inquiry.

"You can ask any question you like, however I reserve the right to decline to answer."

Waverly laughs softly, slipping off her stool and moving forward.

Nicole notices the way her knees part of their own volition, allowing the compact frame to occupy the space between her thighs.

"Have you ever had sex in zero gravity?"

Nicole's mouth dries seconds before the doctor presses that devious smile against her lips, the soft touch of fingertips tracing the side seams of her pants. There was that spicy softness she was missing. Well, if she was going to be stuck on a ship with just one other person, she was glad it was the strange vet with the ability to find the best ways to waste the time.

"Mmmm." Nicole pulls away. "I haven't, but it sounds a little too chaotic for me." Her fingers find the edge of Waverly's pants, sliding just inside the edge. "Besides… disengaging the gravity core to have sex sounds like one of those disaster movie plots."

"Come on. Disaster movies are great. We can have some sort of cheesy Titanic line like 'you jump, I jump' or something." Waverly presses closer again, her lips caressing the line of Nicole's jaw with feather-soft kisses.

"You know there are cameras monitoring everywhere, right?" But her hands are already tugging the shorter woman's top off.

Waverly breathes a chuckle against Nicole's throat, her fingertips finding the button closure of the redhead's pants. "The way things are going, we'll probably be dead by the time the rest of the crew wakes. And they'll be cursed with what...50 years of us defiling every surface possible?"

Nicole swallows. She doesn't want to think about dying. She doesn't want to think about Waverly dying. Even if they were forced to live another 50 years with only each other, she would never stop trying to fix whatever had gone wrong.

A hand slides down the front of Nicole's pants, robbing all worries and doubts from her mind.

"Take your shirt off."

Nicole doesn't argue, stripping off the garment along with her bra. She barely has a second before eager lips find her breasts. "Wave…"

"Mission Specialist Haught." Waverly presses her fingers closer, leaning back just slightly to look the redhead directly in the eyes. "Since you're not letting me have my fun, I'll have to take it another way, so I need you to shut the hell up and get your fine ass up on this bar."

A flutter of anticipation makes itself known as Nicole does as she's told, pressing herself backwards onto the bar, nearly slipping when Waverly tugs her pants off. "This is completely against regulations, Doctor."

"Well you can put me under arrest but… we played that game 2 days ago."

Nicole chuckles as the woman bent forward, brushing lips along the inside of her thighs. So maybe being the only two people awake wasn't such a bad idea. Arms wrap under her thighs, pulling her closer to the edge with surprising strength. She was about to protest but a hot tongue presses closer and she purses her lips, allowing just a small whimper to pass.

It doesn't take long to realize Waverly is just teasing her, her tongue darting out only to withdraw seconds later. They had a lot of time to waste, yes, but at the moment Nicole's patience was just about non-existant. A single fingertip presses into her and she groans.

Waverly stands back up to full height, watching her with a glistening smile. "Is this not enough for you?"

Nicole shook her head.

"Then tell me you want more."

Nicole's eyes narrow at the brunette who seems very entertained at the moment. She's contemplating being more defiant, but the Waverly knows exactly what she's doing and withdraws her single finger, eyebrows risen.

"Tell me."

Unable to stop herself, Nicole leans forward to capture soft lips, tasting herself on them before a hand in her chest pushes her back gently. Finally she relents. "I want more."

"One lemon-drop coming up."

The robotic voice accompanies the feeling of Waverly sliding two fingers into her depths and Nicole groans. "Fuck off, Henry." She curses as the bartender begins to mix the drink.

"I am unable to understand your command." The voice responds.

"Jimmy, disengage." Nicole sees Waverly's shoulders shaking with laughter as a tongue finds its home between her thighs again. "You… get back to work." She commands, the fingers of one hands sliding into the twists of Waverly's braid, pulling her closer.

“Non,” Delphine gave up on the door, wrapping her arm around Cosima instead. She needed to feel those lips again. “Vien ici, vien.”

Cosima met her half-way willingly, stretching up, face eagerly turned up for a kiss. Delphine moaned, getting lost in the sensation, feeling the warmth spread through her chest, warming her stomach, until it bloomed into an insistent tingle between her legs.

“Dieu, je ne peux pas--,” she broke off, cradling Cosima's flushed, beautiful face in her hands. “You are going to kill me.”

“Mmmm, yes.” Cosima grinned up at her blissfully, eyes half-lidded. “A thousand beautiful little deaths. Come.”

Delphine let herself be tugged toward her desk, a sturdy stretch of utilitarian office furniture, knees wobbly. She pulled short suddenly, remembering.

“Wait!” Two long strides and she was back at the door, pressing the lock in with a satisfying click. “I do not wish to have to hide you under my desk again.”

“Good point,” Cosima grinned, swiveling the office chair for Delphine to sit. “Now bring that ass here.”

Delphine swallowed, feeling the jolt between her thighs in response to Cosima's sultry voice, but managed to walk over with a teasing gait. She noted the lustful once over Cosima gave her before she was directed toward the chair with a jut of Cosima’s chin. She turned around, sparing a glance in her lover's direction before she lowered herself down in the seat. At the last moment she remembered to hike her skirt up, pulling it all the way around her waist. It was only ten AM and she could ill afford to have the garment wet and stained with various juices so early in the day.

“That’s.. suave, Ms. Cormier,” Cosima chortled, slotting herself neatly between Delphine’s legs, resting her hands on the armrests, and leaning down for a kiss.

“Mmm, we are about to have a quick office sex again, so functional wins over suave.”

Cosima straightened up, ignoring Delphine’s mewled protest, and gave her an amused look. “Did you just say ‘a quick office sex’”?

“Cosi-mah,” Delphine grabbed at her impatiently, trying to pull her back down, “I have a meeting in 30 -- this is not the time to be pedantic. Come!”

“You know I like it when you’re bossy,” Cosima kneeled down, rolling the chair back until it was secured against the desk. Her dreads fell loosely about her shoulders, her brightly patterned summer dress contrasting with her tanned skin, and when she pushed her glasses to the top of her head Delphine could see the beginnings of a myopic squint. She was beautiful.

Delphine tangled her finger around a dreaded lock of hair and tugged slightly, urging Cosima upwards. The smaller woman obliged, stretching across Delphine’s torso until their lips met again, the kiss slow and languorous. She ran her hands up Cosima’s back, feeling the movement of lithe muscles under her dress, pulling the smaller woman in closer.

She could feel Cosima surging into her with renewed urgency, hips grinding against her own. She leaned fully back into her chair and propped her feet against the wall at hip level in a familiar stance, Cosima caught between her thighs.

The kiss deepened, and Cosima's hungry, quiet moan filled her mouth, but her lover didn't react otherwise. Delphine cupped Cosima's face, caressing it with the pads of her thumbs, then surreptitiously placed one of her hands on top of Cosima's head and pressed down lightly.

Cosima squirmed away, incredulous. “Seriously??”

Delphine smiled sheepishly but made a point of glancing at her watch. “Chérie, the meeting's in 27 minutes. Which means we only have.. 17 minutes, if I factor in time for the bathroom and travel, so…,” she glanced toward the junction of her bare legs and raised an inquiring eyebrow.

Cosima pursed her lips, dutifully taking in the expanse of exposed skin. “I better get to work, then.”

“I agree-- ahh,” Cosima had already bent her head down, sliding her panties aside, and Delphine threw her head back when the warm mouth descended on her.

There was no prelude, no gentle nips or playful teasing, just the full, strong feel of Cosima’s tongue against her. Delphine brought a hand up to her mouth, biting into the heel of her palm. They needed to be quick, but Delphine felt, with a brief twinge of panicked disappointment, the coiling of an orgasm after only three broad strokes of Cosima’s tongue.

She pressed her feet against the wall more firmly, trying to push herself away from the insistent mouth, but her chair only creaked against the desk, keeping her in place. She could feel the buildup pull her in, one sweep of the tongue, from root to tip, another, her heart booming in her ears, and an--

Cosima’s mouth disappeared, cool air hitting her exposed flesh, and Delphine arched up with a groan. She could feel the absence of Cosima’s tongue in a physical way, her clit pulsing against the chill of the office. Her head lolled to the side, Delphine willing her eyes to open, seek out her tormentor. There was a whisper of movement, and then she was filled, fingers hilting inside of her, curling, one stroke, another, then another.

Delphine gripped the hand rests, anchoring herself against Cosima’s movements. Her hips rose in counterpoint to Cosima’s fingers, slamming down as her lover entered her, taking her in hungrily. She felt feverish, out of control, the familiar tightening in her cunt making her groan with pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, I’m going to come just watching you,” Cosima husked out, breath hot against her thigh, and Delphine felt herself tightening around her fingers. She ground down on Cosima’s hand, needing more contact, more force, more---

“Cosima--,” she didn’t know what she was going to plead for, or how, she only knew that she needed something, needed something more.

“I know, baby, I know.” Cosima murmured lovingly, breath hot against Delphine’s thigh. She strained up, giving herself to Cosima, opening up with abandon, in need of absolution. When Cosima’s mouth descended on her again, tongue hot against her chilled clit, Delphine exclaimed, arching up, beyond concern.

She worked her hips furiously against Cosima’s fingers, each downstroke met by the upsweep of Cosima’s tongue. Delphine was unravelling, only dimly aware of the rhythmic creaking of her office chair, the increasing volume of her panting exhales.

“N'arrête pas, n'arrête pas, n'arrête pas,” she grew rigid, muscles suddenly drawn taught with the strength of her release. It held a moment, the sweetest implosion, then broke her open in a series of weakening tremors. She slumped back, spent, feet landing listlessly on the floor. She felt both exhausted and rejuvenated, a soft warmth suffusing her entire body.

She could hear Cosima chuckle, but could not bring herself to open her eyes yet. She felt the fingers withdrawing, heard the sound of tissues bieng pulled out of the box on her desk, the last of her aftershocks slowly dying out.

When she finally opened her eyes she found Cosima still on her knees, glasses back on her face, her lips stripped of gloss and slightly bruised, smiling at her. “If your computer clock is correct, that only took five minutes. You practically have time for a nap before your meeting.”

Delphine huffed out a short, blissed-out chuckle. “My god, what have you done to me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand.”

“Mmmm, I’d say I’m sorry,” Cosima leaned over, laying a soft kiss on Delphine’s lips, the scent of her own sex lingering on brunette’s mouth, “but we’d both know it’d be a lie.”

“You are incorrigible. Can you--” Delphine waved her arm vaguely in the direction of the tissue box, then gingerly wiped herself with the tissues Cosima passed to her. She was afraid to inspect her skirt too closely. “We really can’t keep doing this, Cosima. It’s too risky.”

“I agree,” Cosima stood up, stretching out, and Delphine lingered on the play of muscles in her arms. “My six-month probation period is coming to a close, and I feel that getting caught shtupping the Head of Marketing could get me in trouble with HR.”

Delphine snapped her eyes to Cosima’s, chagrined. “Chérie, I had forgotten! Has it been six months already?”

Cosima smiled shyly, reaching out to tuck in a stray lock of Delphine’s hair. “Yes. Well, tomorrow, to be exact. Though -- spoiler alert -- Scott has already told me that he’s very happy with my work, and that he’s already submitted his report to HR. So,” she shrugged, “I guess I can finally stop moonlighting at the bar now.”

Delphine bent down, laying a soft kiss on Cosima’s lips. “Sounds like we have a lot to celebrate tonight, my heart. Why don’t you come over - you bring the wine, and I’ll cook?”

Cosima grinned, walking backwards toward the door. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I’d prefer we eat out.”

She expelled a shallow, shaky breath, and looked around the shiny, modern reception area of the publishing company.  Chairs were angular and uncomfortable, the coffee table seemed hewed out of a single piece of sharp glass, and the couch she currently perched on smelled of fresh hide.  Even if her semi-vegetarian leanings weren’t offended by the astounding amount of animal that went into the making of the sofa, she felt mocked by the shiny, moist imprints her palms left against it every time she touched its surface.  

She again reached for one of the magazines stacked on the table in front of her -- The Nature Conservancy, yet another in the line of previously well-respected journals saved from almost certain bankruptcy by becoming a pet interest - and a cash purchase - of a hedge-fund billionaire with philanthropic aspirations.  Back when she used to have a 9-5 office job -- at some point after her M.A. in Conservation Biology landed her a cushy job in the Corporate Social Responsibility department at Procter & Gamble, but before her nervous breakdown got her to quit and instead turn to serving overpriced coffee and beer to hipsters, she dreamed of doing real conservancy work.  She dreamed of working for this very magazine, with its hokey covers, earnest stories of nature’s wonders, and real, palpable work of conserving the nature.

And here she was, four years into her self-imposed sabbatical from the stresses and rigors of her profession, interviewing for an entry-level position with the Nature Conservancy.  She had felt ready to rejoin that world, had missed the sense of purpose and the intellectual reward of the work, and yet -- the interviewing process, as she discovered, did not miraculously become any easier.

The fact she landed an interview at all was a minor miracle given the nearly half a decade long gaping hole in her resume.  Instead of making her feel relieved, this only served to ratchet up the stakes and, by extension, her anxiety. She had shown up 15 minutes early and managed to use the extra time to work herself up into a state of acute nervousness. Vomiting was not out of the question.

“Ms. Niehaus?” The young receptionist, an overly combed white boy with an Abercrombie and Fitch outfit, looked down on her kindly. “We are ready for you - if you'll follow me?”

Cosima stood up, hands smoothing down her dress, straightening the lapels of her blazer, and nodded, following him.  The short walk ended in front of a glass-walled conference room, and then she was seated at the end of a long, gleaming table, a glass of water in front of her.  

“Ms. Cormier, the Associate Director of Marketing, will be with you shortly.”

The receptionist left with a smile, and Cosima primly placed her portfolio in front of her, opening it to a blank pad of paper.  She took a deep breath, held it for a beat, then slowly exhaled.  Her eyes flitted around the room, noting the view of the city, the bustle of the office beyond the walls of the conference room.  She inhaled again, willing her shoulders to relax, the knot in the pit of her stomach to unfurl.

The conference door opened with a soft clang, and she looked up, startled, then felt her jaw unhinge.

“D-delphine?”

