Running. She hates it with a passion, preferring a lifestyle that revolves more so around a mellow, sedentary joint. Running. The physicality sucks, sure, but Cosima hates the lack of stability it offers. Running. She doesn't compete in races, no, this exercise requires the constant pestering, insufferable feeling of constantly being on the move and on her toes. She hardly smokes anymore, she rarely relaxes anymore, and she can barely believe that this "life" is worth it.
What's the point of searching for a cure when there are people who would much rather see you dead? What's the point of searching for a cure when, if by some miracle, one exists and upon being found and ingested, death would follow suit? It's not even the biology that would kill her… no, it's the hunters, the people who believe, no, "know" she has no soul to save. Either way, Cosima is dead. If not by her own biology, her own hand, then by the populous she so desperately craves to be accepted into. They'd shoot her with silver bullets, drown her in consecrated water, stake her in the chest, dismember her limb from limb and burn her tissues, leaving a body of brittled bones in their wake. So what's the point? she thinks. There's nothing better to do. It can't get any worse than this. I'm already dead.
It's time for her to move again– to run to another undisclosed location in the pursuit of a life she may never get the chance to greet. She sighs, glancing around her makeshift home, a cheap motel room housed above a rowdy pub with a chipped exterior and white, opaque windows marked from the wear of time. In all honesty, Cosima couldn't help but feel a semblance of home in this dainty space filled with a history she could only dream of unraveling. She owed Mrs. S an eternity of gratitude for finding her this temporary haven. Gratitude which could only be repaid upon completing her ill-fated mission.
"Don't thank me, chicken. It'll be me owing you once you discover the serum. We all believe in you, Cosima." Placing a lifeless hand on her shoulder, Siobhan flashed her a fangy smile and motioned her out the pub. "I'll distribute the phones to the rest of the gang. Be careful."
Cosima nodded, returning a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes before bouncing off the front steps and onto the cold cobblestone streets. The sun was at its apex point in the blue, cloudless sky, blaring a thin layer of warmth on Cosima's olive-toned skin. Hands found solace in the pockets of her coat, giving Cosima ample space to spin the rings on her concealed fingers.
Each band offered her a unique ability that allowed her to live at least a semblance of a normal life. She could walk in the sunlight and her flesh was able to retain its natural complexion– pale simply didn't work well on her.
Cosima was going to need all the help she could get considering the task ahead. Her friend, Scott secured her a position at the DYAD Institute in Paris, France. It was no secret that the facility acted as HQ for the prestigious family of vampire hunters, "Chasseurs Cormier de la Mort."
Her job, for all intents and purposes, was the equivalent of that of a kamikaze pilot. Cosima was surprised everyone kept acting like it was anything but. She was drowning in her own pessimism while all those she loved around her seemed to bask in the unlikely flicker of hope Cosima's serum could offer them– would offer them. If only she saw in herself what everyone else so blatantly admired in her.
A large body collided with the petite brunette suddenly, knocking Cosima out of her reverie.
"S-sorry, uhhh… my bad, dude," sputtered Cosima, trying to focus, in vain, on the man she clumsily collided into. It wasn't until then that she realized the man was clinging to her sides in a tight embrace. "Woah, dude.. um."
Her cheek rubbed against the lapel's of her prosecutor's coat, forcing the unmistakable odor of oily-pepperoni pizza, baby powder, and cat litter to corrode her previously surmounting sense of horror.
"Scott– Jesus fucking christ– you scared the shit out of me!" croaked Cosima with a wide, genuine grin plastering her face. "It's so fucking good to see you, man." Giving the boy another reassuring squeeze, Cosima pulled away to admire her friend. "I thought we were meeting at the train station, Scotty… You know Mrs. S isn't too fond of any us changing her plans."
Scott fidgeted under Cosima's gaze, regardless of the playful tint coating her words, he adjusted his glasses with a sweaty palm and nodded uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. "I just wanted to see you. Get you ready, uh.. for the trip. Like not the train ride, but like the trip…" Cosima narrowed her eyes, her mind finding disarray where understanding should have been. "…Like the craziness you're about to fling yourself into… like Harry Potter! Before he, before he found out he was an infamous baby wizard!"
Scott's voice boomed unceremoniously over the casual chatter of the busy cobblestone street, accumulating the unwelcome attention of more than a few bystanders. Cosima glanced around them, meeting the gaze of a short, blonde woman wearing a beige cardigan and frayed-jean shorts unexpectedly. The blue-eyed bombshell gave Cosima a wink before disappearing into a nearby cafe bustling with men and women in sharp, black corporate attire. What is my life and whyyyyy the fuck did she go in there?
"Cos.." attention snapping back to the boy beside her, the brunette gave a weak smile in acknowledgement before grabbing his arm and unknowingly-not-so-gently dragging him to the station down the street.
As Scott unceremoniously trailed in his friend's wake, he couldn't help his libido from taking in the small woman in front of him. As she dredged through the thickening crowd of commuters, bumping shoulders with an unwary few, Cosima carried herself with upmost poise and determination. When Scott wasn't busy attempting to look at anything other than her deliciously sashaying hips, he would occasionally take note of the petite woman's tongue poking from between her bleach-white teeth and furrowed brows, angled flawlessly above her black, impeccably-applied, wing-tipped eyeliner.
The duo found a secluded spot within the chaotic confines of the train station and took a seat, glancing around them to be sure they weren't followed.
Cosima eyed the boy beside her warily, lifting her right brow in interest. "So…. what is this trip I should be getting ready for exactly? Like, is there something I should know that I don't already know that you so obviously decided to go with Mrs. S and keep from me because you know I wouldn't have agreed to this little gig you all have dug me into?"
Scott stared back at her coolly, failing miserably at paying sufficient attention to the longwinded question he was prompted. "Do you need to breathe when you talk or are vampires just, like, gifted at going on for long periods of time without breathing?"
"Fuck me," she sighed, unamused.
Gladly.
"Scott, tell me what I don't know. Seriously. I'm not in the mood for this bullshit."
The boy looked down at his palms sadly, exhaling softly. "I'm not coming with you to France, Cos." He met her eyes solemnly, hoping he could somehow share the next bit of information without spurring on an impromptu killing spree (not that Cosima would follow through with the macabre task, it was more Helena's style anyway). "There's a contact in Paris you'll be cohorting with named Danielle Fournier. She's a bartender at a pub a few blocks from DYAD."
Cosima nodded, acknowledging her predicament with warm, open arms. "That's not bad, Scott… I mean, you were a being a little overdramatic there, don't 'cha think?" She patted him on the shoulder playfully and grinned as her tongue poked between her teeth once more. "I mean, I'm totally bummed we won't be thuggin' it together and all, but assuming you'll be back in