And, indeed, there she was, a blonde vision vividly familiar from her bartending job - a semi-regular patron at her bar, and the woman single-handedly capable of turning Cosima, a professional flirt, into a mutely efficient drink-pourer.  Cosima stood up, heart pounding.  If there was one thing she was worse at than interviewing, it was talking to women she had a crush on.  And Delphine, the smolderingly beautiful French woman with a penchant for leaning across the bar and ordering her drinks with a flirty wink, had Cosima crushing.  Hard.

“Cosima.”  Delphine smiled, leaning slightly against the conference room door, and despite her shock, a part, a rather large part, of Cosima’s brain noted the sleek fit of the blonde’s business suit.  “So it is you -- when I saw the name on the CV I thought, even in New York, how many different Cosimas can there be?”

“I--”  Cosima faltered, arms half raised in surprise, “I-- I had no idea that it-- I thought you were--,” a French movie star, or a sexy doctor - maybe a spy.  She pressed her lips together, at a loss.  “I am.. surprised.”

This elicited a short, crystalline laugh, and Delphine strode into the room, holding her hand out.  “Well, let’s do this properly, then.  Delphine Cormier.  Enchantee.”

Cosima accepted her hand without thought, noting the warm, firm grip and the smile wrinkles in the corners of Delphine’s eyes.  She had noted those before, whenever the blonde would accept her drink with a smile, had made a mental note that they made Delphine look somehow more beautiful.

“I’m Cosima.  Eum, Niehaus, duh.  Cosima Niehaus.”  She fluttered her newly freed hand awkwardly.  “Sorry about that, I get clammy hands when I’m nervous.”

Delphine smiled, then bit her lower lip, another thing Cosima had noticed during her surreptitious observations at the bar, canting her head a bit.  “It’s okay, I, um,” she leaned in conspiratorially, “I do, too, and was wondering if you’d notice.”

Cosima blinked, nonplussed, but before she could react to this admission Delphine gestured toward the chairs.  “Why don’t we sit down?”

“Ah, yes, of course, I’m sorry.”  She sat down, immediately distracted by the flex of the blonde’s calves under the glass top of the conference table.  Sweet Jesus help me.  She rearranged her portfolio, mercifully blocking the view.  “I, uh, have an extra copy of my resume, and I just wanted again to thank you - er, your company, for giving me an opportunity to interview for the position of a marketing associate. I know I'm not very marketable these days given the lack of recent professional experience, so i am, ”she paused, winding down awkwardly, “grateful.”

Delphine placed the copy of her resume in front of her, glancing at it briefly, then leaned forward on her hands.

“I had a chance to look at your CV and was impressed by your educational background and previous work experience.” Cosima relaxed slightly, taking in the positive words.  “You are certainly a very attractive, um,  candidate for this position, given the whole,” she gestured toward the resume in front of her, “package.”

There was something about Delphine's body language, despite the positive tone, that revealed a certain hesitation, even nervousness; whitened knuckles of her steepled fingers, the lack of eye contact. During the last six months or so that Delphine had been patronizing the bar (and Cosima had been silently observing her) she had never seen the blonde act like that.

Cosima pursed her lips, fighting against the sinking feeling in her stomach. Not getting this job was one thing, seeing how it was a long shot anyway, but having to be rejected by the woman she'd been working up a nerve to ask out for half a year…  It was gearing up to be the most humiliating experience of her life.

“Why do I think I hear a 'but’ in there?” Only brevity could salvage a potential disaster in the brewing, so why not cut to the chase.

Delphine looked up in surprise, finally making eye contact, before quickly dropping her eyes back to her hands. Cosima could actually see a slight sheen of perspiration breaking out on the blonde’s forehead.

“No, no-- no but, it's just-- I wanted--,” Delphine stammered, then exhaled, looking at Cosima's almost beseechingly. “I think what I need to say is that there are two things I should say first.”

Cosima sat mutely, at a loss. When the blonde just continued looking at her, she quirked her eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Right. First, I believe there is a mid-level position in our development department that would fit your level of experience and your,” she smiled with real warmth at Cosima, “engaging personality much better than the entry-level position with Marketing.”

Cosima swallowed, feeling the lead ball of disappointment in her belly, but kept her tone even.  “So, I’m ‘overqualified,’ is that it?”

“No!” Delphine looked alarmed, empathetically shaking her head.  “I mean, yes, you are overqualified, but-- “  Her head hung down for a moment, cascades of blonde hair obscuring her face.  “Putain de merde, Scott va me tuer, c’est sûr.”

“Excuse me?”

Delphine looked up, waving her off.  Her mouth was set in a straight line and, Cosima thought, if at all possible she looked more pained than Cosima felt.

“Cosima.”  Delphine’s mouth opened, then closed.  Then it opened again, only for Delphine to clamp her teeth, rather painfully, against her lower lip.  She tried again.  “Oh-kay.  My colleague, Scott Smith, has an opening for a mid-level development associate, and I believe that position would both be more challenging and provide you with a better growth opportunity.”

“But--,” Delphine held up a hand, cutting her off, and Cosima shut her mouth.  What was even happening here?

“Beyond that, I must say that I have a.. personal interest in you not seeking a position within my department.”

“Oh.”  Cosima sank into her chair, feeling the bloom of hurt and embarrassment.  Was she called in here only to be humiliated by a woman she was attracted to?  Did Delphine not want a lowly bartender on her team?  “Why?”

Delphine hung her head again, hands raking through her hair.  “Oh my god, this was a terrible idea.”  When she looked up again, she seemed to teeter for a moment on the edge of speechlessness, but then she opened up in a torrent of words,  “I am so sorry, Cosima.  I saw your CV in my inbox, and I thought, this must be a joke, and it can’t actually be you, but then it was you, and you were qualified for the position -- well, overqualified -- and I know you would be such an asset to the organization - you are smart and funny, and excel at communication, not to mention that you have the right kind of background, but…”

Cosima shook her head in bewilderment, trying to follow the current of words.  “But?”

“But,” Delphine’s eyes fluttered toward her clasped hands, but then she resolutely trained them on Cosima’s face.  “After six months of trying to work up the courage to ask you out on a date, I could not face the possibility of becoming your boss.”  

Cosima felt her jaw fall open unglamorously for a second time in less than 30 minutes.  “Excuse me?”

Delphine’s chuckle came out a bit strangled.  “Your application for this job tipped my hand in a rather spectacular fashion.  My initial plan was just to order tequila shots from you until either you started talking to me, or I got drunk enough to pull you over the bar and kiss you, but--” she spread out her arms helplessly, “here we are.”

“You,” Cosima narrowed her eyes in an effort to understand, making a circling motion with her finger between the two of them, “called me into this interview.. to ask me out?”

Delphine answered with a vigorous nod, then canted her head in thought.  “Well, really to give you an opportunity to interview for a better position.  I think you’d do great work for the organization, and you and Scott would get along really well.  His email should be in your inbox already.”

“I--,”  Cosima slumped back in her chair, vaguely registering various symptoms of shock; confusion, clammyness, rapid heartbeat, anxiety.  There was an out of body kind of feeling to it all - she knew she should be responding in some way, but her brain seemed unable to process the information before her, let alone react to it.  “I-- I don’t understand.”

Delphine reached out a tentative hand and laid it down briefly over Cosima’s forearm, her warmth permeating even through the layers of Cosima’s blazer.  “I am sorry, I-- I don’t know why I thought meeting you like this with no forewarning and just.. blah!,” she mimicked expelling a spew of words out of her mouth, “would be a good idea.  Scott tried to talk me out of it.”  She smiled crookedly, warm hazel eyes trained on Cosima.  “I hope that, maybe, we can laugh about my idiotic approach over drinks sometime soon?”

Cosima pursed her lips, unwilling to give anything to the hidden camera crew that must have been taping her reaction this whole time.  What other explanation could there be?

Delphine nodded her head dejectedly in response, standing up.  “Bon.  Cosima, I hope I didn’t completely ruin my chance of getting to know you better.  If you are interested in the development position, please give Scott a call.”  She placed a business card on the glass tabletop and slowly slid it toward Cosima.  “In case you are interested in having a drink together, my number is here.  Either way, this should not influence your decision on the job -- that position would have no interactions with my department.”

Cosima reached out for the card, sliding it over closer with the tip of her finger.  She quirked up an eyebrow at Delphine who stood up straighter in response, then focused back on the card.  “So…,” she paused, then looked at the blonde thoughtfully, “six months?”

“Hah,” Delphine chuckled with relief, then nodded, smiling sheepishly.  “One could say I resorted to extreme measures.”

“I see,” Cosima nodded gravely, standing up as well.  She gave Delphine a probing look, then stepped up, extending her hand.  “It was good to meet you, and thank you for your time.  I’ll be in touch.”

She could see Delphine’s eyes widen with surprise, but then she grasped Cosima’s hand warmly, her grip firm.  “The pleasure was all mine.  I look forward to it.”

She continues to bustle around the tiny, primitive kitchen, cleaning up the small mess she’s made while preparing the questionable tea. She’s far more resourceful than Cosima has ever given her credit for; using a pestle and mortar, she had crushed up the various plants and herbs herself, mashing them up until they were very fine. She then added them to the boiling water, allowing the “tea” to steep for a few minutes before handing it to the apprehensive clone who currently sits cross-legged on the cot, still contemplating whether or not it’s safe to drink.

“I know, I know,” she says with a dismissive sigh. “But seriously? This smells like dirty socks, or something I should be smoking.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, an idea sparks to life in her head and she immediately throws her feet over the edge of the cot. She bends down, placing the mug safely on the floor before standing rather quickly, stopping for a brief second in case the light-headedness decides to ensnare her as it has on multiple occasions as of late. Once she’s sure she’s in the clear, her burst of enthusiasm carries her.

“Where are you going?” the doctor asks, confused by the slight commotion she can hear going on behind her.

Delphine finally turns around to take note of Cosima’s unusual behaviour. She watches the brunette with a mix of concern and curiosity while Cosima ignores her question, padding over to the bag of her belongings which is tucked safely away near the back of the yurt, hidden under piles of books and clothes incase any uninvited guests decide to snoop around.

“Slow down, Cosima. You’re still recovering.”

She didn’t have much time to gather her things when fleeing with Charlotte; she had been sure to procure a few vials of the cure that was slowly and steadily working its way through her body, as well as some clothes. Thankfully she had already packed her laptop and vaporizer away prior to Rachel’s sudden and violent appearance.

“I almost forgot about this,” she says, holding the device above her head triumphantly.

“What… is it?” Delphine asks, head cocked as she inspects Cosima’s prize from a distance.

“It’s my vaporizer,” Cosima clarifies. “You know, for smoking only the finest of herb? Much better than whatever the hell you put in that.”

She brings her thumb and index finger together and draws them to her lips, making a smoking gesture for further emphasis. When Delphine arches a brow in her direction, Cosima flashes one of her characteristic grins before returning to her bag. Hunched over, she rummages through it in search of the aforementioned herb. She’d smoked quite a bit while she was staying at Susan’s compound. She hadn’t brought a lot with her because she didn’t think she’d be with the duplicitous doctor for very long and now here she is, trapped in a yurt with her long-lost love with just enough left to grant her a few hours of reprieve.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’re in short supply of herb,” Delphine mumbles, hands folded over her chest as she watches Cosima at work. “And by “short” I mean there isn’t any on this island.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Cosima retorts, finally locating the ziplock bag and pulling it out. “See? I packed my own lunch, Mom.”

Delphine makes her way over to the cot with the smallest hint of a smile, sitting on the edge and watching as Cosima manages to find her grinder in the bag, as well. She sprinkles what’s left of the pot into the grinder, twisting it to break up the bud. Despite having seen the dreadlocked woman do this many times while they were dating back in the simpler days of DYAD, the European always finds herself fascinated by how methodical Cosima is with the process, how meticulously she rolls a joint or packs her piece.

“I sorta started a mini grow-op— well, Scott suggested it, actually. He thought it would help with the appetite. He said I needed to keep eating cause I was losing too much weight and, I mean, I wasn’t about to pass up an excuse to get stoned whenever I want,” Cosima admits, grinning sheepishly back at her love who giggles quietly in response. “But in all honesty, it didn’t really help all that much. Just kinda pulled me away from things for a couple hours at a time.”

She remembers how sharp the world seemed for those few months she remained trapped in limbo after Delphine’s disappearance— as if she could split herself wide open on one of the oh so many jagged edges that seemed to have encapsulated her life, imprisoning her and leaving her to fester in a pit of guilt and denial. After a few tokes, those edges seemed to dull ever-so-slightly, or at least enough so that she could force her lips into a small, pathetic smile and mutter a simple “fine” to deflect everyone’s glaring concern.

For that short but impossibly long while, the weight seemed to slip right off her bones until her cherished collection of oversized sweaters and cardigans began to suffocate her. While they once loosely draped over her petite frame in an endearing manner, she found herself drowning in them. She found herself with so much extra space that she was certain she could fit either Sarah or Alison in them, as well, like two mischievous kids trying on their mother’s clothes.

Where had all that free space come from?

She stops herself, brow furrowing as the airiness surrounding her begins to dissipate, replaced by something heavy and dark.

“It wasn’t the disease,” she says quietly, her voice nearly a whimper as realization strikes her.

Nothing about that space was extra at all. It didn’t suddenly appear. She hadn’t gained anything— rather lost pieces of herself that she hadn’t truly realized had been there in the first place. And those parts that she lost? Those parts of her that had previously occupied that space? They had dwindled and died with Delphine, leaving her with nothing but jagged edges and oceans of wool and cashmere that she couldn’t pull herself out of to catch her breath.

“I-It was right after—”

“Cosima.”

Sensing where her thoughts are leading, Delphine stops her before the clone has the chance to explore that path more thoroughly. Cosima looks up again, over to her lover with glossy eyes and a lower lip that trembles.

“Come,” Delphine says gently, reaching out and beckoning the brunette to join her on the cot. “Come drink your tea before it gets cold.”

Cosima nods silently and obeys the simple command. Bringing the grinder and the vaporizer with her, she takes a seat next to the willowy blonde who reaches over to retrieve the mug from the floor and hand it to her patient once again.

“You seriously expect me to drink this?”

“I promise it doesn’t taste as bad as it smells.”

There’s a momentary standoff before Cosima relents with a defeated sigh, trading the grinder and vaporizer for the mug. Taking a deep breath and clamping her eyes shut, she tips her head back and takes a long swig of the liquid.

“And?”

She swallows begrudgingly, trying to keep her face from contorting as a result of the bitterness hitting her tongue.

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” she confesses upon clearing her throat. “But it’s still pretty shitty.”

Delphine laughs again, shrugging.

“Well, I tried.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Smiling, she leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of Delphine’s lips, only the doctor tilts her head at the last possible second and their lips meet full-on. They both linger in the embrace, the French woman raising a hand to tenderly brush her knuckles over Cosima’s cheekbone. When Cosima finally pulls away with a dopey grin reminiscent of the one she wore the first time Delphine had pressed a kiss to both her cheeks, she trades the tea for her vaporizer and Delphine sets the mug of steaming sludge on the floor again to be forgotten. Opening her grinder, the quirky young scientist begins to pack her vaporizer and Delphine watches her with a look of contentment, lowering herself until she’s reclining on her back.

“You want some?” Cosima asks, finally successful in her endeavour.

As she waits for the device to heat up, she follows Delphine’s lead and lowers herself onto the cot until she’s nestled snuggly against the blonde’s side. It’s a tight squeeze, but neither of them really mind; they’ve grown accustomed to sleeping virtually on top of each other in the short while that Cosima’s been recovering, as if making up for lost time. Their hands find each other as they always do, their fingers twirling and dancing with one another.

“I don’t know…”

Sensing the hesitation in her voice, Cosima peers up to drink in the blonde’s bemused expression. She gives her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Oh, come on,” she tries to coax, running the pad of her thumb over the Delphine’s knuckles. “Remember the last time we did this?”

Delphine smiles.

How could she forget?

That was the first time she told Cosima she loved her. It was the first time she heard those words uttered back to her. It was the first time since before the truth came out that they had shared a moment of reprieve— an arrhythmia in the chaotic beat that had become their lives.

“We could both use a little unwinding. Especially you, ” Cosima pushes.

She isn’t wrong. They both know this. Delphine’s been on edge from the second the ailing clone first entered the campsite. Despite being overjoyed at the sight of her, between trying to stabilize her lover and ward off suspicion from their hosts, she hasn’t had a moment to relent. While the cure seems to be slowly and miraculously working, she knows Cosima isn’t out of the woods just yet and until the brunette is well enough to take care of herself and far away from the danger of this island, she can’t let her guard down.

“I’m fine,” she dismisses Cosima’s concern. “Someone has to take care of you.”

Cosima sighs.

“Hey.”

Propping herself up on her elbow so that she’s hovering over the doctor, she brings her hand to Delphine’s face and traces feather-light patterns over her cheek with the tips of her fingers, prompting the taller woman to smile and meet her gaze.

“My vitals are stable,” she says softly. “They were stable an hour ago when you last checked them, and the three hours before that, and the two before that.”

Neither of them are naive enough to believe that Cosima is fully back to her former self, but considering the state she was in upon arrival, the American knows that the worst is over. She can feel it. With the cure administered and Delphine back at her side, she knows that however long the process may take, she’s going to make a full recovery.

“I’m doing fine.”

In a bid to reassure the blonde, she sits up and reaches for her vaporizer. The glowing green light indicates that it’s ready to use and she brings the mouthpiece to her lips, taking a long drag and holding it in her lungs for a few seconds

“See? No coughing, no seizures, no blood,” she says with an easy exhalation of smoke. “I’m totally fine.”

After falling ill, she’d opted for the vaporizer because it was much easier on her lungs, extracting all of the other harmful chemicals that might be found while smoking a typical joint. Even still, the tickle in her lungs always persisted even if it wasn’t quite as harsh.

But now?

She takes another heavy toke, allowing the vapour to fill the chamber of her lungs and linger a little longer this time. She waits for the burning to come, for her body to violently retaliate, but it doesn’t. Her lungs don’t scream and quake and give out like they’ve done for so long. She exhales again and both of their eyes watch as the smoke drifts up towards the ceiling before dissipating.

“God, I can’t remember the last time I took a deep breath without my body spazzing out,” Cosima muses, lowering herself back down to the doctor’s side.

Lifting the mouthpiece to Delphine’s lips, they exchanging a knowing, trusting gaze before Delphine parts them slightly and draws it in, following Cosima’s previous example and taking a heavy toke. The buzz hits her almost instantly and she expels the vapour with a small chuckle, her body thrumming.

“See? Aren’t you glad I brought this?”

Delphine nods, her eyes sliding shut as she allows the tingle to wash over over. Reclaiming the mouthpiece, Cosima takes a much smaller drag this time before setting the device down on the floor next to the neglected tea and nestling herself into the blonde, tucking her head beneath Delphine’s chin.

“That reminds me of our game,” Delphine mutters, finding her words once more.

“Oh yeah?”

With an arm wrapped around the smaller woman, she drags her fingertips along Cosima’s bicep, absently stroking the flesh. They both delight at the contact, smiles of contentment stretching across their features as they both take a second to bask in the moment.

“What in your life do you feel most grateful for?”

Cosima pauses.

“Right now? This pot is pretty nice.”

Neither of them can contain their laughter and Delphine lightly swats the clone on the shoulder.

“You’re supposed to answer seriously!”

“Okay, okay!”

Once the giggles subside, silence befalls them yet again and Cosima finds herself lost in thought as she gives Delphine’s question the attention it deserves. The doctor tries not to erupt into another fit of laughter when she peers down and notices the look of concentration on Cosima’s face as she stares up at the ceiling, her eyes narrowed and lips slightly pouted.

“In all seriousness, I’m grateful just to be breathing right now.”

Perhaps it isn’t such a deeply profound answer, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

“It’s not really one of those things you think about until you, like, can’t breathe at all,” she tries to explain, waving a hand in the air for emphasis. “I always took my health for granted until I didn’t have it anymore. And as I was dying, all I could think of was all the missed opportunities.”

Delphine swallows hard, the humour sucked away completely. While she may not know what it feels like to be denied breath, she knows exactly what it feels like to stare death in the face and find yourself haunted by all of your indecisions.

“You’re not dying,” she says, firm in her conviction. “Not anymore.”

“Yeah.”

Her hand finds Cosima’s again and their fingers lock, binding them to one another.

“What about you?” Cosima asks, glancing up again to read her lover’s expression.

Delphine expels a soft hum of consideration.

“I’m grateful for… new opportunities.”

Cosima releases a small chuckle, drawing one out from the blonde, as well. They’re both fully aware of how cliche such a statement is but even still, the dreadlocked scientist can’t bring herself to throw out a witty remark. Not after everything that’s happened. Their smiles quickly fade again as Delphine inhales a sharp breath, steadying herself as she gathers her thoughts.

“When I saw that gun pointed at me, I… I thought I was dead. I knew I was dead,” she stammers. “And even though there was nothing I could do, all I could think of was all the things I should have told you when I had the chance.”

Cosima’s lips part, a tiny gasp escaping. With dewy eyes, she readjusts herself so she can better read Delphine’s expression, but she’s met with such impermeability that she isn’t sure how to interpret it; even though the doctor’s words are laced with regret, she wears the coyest of smiles that seems to contradict everything that’s come before.

“But I didn’t die,” she continues. “And I told myself that if I ever saw you again, I wouldn’t hesitate anymore. I would say all of those things that escaped me the first time. I would be better.”

Cosima’s mouth becomes dry and she can’t be certain if it’s a side effect of being stoned or Delphine’s revelation that’s the culprit. She remembers having that very same conversation with herself far too many times to count; after Delphine had disappeared, she refused to admit what she knew it her heart was most likely true— that the blonde was dead. Even though she couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation for her lover’s absence, she clung to the hope that they’d see each other again. And when they did? Things would be so, so different. She promised herself she wouldn’t hold back— that she wouldn’t be so guarded with the doctor anymore. Of course, she knew she had every reason to be guarded with her. Delphine had betrayed her numerous times, after all. And yet, with more than enough reason and ammunition to use against her complicated love, she came to the conclusion that it was much too exhausting to keep up the fight.

Things would be different, she told herself.

She would talk to Delphine. They would work through the trust issues. She would much rather risk the potential fall than not have Delphine in her life at all. Whatever damage she would open herself up to, it would be worth it. It would certainly be less painful than the large, gaping hole left in the very center of her soul that came with Delphine’s absence.

Things would be different.

But then, how long have they been in this yurt without having an actual conversation about the one thing on both of their minds? This silly game had been Delphine’s idea, a cheap attempt to get to know each other better and even though they’d both embraced the idea, the brunette realizes they’ve both been tiptoeing around the real questions, hiding behind her health or the disturbing reality of their situation. They could ask each other these questions until they were blue in the face, but why couldn’t either of them seem to find the words that mattered— words they promised themselves they’d never hesitate to speak ever again?

“But then I saw you stumble through camp and I couldn’t remember all of the promises I’d made to myself, all of the conversations I’d rehearsed and the plans I’d made for us in my head. All I could think of was you— of just having you close.”

Cosima finds her smile again.

It’s a teary smile, one that knows both the pain of loss and isolation and the joy of reunion. With a sharp intake of breath that borders on a sob, she cups the doctor’s face in her hands and holds her, illuminated by the light reflected back at her.

What had she been so afraid of?

“I’m grateful that you’re here, Cosima,” Delphine gushes. “I’m grateful that I can be near you and touch you again, even if it is just checking your vitals. I’m—”

The clone silences her lover with a kiss, pressing their lips together with a force that takes them both by surprise. If she was grateful for breath before, right now she’s grateful for the absence of it—for the lapse in time and space in which they fill themselves with nothing but each other, with frantic fingers that clutch at clothes and heat that simmers in their stomachs, radiating out into the rest of their extremities. Delphine responds in kind, her mouth sliding open wider to accommodate this newfound warmth, a tiny groan of appreciation slipping out from the back of her throat.

Cosima clumsily maneuvers herself in the tight space, trying her hardest to pull herself up without falling off the cot and hurting herself. She pries their lips apart so that she can straddle Delphine properly, knees falling on either side of the blonde’s curvaceous hips. As soon as she’s found her desired position, she refastens her lips to Delphine’s and tugs at the hem of her loose-fitting shirt.

“Take this off,” she whispers breathlessly into swollen, red lips that pout at the loss of contact.

Delphine springs up, beckoned forward by the gravity of her desire which has increased tenfold upon Cosima’s command. She wraps her arms around the shorter woman, holding Cosima in her lap and enveloping her fully. Bringing her lips to the Cosima’s ear, her sharp and laboured breaths tickle and tease, drowning out all other sound until all the brunette is aware of is the urgency in the air, the thickness of her lover’s smothering breaths.

“Are you sure?” Delphine counters, pressing a kiss just below Cosima’s ear.

A shiver rolls down Cosima’s spine and she nods enthusiastically, hands finding her lover’s face again and cupping it delicately.

“I need you. Like this,” she whines, her hips gyrating on their own accord. “Just touch me.”

With such a plea, with Cosima’s sex pressing against her, how can she possibly say no? She divests herself of the shirt in an instant and then reaches for Cosima’s, helping her do the same. With Cosima in her arms, she twists their bodies, reversing their positions so that she can lower the shorter woman onto her back and drape her body over her. She presses her weight into the American, suddenly bold and unafraid of harming her fragile form. She isn’t sure if it’s the marijuana or Cosima or a potent combination of both, but her entire world is buzzing, whirling, combusting.

“Mon amour,” she coos, dragging her lips along Cosima’s neck in their downward journey. “I’ve missed you so.”

Cosima sighs, burying her hands in the abundance of lengthy, golden curls that have grown significantly in their absence from each other, anchoring the blonde to her. Lips dip lower, lower, reaching her chest and showering warm kisses just above her bra line before Cosima lifts her torso to aid in its removal, leaving her upper half bare and exposed.

Delphine stops herself, her eyes dropping to take in the sight of her lover; the last time she’d undressed the clone, there had been a different kind of urgency— one that was rooted in survival. She hadn’t had time to truly appreciate the gift splayed out before her, but now it seems they have nothing but time, trapped in this godforsaken yurt with nothing to do but unravel each other in as many ways as they possibly can.

She thinks this is, perhaps, the best way to learn about each other. Her lips always feel more free when they are gliding against Cosima’s skin; free from the lies and other straining obligations, she feels most like herself when she speaks their lover’s language along the brunette’s curves, eliciting those tiny gasps and moans that ring much louder than any word in either of their vocabularies. Even though Cosima’s curves have waned somewhat to make way for all the angles of her illness— the jutting ribs and stinging hips— she will always be soft and fluid in her eyes, delicate as the wisps of baby hairs peeking out of her dreads at the scalp that the blonde’s spent so many nights tenderly stroking while her soulmate slumbers at her side.

Delphine’s lips latch onto a nipple, both of them groaning loudly as the dusky nub grows harder in the heat of her mouth and she swirls her tongue around the perky bead of flesh, familiarizing herself with the terrain once more. While so much of their lives have changed since their separation, she’s pleased to know that this small, great thing hasn’t. Cosima’s body reacts just as it did before, and just like before, her own body is able to play off this. A hand dips down to cup the brunette through her pants, her thumb stroking at Cosima’s center and garnering yet another loud moan, an undulation of hips as she seeks a greater friction.

“Shit,” Cosima hisses, feeling a flood of wetness begin to rush to the already present pool between her legs.

Short, blunt nails dig into Delphine’s shoulder blades and the French woman smiles as she descends even lower, tongue encircling Cosima’s navel before dipping inside.

“You’re going to kill me,” Cosima whimpers, her eyes clamping shut and neck craning back as she arches into her lover’s attentions.

She can feel the tears begin to bite behind her lids as Delphine’s lips and tongue continue to torment the lower part of her belly, deft hands still teasing at her breasts. The sensations are almost too much for her to take and yet she knows if Delphine were to suddenly stop, her entire world would crumble around her.

“Never,” Delphine breathes, her hands dropping to the waistband of Cosima’s pants and slowly peeling them down her pale legs, underwear in tow. “I’ll take care of you. Always.”

Before she has a chance to respond, gentle lips against her center steal the words right out of her mouth and she has to settle for a squeak instead, hands reaching out for something to grab hold of. They’re disappointed by their lack of options and so she brings them to her face, tugging her glasses off and tossing them aside so she can hide.

“Please… Delphine…”

Her knees fall open, parting herself widely to offer all of herself to her courteous lover, trying to bite back the sighs and moans that continue to rise in intensity. She isn’t sure just how secure their lodging is, whether or not others from the camp will be able to hear them from outside, so she tries her hardest to hold back, but God— Delphine’s mouth.

Delphine’s mouth is on her and it’s better than she remembers.

It’s true, she’s definitely missed the sex, but in the months that she’s spent mourning, sex was one of the very last things on her mind. There were nights where she’d wake up in a sweat craving Delphine’s touch, but it was the simpleness of her presence more than anything that her heart cried out for; if she could just see the blonde again, just hold her close, she told herself that it would be enough. She would be satisfied. She would often fantasize about their reunion, a million different scenarios playing out in her head, though with all of the possibilities, she never could have landed on this one— the two of them finding each other in such a dismal place, under such dismal circumstances.

Through the haze of her arousal, her eyes lock with Delphine’s which are gazing up at her, face buried and coated in Cosima’s wetness as she moans and hums appreciatively, sending tiny vibrations straight to the brunette’s core. She had wanted to be the one to shower the doctor with her affection, to sink into her from above, but somehow this feels more honest. She knows there will be time later— time to trace the outline of the neatly stitched scar on her lover’s abdomen with her lips as she whispers her hushed apologies and vows of devotion. She knows there will be time later but she wonders if Delphine is aware of this, as well— the blonde laps at her with such a hunger and a desperation that the world may as well be ending.

Perhaps it is.

Cosima couldn’t understand what was going on. An unsettling cloud had consumed her mind, and the world was a monochromatic blur as she stumbled along the platform before her. It was a familiar space with two other areas loaded with shaded seats that folded against the wood-patterned plastic. When at first she was alone, an invisible form bumped into her shoulder with enough force to knock her off balance. She stumbled, having not noticed the tall platform boots that hugged her calves up to her knees. Despite the lack of color, she knew the dreads that whipped past her as she started to fall were a mixture of black and green to go with the babydoll dress she wore, fluttering in the wind as she began to descend to flashing lights and blaring horns.

Emerging from invisibility like a shadow suddenly solidifying, a hand grabbed her arm, strong and firm yet still gentle, keeping her from falling onto the tracks of the oncoming trolley.

“Be careful, Cosima.”

Reaching up to fix her glasses, she took in the sight of the blonde, dressed in blue and red spandex, a red cape flapping in the wind behind her. There was no doubting the vibrant colors that poured from every inch of the tall, lithe form. The starbursts in her eyes held a life of color and wonder that drew her in. “Delphine.” This wasn’t how the memory happened. Or was it? It felt like Delphine had always been there with her, but it was impossible. She was too young… Delphine was too young… but God she was so hot.

“Don’t fall, Cosima, or you’ll never make it to Comic-con.”

“What?” Cosima blinked, her eyes narrowing. Comic-con? She’d only gone twice and that was almost a decade ago. She let her hands slide up the spandex covered biceps, feeling the muscles flex as both arms captured her.

Delphine pulled her close, pressing lips against her own and taking her breath away. She felt her blood ignite as she tangled her fingers in blonde curls, the arm wrapping around her waist bringing with it a path of fire that seared away the clouded mess of her mind.

Suddenly she felt a heaviness coming over her body. The warmth melted away to a subtle chill and she felt an ache coming over her body.

“Cosima?”

Blinking her eyes open, Cosima found those same eyes looking at her, but she was no longer in California, and Delphine was no longer dressed in spandex. Maybe she was still half-asleep but she couldn’t help but pout at that.

“Are you ok?” Delphine blinked in confusion. She took a seat on the edge of the bed, setting a bowl on the bedside table. She held the back of her hand to the brunette’s cheek, concern evident in her eyes. She had a constant worry that there would be an adverse reaction to the treatments. “You don’t feel warm. Are you feeling short of breath?”

Cosima shook her head, her hand coming up to rub the sleep from her eyes. “No. I just had the strangest dream.” She struggled to push herself up, her arms shaking to support her weight. “One of those weird dreams meet memories type things, you ever get those?”

Delphine nodded, trying her best to help where the woman would allow her, wedging a pillow behind her back. “What was the memory?”

“From when I was 19, my friends and I went to Comic-Con and I nearly fell in front of a trolley when one of the security guards caught me..” looking up at the blonde who was watching her attentatively, she smiled shyly. “Except in my dream it wasn’t him, it was you.”

Raising an eyebrow, Delphine reached up to straighten the brunette dreads, giving her a small smile. “I have no idea what a Comic-con is but I’m glad I was there for you in your dream.” She picked up the bowl of steaming liquid and held it out.

“God, how do you always know how to cut me so deep?” Cosima chuckled as she accepted the soup, breathing in the scent of broth. “Do I even want to know what this is?”

“Considering your normal diet, probably not.” Delphine gave her an apologetic smile. “You need the energy and supplies are very limited, ma cherie.”

Cosima knew better than to argue, like she hadn’t any other meal. “So… what’s the next question? I feel like if we don’t start answering them all, we’ll be here for weeks… maybe months… and well… yurts are probably not the sexiest places to hang out…”

Delphine chuckled, but there was a hollowness to it, one that would be undetectable to someone who hadn’t spent every moment of the past few months analyzing every moment they spent together.

“What? Tell me you’re not dying for like a real shower? Not that I don’t like a good sponge bath but…”

Delphine shook her head, giving her a soft laugh. “Non… it’s nothing. I was just wondering, I know I brought it up, but the more I think about it, is there really a point to these questions? Surely they are meant for those who do not… have our history.” Her eyes fell to her hands, now empty since handing over the nutritional offerings. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself, wanting to spend every possible moment with the conscious American but not wanting to interfere with her meal.

“Probably.” Cosima blew on the spoonful of steaming soup. She could feel the troubled vibe pouring off the woman. “But… there is still a lot we don’t know about each other.”

Delphine nodded.

“I mean, I feel like we’ve already gotten closer. Don’t you?”

Delphine nodded again. “Dèsolèe. I’m being silly.” She picked at the blanket, pulling away a small pilled ball.

“Soooo?” Cosima waited until light hazel eyes looked up at her. “The question?”

“Oh…” She pursed her lips, trying to remember the list. She knew the next question, but she hesitated asking. Maybe she should skip to the next question? It was less morbid.

“Come on, Big D. What is it?”

With a sigh, she just went with it. “Do you have a… um… set idea of how you will die?”

Cosima blinked. “Wow… that’s really a question?”

“Unfortunately…”

“Ok.” Cosima shrugged as she thought about it. She wasn’t really sure how to answer. After all, she’d been dying for half a year now. She’d accepted the inevitability of her own death, but now things had changed. There was a greater chance she’d live now. “Well… considering your propensity for attempting to suffocate me in your vag, I’d say that’s a pretty solid possibility.”

“COSIMA!”

Cosima couldn’t stop the laughter that spilled from her, the blonde’s dark red blush only fuelling the laughing fit. Eventually it desolved into a coughing fit as she began to struggle to find her breath.

Quickly grabbing the bowl before it could tip, Delphine shook her head, rubbing the woman’s back soothingly. “You are such a brat.”

“I know, I know.” Cosima’s voice was hoarse as she made a sound that was the marriage of a laugh and a cough. “No… but seriously.” She took a sip from the water Delphine held out for her. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about dying… at least until Iwas actually dying. I just… I don’t like the idea of thinking life could end some day. Instead I would rather focus on living life today. Carpe Diem and all that nonsense. ” She shrugged. “So I guess… I don’t have one…” She gave the blonde an unsatisfied frown. “God that’s a lame answer.”

“Non. Your answer is good, ma cherie.” She smiled. “It was very… you.” Delphine couldn’t help leaning down to brush a quick kiss against her lips.

Cosima grinned against the woman’s lips, enjoying the soft contact for a moment before pushing her away. “Hey… what about you? You don’t get to skip answering”

Delphine nodded. “Ok. I will tell you if you promise… not to laugh.”

“Me? Laugh?” Cosima’s grin spread across her face, her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth.

With a roll of her eyes, Delphine pressed the bowl back into her hands, hoping to distract her. “Well, when I was 12 or 13, I was in class and had a sudden thought that… I was going to die at the age of 35 from a brain tumor.”

The spoon paused in mid air on route to Cosima’s mouth. “That's… specific. So like… a premonition?”

Delphine shrugged, a move that seemed very unnatural for shoulders that usually held such confidence. “It wasn’t like any sort of psychic vision or anything, Cosima. It was just… a strange certainty that overcame me and I’ve yet to be able to shake the idea.”

“But like a brain tumor?” Cosima sat up a little straighter, brows furrowed in worry. “Have you gotten yourself checked out? Is it something you’re predispostioned for? What’s your family history?”

“Oui… and non.” Delphine answered in confusion. She had expected perhaps a bit of humorous poking, not the obvious concern. “No one in my family has had a tumor and of course I’ve gotten scanned… but it’s just a silly idea.”

Cosima shook her head, reaching up to run her hand through the loose curls. “This brain is really important, not just to me, but to the rest of the world.” She pulled the woman down to press a kiss to her forehead. “When we get back to civilization, we’ll get you another scan, ok? I mean, we’ve got a few years, but I’d feel better making sure.”

“It was just a childish thought, Cosima.”

“I just want to be sure.” Cosima shrugged. “I mean, it might be complete bullshit, or maybe it’s some sort of vision of the future… even though I know you don’t believe in stuff like that. Either way, better to be safe than sorry.”

Delphine couldn’t help but smile. Of course she didn’t actually believe she would die at 35. She wasn’t even sure why she told the brunette beyond the fact that they had agreed to tell the truth no matter how preposterous the answers were. And… the brunette’s concern was adorable. “Je taime, Cosima.”

“Can you just like get her and bring her here?” Cosima asks, too exhausted to cling to her stubbornness any longer.

“I might be able to, but she’s being cared for elsewhere.” Delphine shrugs, “another doctor, another yurt. They may not let me bring her here.”

“I’m cold.” Cosima admits sheepishly, easing herself down onto the cot. “So much for that plan.”

Delphine moves immediately to the woodstove, adding more wood, before stripping out of her own outer layers.  The yurt heats up fast, with its insulation and small size. And she can only handle a couple of minutes with her coat on.

She moves near immediately to Cosima’s coat, unfastening it, and tucking her love back into the bed when she notices an eyeroll.  Good, she thinks, Cosima is getting better.  Realistically, she should have seen this coming, her patient’s energy is limited. Charlotte is faring much better than her big sister, the child is reading and moving around at will in another yurt.  The treatment may actually have more effect on the child, her symptoms being less advanced. Though she often worries, what will happen to her? Can she protect them both? If the choice is Cosima or Charlotte, would she even be able to feign objectivity?

“It could be worse.” Cosima informs her, leaning back and letting her tired body rest.

She’s pulled from her thoughts near instantly, “How so?” Delphine moves to the cot, easing herself sitting down next to Cosima.

Cosima waves a hand dismissively. “I could be sick and dying without you. I mean, if those were my options.”

“You’re not dying.” Delphine spits out between gritted teeth. “Stop being so dramatic.” At the very least, Cosima is in no danger of dying in the next few hours, though maybe she should take her vitals again. She doesn’t want to be reminded any more about the seriousness of their situation, even with a treatment.

“Vitals again?” Cosima seems bored by it now, watching as she checks her heartrate, her lungs, her blood pressure. It’s methodical, but so soothing to hear life reasserting itself. “With all of this attention I am going to live to be one very old, very cranky lady.”

“I have another question for you.” Delphine thinks, suddenly inspired. “It’s an either or. And you have to pick one.”

“So what is it?” Cosima smiles, happy to have the entertainment.

“If you had to choose, you could either get old and keep your body as it is now until age 90.

“Age 30, roughly. Got it.” Cosima interjects. “Go on.”

“Or,” Delphine stops, pausing for dramatic effect. “Keep your 30 year old mind until you’re 90 and let your body age.”

“Oooh, tough choice Dr. Cormier.” Cosima giggles. “I want to hear your answer first. So what’s it going to be?”

“Well, it’s tempting-” Delphine starts briefly.

“Of course it’s tempting, have you seen you? Holy shit.” Cosima interrupts impishly, catching Delphine’s fingers with her own.

“But what is the point of having a 30 year old body if my mind is gone? It’s moot at that point. I’d rather keep my mind.” She strokes Cosima’s cheek absentmindedly, she’s getting far too warm with the woodstove and will have to strip down sooner or later. Perhaps it is time for another extended cuddle session.

“So staying brainy versus staying sexy?” Cosima tilts her head.

“I will still be sexy at 60.” Delphine pulls her hand away to cross her arms across her chest, she looks down at Cosima seriously. “I will be sexy regardless of my age.”

“Is that like a French thing?” Cosima wrinkles her nose, “is everyone just thinking differently about it?”

“Do you really think female beauty or sexiness is limited by age?” Delphine shakes her head. “I think you’d rather I keep my mind anyway. How else are you going to enjoy spending time with me?”

“So we’re together in this scenario?” Cosima smiles, then begins to look very sly. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, Delphine, but I’m staying looking like this. You’ll just have to deal with a 90 year old brain in this hot bod…”

“Cosima…” Delphine warns, “I wouldn’t care at that point.”

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding. No, definitely keep my mind, then we’ll at least have each other for company in the nursing home.”

“Good.” Delphine frowns, “nursing home?”

“Of course then we have to be painfully aware as our bodies totally deteriorate. Mobility issues. Illnesses… ugh… it’s not just looks is it?”

With that newfound energy, however, comes a growing restlessness. It creeps and crawls underneath her skin, settling between her ribs, yearning for relief, such that the next time Cosima finds herself alone in the cot, she makes the effort to push herself up into a sitting position. It's a bit of a struggle, her muscles still weak from both her illness and the lingering effects of hypothermia, but she manages.

Cosima takes several deep breaths, pleased that the urge to cough no longer tickles deep within her lungs, and stands. She teeters as a wave of vertigo hits and, teeth grit, she waits for it to pass, concentrating on the icy cold of the wood floor to ground herself from the dizziness. When the room finally stops tilting on its axis, she places one foot forward. Then another. Until she slowly, gingerly, pads her way to the double doors, a sheen of sweat breaking out onto her forehead from even that little bit of exertion.

She reaches out and jiggles the handle, cursing when it immediately clicks and remains stationary.

"Perfect," she mutters.

Bracing her hand on the adjacent wall, Cosima shuffles to a small round window, about the size of a porthole, and peers out, her breath fogging the cold pane of glass. She pushes her glasses higher up on the bridge of her nose and hopes to catch a glimpse of Delphine or Charlotte or, really, anything besides wooden beams and lattice walls. But it's too dark. She can barely make anything out besides vague movement in the shadows cast by the flickering flames of a fire pit in the distance.

Sighing, Cosima turns and resigns herself to lying back down on the cot. She barely takes three steps in that direction when the door unlocks behind her and swings open, heralding the return of a bundled-up Delphine and blast of air so cold that Cosima's teeth chatter in its wake.

"Cosima, what are you doing?" Delphine scolds as she quickly shuts the door. "You shouldn't be up."

"I probably shouldn't be a lot of things. Like, alive for instance. And yet," she shrugs up one shoulder and carelessly flicks her wrist, "here I am."

Delphine's mouth forms an unamused line. "That isn't funny." She removes her knit hat and tosses it to the side, running her fingers through limp blonde waves before unzipping and slipping out of her parka. She approaches Cosima and offers her arm for support. "You need to rest."

"You know what they say," Cosima links their arms together and curls a hand around Delphine's bicep, "you can rest when you're-"

Delphine silences her with an icy finger pressed to Cosima's chapped lips. "Do not even think about finishing that sentence,"

At the glint of pain in hazel, Cosima swallows down any additional quips she might have had and allows Delphine to lead her back to the cot and help lower her down into a sitting position.

"What's gotten into you?" Delphine asks, moving to retrieve a medical kit from her desk to take Cosima's vitals, as she's done countless times already since Cosima and Charlotte entered the camp. She sits next to Cosima, who rubs her temples.

"I'm sorry." Cosima drops her hands onto her lap. "I'm just getting kinda antsy, you know?"

Delphine pulls out a stethoscope. "You're worried about the others," she guesses.

"Yes," Cosima says as Delphine inserts the tips into her ears and warms the diaphragm between her palms. "And Charlotte and, hell, even Susan freakin' Duncan."

Delphine nods. "I have no information on Susan, but I can tell you that Charlotte's fine. I just saw her actually. To distribute some homework."

The news is enough to appease Cosima, who had worried and wondered about the sickly young clone's wellbeing in the days she'd been bedridden. "Can I see her?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Soon. I promise."

Half smiling, Delphine slips the stethoscope's diaphragm underneath Cosima's shirt and presses it against the skin just underneath her left clavicle. Although the device is no longer cold, Cosima nevertheless shivers from Delphine's light touch.

Delphine systematically works her way down Cosima's chest, alternating left and right. Cosima inhales and exhales deeply when directed, taking the time to enjoy Delphine's proximity and the way her brow creases in concentration as she listens for any adventitious respiratory sounds.

"Turn around," Delphine orders gently and Cosima swivels away so her back is facing Delphine.

Delphine rests a hand on her shoulder, slowly smoothing her thumb along the muscle, and repeats the procedure down Cosima's back.

"Your lungs sound better," Delphine comments when she finishes, sounding pleased.

Cosima pivots back and observes Delphine, who takes out a blood pressure monitor next. She'd forgotten how lovely Delphine could look in low light, especially with her face free of any makeup. Unbidden, the image of a swan trapped in a cage flashes through Cosima's mind and her heart thumps uncomfortably in her chest.

"Delphine, can I ask you something?"

"Of course." She opens the cuff, the scratch of Velcro ripping through the air, and wraps it around Cosima's upper left arm.

"And will you answer? Honestly, that is."

Delphine stills momentarily, but then arches one eyebrow. "Is that the question?"

Cosima wryly tilts her head to the side. "No. And I'm not trying to be an asshole, but given our track record, I need to know we're not playing our cards close to the vest anymore."

"Haven't we been honest the past few days?"

"Love questions are one thing," Cosima says. "But everything else…"

Delphine lowers her head, jaw working as she considers the question. The weight of their good intentions turned past transgressions hang heavily between them; phantom aches that still throb in Cosima's chest and have the power to squeeze the air from her lungs. Cosima wonders if she's stepped too far, crossed some invisible line that they had unknowingly set in their efforts to rediscover each other. But then Delphine lifts her gaze to meet Cosima eye-to-eye.

"I'm not hiding anything," Delphine says softly, but with conviction. "Not anymore."

Cosima breathes out through her nostrils, tension already draining. "Good. Neither am I."

Nodding once, Delphine slips the stethoscope's diaphragm underneath the blood pressure cuff and pumps the bulb. The cuff inflates, constricting around Cosima's arm but stops before it becomes too painful. After a few seconds, Delphine releases the pressure in a loud hiss.

"130 over 80," Delphine says. "Still a little high, but improving." She removes the cuff and takes off the stethoscope, setting them both aside. "So, what was your question?"

"Right." Cosima flexes her left arm to try to work some feeling back into the muscle. "Am I… are we," she gestures to the room at large, "prisoners here?"

Delphine worries the corner of her bottom lip. "Think of yourself as more of a guest."

"A guest?" Cosima repeats sardonically. "Then why lock the door?"

"To keep you safe."

"Of course." Cosima nearly rolls her eyes behind her frames. "From who?"

"Everyone." Delphine reaches out for Cosima's hand and intertwines their fingers. "Everything is in flux right now. With Neolution. Topside. I don't know who we can trust, nor do I have all the answers." She lays her free hand atop their joined ones and squeezes lightly. "But I do know that my first priority is protecting you and Charlotte while I'm still here."

Cosima's brows knit together. "While you're still… What is that supposed to mean? Are you leaving or something?"

"I don't know." Delphine shrugs helplessly. "I don't know what they have planned. Or where they'll place me or you or Charlotte."

"No." Cosima shakes her head, fear prickling in her chest. "I'm not letting you out of my sight." She swallows hard. "I won't lose you again, Delphine."

Delphine's eyes soften to a hazy, burnt gold and, cupping Cosima's jaw between her hands, she leans forward and kisses her. It's sweet and soothing and Cosima feels herself growing calm despite her lingering concerns.

"It's going to be okay," Delphine whispers against her lips.

"You don't know that." Cosima keeps her eyes closed as they rest their foreheads together.

"No, I don't." Delphine pulls away slowly and straightens her spine. "We have no control over what might happen. So why don't we just enjoy the time we do have, and get you back in good health. You'll be of no use to your sisters if you're dead."

Delphine stands and walks to a set of wicker baskets lining a wall. She crouches and pushes them to the side, prying up a portion of floorboard and retrieving the small case of syringes that Cosima had brought with her. She removes one and, after securing the hiding spot once more, carries it back to the cot.

Delphine disinfects her hands with a sanitizer and slips them into latex gloves. She grasps Cosima's left arm, palm up, and tenderly palpates the skin beneath the crook of her elbow, teasing out a vein.

"Did you have a good day otherwise?" Delphine changes the subject casually, as if they're out on a coffee date without a care in the world.

Cosima snorts and goes along with it. "Yeah, I mean, what could be more perfect than being trapped on an island in a camp full of eugenical fanatics after escaping a different eugenical fanatic."

Delphine smirks, tightly tying a rubber tourniquet around Cosima's upper arm. "I could think of a few things."

Uncapping the syringe, she holds it vertically, needle pointing up, and flicks the glass barrel with a fingernail to dislodge any air bubbles.

"Oh yeah, like what?" Cosima braces herself for the injection. No matter how many times she's done this, she still hates it and has to force herself to relax.

"Oh, like a lazy day in Paris, mid-spring, when the trees are flowering and the streets smell like fresh rain. Browsing through shops. Avoiding the annoying tourists." In one smooth motion, Delphine inserts the needle into Cosima's arm, pulls back the plunger for blood to ensure she hit the vein, unties the tourniquet, and dispenses the cure. It's over before Cosima registers any pain.

"There's a cafe that serves the best croissants in the world," Delphine continues as she holds a piece of gauze to the injection site and secures it with tape. "Crisp and flaky and so buttery they melt in your mouth."

Delphine closes her eyes and licks her lips, reliving the sensory memory. Cosima just watches her, imagining the day, wishing she could taste the pastries on Delphine's tongue.

Delphine re-opens her eyes and meets Cosima's gaze, almost shyly. "Maybe, we'd walk through a museum…"

"We, huh?" Cosima grins then, toothy and wide.

"Oui," Delphine answers with a smile of her own. "And after dinner, when we're nice and full from the finest French cuisine and wine, we'd go back to my old loft and make love until the sun rose."

Heat spreads across Cosima's cheeks and trickles down her neck, now unable to get that particular image out of her mind, of bare skin and tangled limbs, rhythmic friction and release.

"That, uh, that sounds lovely," she says, clearing her throat. "But I hate to tell you, I've never been to Paris and I'll probably want to be one of those annoying tourists."

Delphine laughs softly. "Maybe the next day then." She wraps the spent syringe into a paper towel to dispose. "And you?"

"Me?"

"What would your perfect day be?"

"You mean besides today?" Cosima lies back down on the cot, stretching her legs past Delphine and turning on her side to face her. She inches back toward the edge to give Delphine some room.

"Don't be cheeky." Delphine gives her a sidelong glance, fighting not to smile and failing.

"Me? Cheeky?" Cosima asks, a hand to her chest, mock offended.

Sighing, Delphine lowers herself and mirrors Cosima's positioning, propping her head up with one hand. "Come on."

Cosima breathes in campfire smoke and cigarettes when Delphine settles. "I've had many perfect days. I don't need to imagine one."

"Then enlighten me."

"Okay, well, there was one day, I was sitting in the library, studying in peace, when a beautiful French woman invited me to a fascinating lecture."

Delphine ducks her head. "Cosima, be serious…"

"No, seriously, imagine the most gorgeous woman on the planet. Brilliant mind too. We debated eugenics. Drank wine. Ran through a courtyard. And when we parted, she kissed me on the cheek and I was a goner. The perfect day."

"I thought you were going to be serious," Delphine says, voice barely above a whisper, pink dusting her cheeks.

"I am being serious." Cosima snuggles closer and crooks a finger underneath Delphine's chin, tilting her face back up. "Want to hear another? One day, I got her hella baked and she told me she loved me."

Delphine is quiet, eyes searching Cosima's. They're so close, Cosima's transfixed by the golden brown corona of Delphine's irises.

"I'd say that day was far from perfect," Delphine finally says, "everything considered."

"I disagree. I don't believe things can be 100 percent perfect 100 percent of the time. Even in your scenario, I'm sure I'd maybe spill a cup of coffee or, like, get us kicked out of a shop because of my mangled French."

Delphine chuckles, her breath ghosting across Cosima's face in gentle puffs.

"I do think there can be perfect moments surrounded by imperfections," Cosima continues. "But when considered all together, those perfect moments can predominate over the imperfect."

"An imperfectly perfect day?"

"Or a perfectly imperfect one." Cosima reaches up and traces the curve of Delphine's eyebrow with the tips of her fingers and slides them down her cheek. "I had one just the other day. Trying to escape with Charlotte before Rachel could gut us too. Getting lost in the woods. Not what one think of as a perfect day, but it was, the moment I saw you in the firelight."

Eyes misting, Delphine captures her hand and lovingly presses her lips to the creases on Cosima's palm.

"We're going to get out of here," she whispers. "You, me, Charlotte. We're going to stop Neolution with your sisters. And then we'll have even more perfectly imperfect, imperfectly perfect days."

It sounds like a dream, distant and unattainable, but with Delphine filling her vision and warmth unfurling in her chest, Cosima wants to believe it can come true.

"Maybe we can start tomorrow," Delphine suggests.

"Tomorrow?"

"With a walk perhaps, if you're feeling up for it."

"Aiming to take up old Kendall's pace, Lass?" The bartender set a pint of stout and a shot of amber liquid on the worn surface in front of one of the few patrons who dared enter his fine establishment before noon. Not that the pub was empty, of course. There were men slouched in their seats with noses buried in their glasses, not keen on going home to numerous children and nagging wives. These were the men that kept the Euro in his pocket and the sign on the door flipped to open.

Delphine offered a grateful smile before tipping the shot back into her mouth, chasing it with a long sip from the pint glass and wiping away the froth that clung to her lip with the back of her hand, a warmth blooming in her stomach. This was exactly what she needed. Under the guise of seeking out information, she had left Cosima in the market as she went in search of, as her friend in college liked to call it, the hair of the dog that bit her, attempting to ease the thrumming in her skull.

She tried not to dwell on the previous night. They had finished off the bottle of whiskey before attacking a bottle of wine, trading stories of both mirth and woe until passing out. Two Truths One Lie… whoever invented the game was a blight on humanity.

In her pocket, the polaroid was a reminder of what she had woken to - the most chagrined look on the brunette's face as she timidly handed over the square, not knowing the rare treasure she held in her hand. In all her years of investigation, she rarely got such clear evidence of the spirits that lingered after death. Usually she had only her senses to rely on, feelings and emotions that tended to take over her entire being when in the presence of the supernatural, but to have tangible proof, she was ecstatic. Or she would be ecstatic if not for the weevil burrowing around her cranium.

"Judgin' by the state o'you, I bet you found what you were lookin' for up at the Malone place?"

Pausing in the middle of another sip, Delphine had to take a minute before answering. There were so many meanings that laid beneath the thin veil of curiosity. Remembering dark hazel eyes and an adorable smirk, she could say she found what she was looking for, but she found a lot more than that, hadn't she? "Partially, but I have a feeling you know exactly what I found, non?"

Looking around to make sure no patrons needed his attention, the man leaned against the surface, the wood bowing slightly beneath his weight. "Kendall spent many nights in here wallowing about exactly what went on under that roof. I can't say I've witnessed it myself, of course."

"Of course." Delphine licked her lips. "So what did Mrs. Malone reveal?"

"Now, she was a woman that could handle her drink, which is why the first time I heard it myself, I thought maybe it was the solitude that done her in. It's not healthy, you know, living alone for years on end, so I thought maybe she was out of her gourd." He shook his head in remembered remorse. "If not for the local legend of that cursed property, I would have cut her off. Ain't right to take money from someone touched in the head." His solemn look was a tad over the top, skewered by the theatrics of his storytelling.

"Cursed property?" The alcohol did little to touch the sudden sober chill that coursed through her, bumps rising on her arm. She didn't believe in evil and curses, but she'd run into the residual emotions of very angry spirits that still lingered. As if summoned, she felt a wave of sadness and anger come over her, a familiarity to it that she tried her best to ignore. One ghost at a time, she decided.

"That's what folks say. I don't believe in it myself, of course, but the land is not free of tragedy. " The barkeep took to wiping the counter, more to look busy than to actually clean the worn wood considering Delphine was pretty sure the rag hadn't been changed out since she was last in the establishment. "Was long ago when it happened, 'fore even I was born, when times were different and there were many more things thought against the ways of the Lord."

Delphine tilted her head in acknowledgement.

"Well, mind you it depends on who you ask, but local legend says that there once was a young lass that lived on the land with none but her father. As was the usual in the time, when she came of age, she was arranged to marry an older gent, son of one of the more prosperous families in town, in exchange for land rights."

Delphine winced at that. To be married off for land rights… She didn't even want to focus on what classified as "coming of age" back then. It was criminal in her mind. She took a sip from her beer to prevent the words from slipping out. No sense in dwelling on things that couldn't be changed.

"Well, as it would turn out, marriage was the last thing she wanted, at least not to her betrothed. She had herself a friend that was not much older than she was, but legend says she was a bit spirited. She liked to get herself into trouble of all kinds, fighting the boys and refusing to wear dresses. Caused quite a scandal at the time." He laughed, shaking his head. "Anyway, nobody's quite sure what happened, but the lass's father told everyone that one girl corrupted the other, enchanted her with her evil ways and claimed her virtue as her own before disappearing in the wind. Some say she slipped back into the bog, waiting for the next young girl to corrupt."

Disappeared. Delphine doubted that. From what she gathered, it sounded like two girls who fell in love. She couldn't help but suspect either the girl's father or fiancé of foul play. That would explain the anger she had felt, and the sickening smell. Unrequited love was the most difficult type of hauntings she'd found. There was no resolution available. Especially after so many years. "What happened to the daughter?"

The bartender shook his head. "Poor lass. They found her dead two mornings later. The story's not all too clear, but some say poison, some say that the bewitchment still had a hold on her…"

Two deaths not that far apart, all because of ignorance and intolerance. Delphine shook her head, finishing the rest of her beer before dropping a few Euros on the bar. She needed to go find Cosima.

Stepping clear of the bar, wincing at the sun, she felt the weight of sadness dissipate, her head clearing a bit more. She turned towards the mass of bodies in search of the short brunette.

The farmers' market was bustling with activity, the voices of the patrons filling the square. Off to one side and beside a small booth, a few fold out tables with matching folding chairs had been set up for it's patrons.

Cosima sipped from the cup of tea, waiting for the pain in her temple to subside. She hadn't wanted to admit to Delphine how hung over she was, lest the woman think she couldn't handle her liquor.

Despite having not seen her in some time, it was rather easy picking out the brunette. "Siobhan!" Cosima jumped up in excitement as the older woman neared. It wasn't long until arms scooped her up in a hug. A whiff of lavender and gunpowder filled her lungs, bringing her back to when she was just 16, laughing with Sarah about some random boy that had attempted to win Cosima's heart. How many nights had she spent sleeping at Sarah's foster mom's house, when her own home had become a warzone between her parents?

"Look at you, Chicken." Siobhan held the short woman at arms-length, eyes raking over Cosima's form. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You've lost weight. Sarah told me about what happened. Are you eating well enough? You're not exerting yourself too much doing my daughter's work are you?"

"Depends on your definition of exertion I suppose." Cosima grinned, trying to ignore the other bits. It was then that she realized she hadn't thought about her ex at all that morning, not when she could still remember the warmth of Delphine tucked beside her on the couch. "Can I get you some tea?"

"That would be lovely, thank you." Siobhan took a seat as Cosima quickly retrieved a cup for her.

"You look so relaxed." Cosima couldn't help commenting, retaking her own seat. She couldn't even remember how long it had been since she last saw the woman. Before she moved back to Ireland. What she said was true. Gone were the dark shadows and bags under eyes. Not that Siobhan was ever unhappy, she just looked more at ease.

"Shedding the weight of constantly watching over children will do that to you. Especially with the stress of my lot." Siobhan joked, taking a sip of her tea, the corners of her mouth raising in surprised delight. "You remembered how I like it. I had Sarah and Felix in my care for over ten years and it never stuck with them."

A small laugh and Cosima was taking a sip from her own cup. "I mean it's not so hard. Milk first, Assam tea and two level spoons of sugar."

"Kids were always pouring the milk in last." She shook her head in distaste before setting the cup down. "So… how are you liking the country? Not too bad, is it?"

"It's beautiful." Cosima looked around at the bustling market, taking in the crowd. "It's so different from back home and I've been enjoying being away from the madness…. Well… considering."

Siobhan nodded, loosening the scarf around her neck just a bit. "Felix said you were having some trouble?"

"Trouble…" Cosima snorted, "that's one word for it." She adjusted her position, warming her hands around the cup of tea, not sure exactly how to broach the topic. Now that she was face to face with someone that wasn't a paranormal investigator, she was afraid it would make Siobhan question her sanity. "Have you ever… noticed anything weird going on in the cottage?"

"Weird?" Siobhan's face became an unreadable mask, the inquisitive look bordering on artificial.

"Well." Casting a look around, Cosima wanted to make sure no one was near enough to hear their conversation. Leaning closer, she lowered her voice. "You know… bursts of weird smells, the clock chiming at a strange time...:"

"You want to know if I think it's haunted." Siobhan didn't waste any time beating around bushes, not bothering to care who could be around to hear. It was how she'd always been. "Don't look so surprised. My mother was quite adamant about it, especially later in her life."

"You're serious?" Cosima's eyebrows rose. "Does Sarah know and just didn't tell me cause that's pretty messed up. You know she hasn't been answering my calls."

Siobhan waved a hand dismissively at her. "Sarah spent very little time there. It's possible she didn't have a clue." She shook her head. "She was always too wild for isolation."

Cosima could see that. She was well aware of her friend's wild streak and the thought of her cooped up in a cottage far away from town brought a smile to Cosima's face. "So… do you know the story behind it?"

Siobhan nodded. "There have been many tales around town regarding the events that happen there, but don't you believe a word of what's said. None of it's true." The older woman reached into her bag, pulling out an aged book, the leather bindings obviously fragile. "I figured you'd be asking, so I brought along something that might help." She was in the process of handing it over when a shadow cast over the table.

"Delphine!" Cosima perked up almost instantly. "That was fast."

The blonde cast a guilty look her way. She'd been lingering back for a few minutes, trying to decide what to do with herself. Eventually she grew weary of seeming like a strange stalker and decided to see if Cosima was almost done. "Sorry. I don't mean to interrupt."

"No no. It's cool. Pull up a seat. Siobhan was just going to tell me about the haunting."

Siobhan rose an eyebrow as she watched the blonde grab a chair, a smile spread across Cosima's face, her cheeks coloring a light pink. "Who is your friend, Luv?"

"Shit… sorry." Cosima could feel the blush on her cheeks as she saw Siobhan's eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. "Siobhan, this is Delphine. She has been…" She looked at Delphine, not exactly sure how comfortable the woman was about talking about her profession.

"I'm a paranormal investigator. You must be Kendall's daughter? Your son speaks very highly about you."

"I highly doubt that. Felix doesn't speak highly about anyone." Siobhan gave her a small smile. "So… did you two know each other before or…"

"Oh, no." Cosima shook her head, her fingers running idly over the book in her hands. "I had a few… experiences at the cottage and Sarah wasn't picking up her phone."

"Sounds about right." Siobhan snorted.

"Right? So I called Felix and he said he had a friend in the vicinity who could help and voilà!"

Siobhan gave her a dubious look. "So… he sent you a ghostbuster?"

"Paranormal Investigator." Cosima and Delphine corrected at the same time.

When Cosima's blush doubled, Siobhan couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry. Paranormal investigator." She let her eyes slip to Delphine who was eyeing the book in Cosima's hands curiously. "Oh, as I was saying, before you arrived, I think this book might help a bit in getting the details."

Cosima carefully pulled back the cover, her brows instantly furrowing. "This isn't in English…"

Delphine leaned closer. "May I see?" When she was handed the book, she smiled. "Merci." She let her eyes slip over the words, the smile growing. "It's Irish."

"Like Gaelic?"

Delphine almost laughed when she saw Siobhan's eye twitch. "Non. It's Irish. Only Americans refer to Irish as Gaelic, although… there is a Scottish Gaelic but… that's another story." She turned her attention to the flowing penmanship. "It's a diary," she commented, carefully flipping through the pages, making it halfway before blank pages took over.

"You can read it." Siobhan gave her an impressed look.

Delphine nodded. "I haven't in awhile, but it's coming back to me. My roommate in college was from Galway and she insisted that if I ever went to Ireland, I should learn Irish." She let the leaves of paper flip back in place until something caught her eye.

"Well, of course someone from Galway would say that." Siobhan snorted.

Cosima noticed that Delphine had gone quiet and she saw the blonde caressing something in the book, a troubled look on her face. "What?" When the woman turned the book so she could see better, that was when she saw it, a single name pressed into the inner cover.

Caireann Mac Cnáimhín.

Delphine slipped on the knit sweater, the angora threads tickling her chin until she adjusted the collar. She ran a hand through her curls, trying to bring some order to the unruly locks. There was a strange nervousness that infected her entire being, no doubt related to her current companion. "What are you doing?" She asked her reflection.

Ok, so she was alone in a cottage with a beautiful woman who was both intelligent and witty. On the down side, the woman was also recently broken up and the last thing she wanted was to be a rebound. Not to mention she was an American and Delphine was… far from interested in settling roots in the US of A.

However, she thought of the brunette and her heart started beating uncontrollably. When those dark hazel eyes looked her way, the air was robbed from her lungs.

"Get your shit together, Cormier. This is a job, not a dating service."

When she stepped out of the bathroom, her breath caught in her throat.

Cosima sat on the couch, her legs crossed under her, her small frame being completely swallowed by a ridiculously large sweater. The room was doused in auburn streaks from the snapping fire, illuminating the soft curves of the brunette's features as she looked over the old book again. When she looked up, her eyes were like pools of gold in the light. "She has really beautiful handwriting."

Delphine tried to shake off the sudden feeling that she'd seen those features lit up in the light of a fire before. Her mind flashed with the vision of a large expanse of soft skin stained with ink as she moved closer, surrounding her with love and desire. Clearing her throat, she made her way towards the woman who was oblivious to her inner battle. "Well… before computers emerged, people had to write everything down so… practice makes perfect, non?" Delphine dropped down onto the couch, not too close to the brunette, but certainly not too far. "I was looking through this in the car and I believe I've found the perfect place to start."

Cosima turned just slightly, handing the book over. Her knee pressed against Delphine's and when the woman allowed the contact to continue, she smiled. "Ok. Go for it."

Delphine grinned, flipping to a page close to the end of the entries.

Davin.

My sweet Davin.

How many years have we spent in each other's company? How many days have we rolled in the flowers together or splashed in the river beside one another? I've never noticed the way she looked at me, not until my eyes could not leave her own. When she speaks, her words are sweeter than the ripest berries in the garden. When she touches my skin, always in the most appropriate way, a hand on my arm, her lips against my cheek as we part, she leaves a mark on my soul I dare not wash away.

Deitric came to visit today, while Davin and I were in the garden. It felt as though a shadow had dropped over the sacrality of the moment, his hungry eyes claiming me in a holy space that Davin and I built together.

Davin and I.

There will never be a Davin and I, will there? We are destined to be torn apart by marriage and domesticity. Once I'm married, how many more moments like this will we share? I fear Deitric might not appreciate the competition for his attention. Just the thought of his hands on me…

There is nothing I can do about this. If it weren't Deitric, there would be some other suitor, some other invader threatening to separate us. We would never be able to escape this fate. The Lord would never allow such a thing to occur. I must marry Deitric and eventually, I must say goodbye.

A pain lingers within me, just thinking about our inevitable parting. I feel as though Davin and I have run out of time and she is very much aware of that. I can see it in her eyes when we're together, as if she expects every moment to be the last.

I fear the day when it truly is.

"Awww. That's so sweet. Sad, but still sweet." Cosima grins, slipping a little closer. Her fingertips lingering on Delphine's arm.

Delphine closed her eyes for the briefest of moments. She could feel the warmth of the American's breath in her space, filling her lungs, mingling with her own breath. Was she in the present or lingering on the vision she'd felt before? She hated not being able to distinguish past from present. "Um… Looks like there's a little trouble in the water here."

Cosima snorted. "I don't doubt it. Read on."

I wish I could say that this is about the kiss… and what a kiss it was. Davin's lips against mine… I have found heaven. I wish I could spend hours writing about the way her hand brushed against my cheek, reassuring that she would never leave me.

But good fortune never comes without its mate.

Davin is to marry Thomas! She came to me in tears this morning, a sight I never thought I would see. She has always been so strong, always there to soothe my worries away, and now it is my turn to assist with her anguish. Her father has grown weary of her defiance and has arranged the marriage. I cannot imagine her ever being forced to do such a thing. She is a filly that cannot be tamed. She can never be broken.

But I can be.

I am.

I have been.

The idea of losing her has shattered my spirit. The moments we have together only reinforce my impending despair. Between Deitric and Death, I would rather fall into the sweet embrace of eternal damnation than allow his staff to claim my virtue. I will never be his. She will never belong to Thomas.

Delphine cleared her throat as she looked up from the page. "She was really intense."

Cosima got up from her spot on the couch to retrieve something to drink. "Intense is not strong enough of a word." She offered the blonde a glass of wine, trying not to think too much about the fingertips that brushed against her own. "She was just… in love… Haven't you ever been in love before?" She watched as the blonde shifted uncomfortably, taking a sip of wine to prevent her answer. "Oh my god. You haven't, have you?"

"You say that as if it's a bad thing. I don't really have time for love."

"Don't you ever just want to have that… connection with someone? To experience merging with someone so completely that it's like… you're one sentient being that moves together?"

Delphine rolled her eyes. "I've had sex before, Cosima."

Now it was Cosima's turn to roll her eyes. "I'm not talking about sex, Delphine. I'm talking about love. You know they can be two different things, right?"

"Love is… a hazard. I mean look at these two. Where did love get them?" She wasn't trying to be ornery. In truth, she'd never thought she would fall in love. She had focused on her schooling and then her career. She didn't have time for love.

"You are such a dick." Cosima smiled to take the bite out of it as she took a seat next to the blonde again. "Just keep reading."

I should not be writing these words. I should be packing, but there are so many thoughts in my head that I cannot function unless I release them.

She is mine and I am hers.

The words we spoke last night, the full moon our only light, they were far holier than any marriage could be. The joy in her eyes, as we promised ourselves to each other, I live to see that look every moment of every day.

She is mine and I am hers. In every way possible. She has claimed me in a way that only a husband might claim a wife, and I have claimed her. It was nothing like the old nags have prepared me for, but maybe the pain that they felt could only be attributed to the desecration of a man.

I can still feel her touch on my skin. I can feel her lips on my own and I know it will never be enough. She has reached into me and a woman emerged, a woman that is willing to fight to keep her love.

Tomorrow, when darkness arrives, we are to run away together. I don't know what we'll do, or how we'll survive, but I know in her arms is the safest place I can ever be and we will make it as long as we're together.

"See. How can you not feel that?"

Delphine didn't want to say anything. She had skimmed the next page, the last entry in the book and she knew what was coming. Instead, she just continued.

I never thought such words would spill from my hand, but there are many things I never thought would happen that have transpired.

She's gone.

I cannot explain the ache in my chest just seeing those words in ink. I look at the page before this, a page filled with such promise and a future that unbeknownst to me, was never possible. She is gone and I know my life will never be the same.

Deitric came over yesterday to speak with Father. I had not planned on ever seeing "my betrothed" again and he surprised me. I don't know what possessed me, but I told him I would not marry him. Perhaps it was that feeling of invincibility, thinking that I have touched heaven and nothing could reach me but the love of my Davin. I fear everything that has transpired since then has been at no fault but my own. I can still taste the bitterness of his forced kiss, his hands on me, pulling me against him. I was frozen, so surprised at his actions.

I hadn't seen Davin until she was running away, having seen nought but his lips on my own. I called to her, I wanted to chase her but Deitric's grip prevented me.

"You will be MY wife." He had screamed. The fire in his eyes, I could tell that he knew. I cannot imagine how, but he knew the truth of where my love lay. I would never be his. I can still feel the back of his hand against my cheek, the stones biting into my knees as I fell with fear in my heart. I wasn't afraid for myself, but for Davin because Deitric went after her. I would have stopped him but my father's sudden hold on me was too strong to break.

Something happened. I could feel it within me even before Deitric returned. I could feel the emptiness that had claimed me. The part of me that was Davin was already fading and I knew it would be that way forever.

Blood.

If I had any doubt of the outcome, those doubts were washed away with the splash of crimson on white linen. There had been blood on his shirt when Deitric returned to tell me that I would never have to worry about Davin coming between us again, that we are to marry tomorrow.

Well tomorrow will never come. Already it threatens to come as I write this. I heard the clock no more than a minute ago, threatening me that tomorrow would come in less than an hour. But even as I write this, I can feel the veil coming over my senses. The tea is taking it's course.

Are you waiting for me, Davin? Please be patient, my love. I will see you soon.

Delphine closed the book with a sigh, seeing tears in Cosima's eyes. She wanted to gather the woman into her arms, to wipe away the tear that suddenly escaped. "Are you alright?"

Cosima nodded, sniffling as she sat a little straighter, having begun to lean towards the blonde to see the words written on the pages. "I'm fine. That's just… that fucking sucks."

With a nod, Delphine pushed off the couch, moving to the table she had set up, monitors lit up. She needed to remember that this was a job. She couldn't let herself get emotional. She shouldn't get attached. She needed to keep this professional. The women in the story were long gone and nothing could help them. What was left was just the residual energy. "So… two separate entities. Not only do we have an angry murder victim with unrequited love, but now we also have a suicide with unrequited love." A suicide. Of course it would be a suicide. The skin on her arms itched, attempting to pull her back into the past once more. To the beginning. To the start of it all. Non. She shook her head as she took a few notes. If she looked at the situation with an unbiased eye, she could see how difficult this made her job.

Cosima's brows furrowed. She had no idea why Delphine was suddenly so cold. She had thought they might be closing the gap between them, getting closer over shared experiences. Instead it was as though the woman was pulling away, intentionally putting space between them. "Did… did that story not affect you at all?"

Delphine felt a pang in her chest, not from the story, but from the distress she could hear in Cosima's voice. "Of course it did. I just… I can't afford to lose focus."

"I really don't get you." Cosima pushed herself up, setting her glass beside Delphine before disappearing into the bathroom.

Delphine sighed, her eyes falling on the closed door. She didn't get it herself. Why was she acting this way? Too much of this was hitting home for her. Being in Ireland. The lovestruck women. Suicide. She needed to detach but she was just pissing Cosima off. Her mind was conflicted between trying to get farther and trying to get closer and she was fighting a ridiculous internal battle that neither side was winning.

"So what was it?"

Delphine looked up from the infrared display. She hadn't even heard the bathroom door open. "What do you mean?"

Sitting on the couch again and tucking her legs under her, Cosima seemed to have regained her positive disposition as she cradled her wineglass between her fingers, the crimson liquid sloshing around. "I mean… what could make a gorgeous quantum physicist like yourself turn to the paranormal? Not enough freakiness in cats stuck in boxes?"

Raising an eyebrow and the corner of her lips lifting in a smirk, Delphine picked up the glass of wine Cosima had poured for her earlier. Science. She could talk about science. "You know, Schrödinger's theory goes beyond just a simple cat trapped in a box with poison, and quite frankly if you look at the basis of the theory, it could easily be applied to the paranormal."

Cosima rose an eyebrow, a playful smile spreading across her face. "Explain."

Delphine turned to face the brunette, her attention piqued. "Well, essentially the concept is that the cat is neither dead or alive at the same time as being both dead and alive. Schrödinger essentially points out that there are multifaceted dimensions that exist in which all of the possible outcomes exist at the same time. All of these personifications of said cat continue to exist until proven false. The cat is both alive and dead until the box is opened and one is proven to be false."

"Ok." Cosima nodded, having heard a similar interpretation.

"Now let's look at a residual haunting." Delphine leaned a little closer. "So a residual haunting is the remaining emotions and energies of a person that has passed. However, the person is still alive in a different dimension. Still alive, still running the same actions while no longer able to. The person is existing in a state of being alive and dead at the same time, and will continue to do so until we can break through and prove they are not alive."

Cosima bit her bottom lip, contemplating the words. "Well… how do you convince a ghost they're no longer alive?"

Delphine gave her a wry look. "Well, that's always the problem. Every ghost is different and that's why I get paid… to find the way to do that." With a shrug, Delphine turned back to her monitor.

"Hmmm." Cosima hummed. There was a silence that came over the room, one that wasn't uncomfortable, but wasn't comfortable either.

"I had an incident the last time I was in Ireland."

Cosima looked up from her wine, her brows furrowing in confusion. "What?"

Delphine shrugged, her eyes still glued to the monitors. "You asked me what made me turn to the paranormal. When I was younger, still in college, I vacationed in Southern Ireland and I experienced an, at the time, unexplainable phenomenon."

Her interest instantly grabbed, Cosima moved to perch on the arm of the couch, allowing her to be near the blonde without invading her space. "What sort of phenomenon?"

"Well it started with some simple deja vu." Delphine pursed her lips, scrolling through some footage from when they had been out of the house. She wasn't sure how much she could say without seeming like a complete headcase. She wasn't even sure why she was revealing so much about herself. She never did that with clients.

"Deja vu? Like what?"

Delphine shrugged. "Just… I had a feeling I'd been a few places before when I'd never been to Ireland before. I guess you can say I chased the feelings to an old castle where the feelings adapted into… something else." She couldn't tell the whole story, the events that had kept her from returning to Ireland until now. The woman would never understand. "I later found out that there had been a major event in the main hall of the castle over a century ago. The ruler at the time murdered his soon-to-be wife upon finding she had a female lover." She shook her head. "Seems to be a lot of that going around, non?"

Cosima shook her head in amazement. "That totally sucks." She pursed her lips, having heard the hesitance in the blonde's explanation. There was something she wasn't saying. Something being held back. "You said the feelings adapted… into what?"

Delphine looked at her, nibbling on her bottom lip. The woman's expression was so open, willing her to share, but she couldn't. "That… is a story for another day, Cosima." She rose from the couch, filled with the need to put space between herself and the scientist. In the miniscule cottage, miles from town, there was only one place to escape. She attempted to smile as she excused herself, but it was an obvious production, one she hoped the naturally curious woman would leave be.

The bathroom door clicked behind Delphine as she took in her reflection. There were dark circles around her eyes and her hair had seen better days. How could she have been so close to revealing her biggest flaw? Even if Cosima was not ready for the truth, it still lingered on the edge of her own recollection, a sudden sorrow filling her that was more familiar than what the cottage had to offer. This was not a presence that lingered in her current domicile, but rather one that lived deep within her, rearing its hideous head at the most inopportune times.

"...this shall be the last kiss I bestow upon you tonight..."

The words were a whisper on the edge of her consciousness and Delphine lifted a towel, dabbing at the water from her pale skin. Memories that were not her own, yet remained with her no matter how she attempted to flush them from existence, memories that had only been possible since boarding school, years before she'd gone to college as she'd told the brunette. This was her burden to bare, self-inflicted and ever-present.

She would never be able to explain such a thing to the inquisitive brunette. The short woman had such a logic-driven sense of acceptance. There was no proof, no rational explanation, and no way she could prove the sensational claims that she herself had accepted long ago.

The woman would think she was completely off her rocker.

"Delphine? Are you alright?" Cosima's voice was soft and laden with concern as it came through the old door.

"Oui." As she hung the towel to dry, her eyes fell on the scars - the source of all her strife. So long ago she had caved in to the unbearable weight of youth. Unable to deal with the pressure of her parents', and if she were honest with herself, her own foolish need for perfection, she had just… broke, trading sensibility and reason for resignation as she had filled the bathtub with hot water. She had planned to end everything… to let the silence of nothingness claim her and end the emotion pain she suffered from daily. Instead, she had found forever… an eternity of lingering on the edge of life while still trapped in the cycle of depression and despair. She had found herself being tugged in all directions by an unknown force, watching as each drop of blood slipped from her body until the moment her roommate unexpectedly came home early and found her and called the paramedics.

Three minutes. That's how long they told her she had been dead. She was dead but she had been alive. Alive and dead until she was no longer dead.

In 180 seconds, she had experienced an eternity. Any longer and she would have never returned, would have never been plagued by mental ramblings that could quite possibly be delusions. In three minutes she lost her sense of self. She was nothing and everything. She was both darkness and light, life and death. She was no longer herself, but instead the accumulated memories of a limitless lifetimes cut short, all reaching for her, sinking into her as she danced with death.

And Death refused to free her.

She was Schrödinger and Schrödinger was her.

That was the secret she kept from Cosima. Death had clung to her since she was a teen, and once you saw death, you could no longer turn a blind eye. Since that day, she had noticed a change, the way things would seem familiar when they weren't. Streets she'd never been on yet memories of strolling down them. In sleep, she would see images of things she'd never seen, her mouth watering with tastes she had never before tasted.

Her own research had revealed similar cases of other near-death patients, had kept her informed on what she had to look forward to in her new life, but her parents and doctors had other plans. They had gathered to find the proper medications and Delphine had learned to silence her own curiosity. It allowed her to almost forget.

Ireland had been like a second catalyst. It was the first time she had lost control to a spirit. It was the first time where memories had consumed her waking hours and plagued her with vivid flashbacks of a life she did not live, leaving her in a constant state of deja vu. It had led her to a castle, far to the South, and when the tour had revealed a crumbling structure, she saw well-tended walls covered in colorful tapestries and tables covered with fine cloths and dishes. She could smell the rich foods and hear the merry sounds of the minstrels playing their meal-time melodies. It was as if she were living a life that were not her own, and suddenly it was as if she were dying a death that did not belong to her.

Standing in the center of the main dining hall, she could feel the rage and the sorrow, the fear and the acceptance of futility. She had never in her life felt so many emotions at once. She remembered the air leaving her lungs as she felt the knife that plunged into her heart, and the sweet feeling of relief as she was torn from the living.

It had been enough to make her lose her lunch, to drive her to the washroom where she barely made it to the trash in time to expel the langoustine she'd eaten for lunch. It had taken everything in her to rejoin the tour, and she never regretted it. When she listened to the words of the guide, telling the tale of a massacre that had happened over a century ago, things began to fall into place as they never had before. On one hand, the experience had been terrifying: the shock of love lost, the anger of betrayal, the surrender to the unavoidable. On the other hand, it was finally clear proof that she wasn't insane. She had long ago accepted the fact that she had been changed by her own hand, but she had never accepted that her delusions could have in fact been real.

That was the true reason she turned to the paranormal, to investigate a world that reached out to her on so many levels, and with every case, she continued to seek out proof that she wasn't insane, that there was a world beyond the living that still lived on. Finally, she was given new eyes to see the world through, eyes that didn't turn away at mysterious occurrences. Poltergeists. Hauntings. Possessions. Ghosts. She no longer automatically wrote any of it off as nonsense. Not when her own experiences. Not when she knew what it was like to be possessed with the spirit of the past.

Possession...

Delphine pursed her lips as a sudden thought came to her, one she knew the brunette was going to hate. One that she partially hated, but knew was their greatest chance.. With a nod, she turned and pulled the door open, finding the American still sitting on the arm of the couch, obviously waiting for her. "I know what we have to do."

Cosima rose an eyebrow, confusion coloring her features as her arms crossed over her chest. "Um… ok. What do we have to do?"

"We have to let the spirits possess our bodies."

The silence that followed the suggestion was almost palpable.

Delphine’s eyes follow the wooden beams across the ceiling - where they meet in the centre and pull away from each other at the walls. The wind sends soft ripples across the tent skin, disrupting the stillness as a stone would break a glass lake in the dead of a summer night. Cosima hovers beside her, head propped up against her hand and dreadlocks pattering back onto the pillow like raindrops. She sighs, fingertips tracing abstract patterns on Delphine’s arm - though it’s not a sigh of frustration, or of worry, or even of exhaustion - it’s a sigh that says I’m here. In this moment. Alive. “Hey,” she says, open palm sliding across Delphine’s chest to grasp the arm furthest from her. “Where’d you go?” Delphine blinks, eyes finding Cosima’s again. Having shifted onto her back, her body balances precariously between stability and an outright topple off the edge of the cot. Sensing this, the brunette’s grip on her arm tightens, a comforting warmth seeping through her skin. “I was just thinking…” Delphine says, interrupting the river of thoughts that had unexpectedly flooded her mind. “Yeah?” Cosima inquires, her thumb now rubbing circles on the blonde’s arm. Delphine’s hand finds its way to Cosima’s cheek, prompting a half-smirk from the brunette that sends the blonde’s chest suddenly fluttering with emotion. She had lost track of the days spent at Cosima’s bedside - lost track of the idea that anything could exist for her beyond Cosima’s bedside, beyond the steady loyalty in Cosima’s dark eyes that made blood and dying and bodies and even breathing - the action that flowed from a jubilant intake of air to a death rattle - seem secondary.

Out of focus, as if through a fogged window.

With an awkward shifting of limbs, Delphine rises again to a seated position, pushing herself to the head of the bed. After a moment of confusion, Cosima pushes herself upright as well despite Delphine’s swift protest. She plants herself in front of Delphine, legs crossed, forcing Delphine to tuck one leg toward herself and stretch the other out beside Cosima. Delphine reaches into the basket beside the bed, pulling a fleece blanket into her lap and looking pointedly at Cosima - Doctor’s orders. Cosima pulls the blanket over her shoulders, though a look of consternation has overtaken her previous carefree gaze. “What?” she prompts, hand gently hooking around Delphine’s calf. She squints in the semi-darkness, glasses out of reach. “I was just thinking…. so much of what I say is….” Delphine begins, struggling to articulate the rumination swirling through her mind, “... not what I mean.” Cosima is silent for a moment, before releasing a small giggle. “Like when you try to say ‘squirrel’?”

Delphine groans, trying to control the smile threatening to break through. “Non, Cosima,” she says with an impatient drawl, but she can see the brunette has already lost herself in that particular memory and has begun to turn red from suppressed laughter. Delphine allows herself to smile, only mildly embarrassed as Cosima’s peals of laughter finally break loose, and only mildly annoyed when her own giggles begin. When Cosima’s laughter finally settles, eliciting only a few short coughs - thankfully, she stares at Delphine and is silent again, a grin on her face as she places both hands on the bed between them. Leaning forward, she places a chaste kiss on Delphine’s lips, managing to stifle a new eruption of giggles as she pulls away. Delphine narrows her eyes, but reaches forward to pat gently at Cosima’s knee. “De toute façon… what I was trying to say is that I was reminded of another question.” Cosima captures Delphine’s hand underneath her own with a clap. “Share,” she says. Delphine sits up a little straighter. “Do you ever rehearse what you’re going to say before you call someone.” Cosima’s brow furrows. “Nah,” she starts, her free hand waving to emphasize her point. “Or like, maybe for a phone interview?” Delphine looks down at her fingers, wiggling them beneath Cosima’s palm. Soft flannel slides against Cosima’s knee. “Well that’s one scenario,” Delphine responds, pulling her hand away to twist and tug at the bed sheets. “Of many.” “Do you rehearse your phone conversations, Dr. Cormier?” Cosima asks, clasping her hands together in her lap. Delphine shrugs, nodding. “Isn’t life kind of too unpredictable to rehearse a conversation?” Cosima continues, a familiar note in her voice that tells Delphine the brunette is hoping things will tumble into the realm of theoretical discussion. But the blonde begins to fold inward under Cosima’s gaze, feeling shame bubble in her belly, travel through her ribs and spine and up and up into her head. Of course Cosima wouldn’t think to rehearse - to hide who she was. Why would she ever have to, Delphine thinks. She looks back up at the brunette, meeting her honesty with guarded anxiety. “I feel like people have always had an expectation of who I am. That I must… always match that. In some way. Or…” Delphine says, voice petering out. “I will be exposed. The, eugh… real me, as you say.” She swallows, doing her best to shake the pebbles of recollection from her head - to halt sounds that start to rush in from the caverns, to bury masks she’s worn for years. It’s like an incoming tide, the swirl and gurgle of it, the push and pull of it. “What’s wrong with the real you?” Cosima asks meekly, and Delphine starts, all sound stopping abruptly save the brunette’s ghost-like breaths and her own heart pumping in her ears. “She needs the rehearsed me,” Delphine says matter-of-factly, shrugging again. “To survive.” Cosima grabs both of Delphine’s hands, frowning. “I don’t like that,” she says, more to herself than to Delphine. She stares down at the blonde’s hands, clasped tightly in her own, brow furrowing further. “Do you rehearse all of your conversations?” Delphine hesitates. “Most.”

Cosima meets Delphine’s eyes again.

“What if they don’t go as planned?” What if they don’t even happen, Delphine thinks, sifting through the remnants of every call she never made to Cosima while in Frankfurt, and from her desk at Dyad, and from her sterile apartment, and from her chair in this very yurt where she stood shivering and breathless and trapped inside a cage of words she could never release. “They usually don’t. But it doesn’t matter, if I at least felt kind of prepared,” she manages to say, the same unsaid words lodging themselves in her throat. She clears it softly, the uncomfortable weight refusing to move. “Have you ever felt unprepared?” Cosima presses quietly.

Blinking, Cosima lifted her head. She felt the panic still, in moments such as these. It was like a television she heard playing low in some other room, or seeing the shadow of a body passing beneath the crack under their door. It was not urgent, but it waited for her. And when Delphine left, the panic smiled.

She heard the beating of her own heart, saw the phantom of a frosted breath fogging before her lips. The room was mostly dark, save for the flicker of the oil lamp on the desk. In the half light, she thought of other dark things, like the forest and clinging to the body of her past self, promising a safety that she had no claim to. She thought of Delphine's ribs fluttering beneath her fingertips, beneath the sheets, the off-white skin that knotted there, still puckered from a bullet's kiss.

But she heard music, too, playing faintly from across the room. An acoustic guitar. The crackle and pop of damaged vinyl. The secret hum she was probably not meant to hear. Reaching for her glasses, she was almost afraid to disturb the moment. She saw the body, wrapped in a quilt and hunched over the desk, blonde waves untamed, and despite her better judgment, the feeling that had returned to her over-warm limbs, she remained unconvinced that she wasn't still dreaming.

"Peut être, peut être, un de ces jours." Delphine's chin rested in her left hand, a pen clutched in her right. The ink flowed lazily across the page, her head ducked low and bobbing so slightly it could almost have been a trick of the light. It all looked, and felt, so calm.

But Cosima was not. And while she did not wish to startle Delphine, or burden her with her restlessness, the panic continued to smile in the other woman's absence. She cleared her throat slightly, rustling the sheets.

"J'espère, j'espère, depêche mon amour." Delphine's focus was sharp, however. Her hand moved steadily over the notepad on the desk, and through the muddling shadows draped over her face, Cosima could detect the faint movement of her lips, a subtle melody. She strained to hear.

"How to make you see, you were meant for me…" The blonde's voice was gentle, like the echo of something distant and ecstatic. It was like secondhand laughter, carried on a calm breeze. It made Cosima smile, too, in the face of a panic whose joy was vindictive and consuming. Her shoulders relaxed, and she allowed her head to fall back onto the pillow Delphine had abandoned. It smelled the way her voice sounded. It helped Cosima to breathe a little easier.

She closed her eyes, listening to her lover singing, and she wondered if, all this time, she'd had it wrong, backwards: if what she'd thought to be a dream had really, all along, been a living. Dreams were curious things, after all. She'd sometimes hear a song, or see a face in her dream, one she'd thought she had forgotten, or lost, a very long time ago. But maybe she hadn't really lost it at all. Maybe her brain just knew that things that are precious must be protected, sometimes even from one's self. And sometimes the only way to do so is to forget.

Except for in a dream, of course. Because nothing can ever truly die in a dream. (Everybody knows that.)

Cosima's eyes remained closed until the song ended, until the anxiety began to creep back in. And she worried about returning to herself, about precious things being destroyed. She remembered that she had almost allowed it to happen before, which meant that it could happen again.

She called Delphine's name, a whisper, and almost could not recognize her own voice.

The blonde startled anyway. "Cosima." She was already on her feet. "I woke you."

"No." She shook her head, propping herself up on her elbows. "I woke myself, I think. Couldn't sleep."

Delphine frowned, sitting at the edge of the bed. "Were you dreaming?"

Cosima paused. "No, I wasn't."

Idly, Delphine found her hand, brushed the tips of her fingers with her own. "You should be sleeping."

"You were singing."

"So, I did wake you." Delphine met her gaze, smiling.

"I've never heard you sing before."

Delphine chuckled. "That's for the best."

"I liked it," Cosima said, tugging gently on her shirt. "What was it?"

Smiling, not speaking, Delphine stood and padded quietly across the room. She returned a moment later with a record sleeve, handing it to Cosima.

"Pret a Porter."

"What does that mean?" Cosima asked, turning the sleeve over in her hands.

"Ready-to-wear. It is like… fashionable clothes for average people."

Cosima hummed, reading over the sleeve, not understanding the meaning of the words. "Like this fancy ensemble the Neos hooked you up with, right?"

Delphine rolled her eyes. "Their resources are very limited here."

Cosima shrugged. "I'm not complaining." Smirking, she reminded her. "I find the undergarments to be especially attractive."

Cheeks red, Delphine plucked the sleeve from her hand, mumbling, "Don't be a brat." She stood to replace the record to the small stack sitting in the crate against the far wall.

"So, resources are limited, but you have your own private record collection. How is that?"

Quiet, Delphine returned to her seat at the edge of bed, now toying with the duvet. "I was injured for a long time. For weeks, I barely left my bed. And when I finally did, I was afraid to leave my quarters." She glanced at Cosima sidelong, afraid to find some semblance of guilt or pity etched into her features. There was both, of course. But she wanted to continue. It had been a long time since she'd spoken to another person about things outside the scientific realm. Her own feelings, trapped inside for so long, had begun to feel too big, amorphous.

"They did cater to me, a little bit," she continued. "Because they wanted me to trust them. And they didn't want me to become too lethargic or… depressed, I suppose. They kept asking me if there was anything I needed, anything special—within limits, of course. And I refused their help for a long time." She paused, glancing down into her lap. "But it was lonely. So, I asked for things to keep me occupied. Books, music."

Delphine chuckled. "They brought me the Song of Ice and Fire series. Not exactly what I would have chosen, had they asked. But the books were long—meant to keep me occupied for a long time. I read all of them," she smiled at Cosima then, "and I thought of you."

"Does that mean you'll watch the show with me then? Without falling asleep?"

"Yes. I would like that." They were quiet for a moment, each watching the other's hands, clasping each other firmly. Neither could be sure if there would come a time for them when they could enjoy such leisurely pleasures again. But it was nice to pretend. "They brought me all French music. Which I thought was a little bit of a cliché." Cosima chuckled. Delphine sighed. "I hate to admit it, but it was a godsend." They both sobered.

"It helped me to focus. Calmed me. It always did actually."

Cosima wanted to apologize, right then. But she was afraid that, if she did, they would both crack.

Delphine must have known this too. She smiled shyly, almost forcibly, and said, "Would you believe it if I told you that when I was a child I wanted to be a singer?"

"Really?"

"Well… I also wanted to be a zookeeper. And a botanist." Cosima laughed. "Are you surprised?"

"I mean… yeah." Cosima sat up slightly, grinning wistfully. "I'm just trying to picture this: you—my brilliant zoo-keeping, botanist, popstar girlfriend—" Delphine laughed, too, cheeks pink. "But, like, tiny. Maybe with pigtails, or missing teeth or something." Suddenly, Cosima's brow furrowed, lips pursing.

"What?"

"I just—how do I not know what you looked like? When you were a kid?"

"Oh. I guess I never had a picture to show you." Delphine paused. "If it is any consolation, I only know what you looked like as a child because I've met Charlotte." Cosima hummed again, deep in thought. Delphine had almost forgotten how quickly her thoughts could consume her. She grasped the brunette's hand more firmly.

"Do you ever feel like—" Cosima began, quietly, but stopped herself.

"Like what?"

"Like—sorry—like there's just a lot we don't know about each other?"

Delphine looked away again. "Yeah. I guess I do." She met Cosima's gaze. "But that's okay."

"Is it?" She gesticulated abruptly, in an attempt to correct herself. "I mean, I'm really asking. Because, in hindsight, most of my relationships have probably been with monitors…" She licked her lips, feeling uncomfortable. "And that was all pretty textbook, you know. Like… clinical."

Feeling indignant—indignant for Cosima—Delphine's stomach twisted. She leaned forward suddenly to press a kiss to her girlfriend's forehead, allowing her lips to linger there. Her skin was blessedly cool.

"I didn't fall in love with you by reading some file, Cosima. It was just… you, as a person. And I don't think there's anything you could tell me now—any silly memory or strange thought—that would diminish that feeling." She leaned back, looking into Cosima's dark eyes. She looked scared still, in some way. She wanted to take it away. "So what if there is a lot we don't know? We'll have time to learn. We'll make the time."

Cosima swallowed thickly, nodding. "We will."

Delphine glanced across the room at the old clock sitting on her desk. It was late. Probably too late for this, if they had been normal people with normal lives. But the truth was, they were not. And they couldn't be, not really, until they knew the simple things.

"You know, when I was in my final year of schooling, I didn't get out very much. I certainly didn't make much time for relationships. I had a friend, Amy—she was a true romantic. And for some… very aggravating reason—" Delphine chuckled. "—she made it her mission to find me 'true love'."

Cosima smiled. "I can probably guess how that worked out."

"I bet you can. I had no interest, whatsoever. But she was very determined. Do you know what she thought was my problem?" Cosima shook her head. "Impossible standards." Delphine rolled her eyes.

"Wow. That's sort of flattering, for me."

"Yes, I guess it is." She smiled, rubbing her thumb over Cosima's knuckles. "She sent me an article once, about how you could fall in love with almost anyone, if you asked the right questions. And answered with total honesty."

"Is that so?" Cosima was skeptical. That's why Delphine loved her.

She shrugged. "I don't know how much I believe that. But they were good questions. And the theory was sound: that knowing every silly, secret… innocuous thing about a person could create a sense of intimacy, even with a total stranger."

"That makes sense, I suppose."

"It does. And you and I are not strangers, but… you are right. There is a lot we do not know about each other."

Cosima paused, sitting up. There was a glimmer of intrigue in her eyes. "So, you wanna play this game?"

Delphine nodded, glancing at the clock again. "We have the time, don't we?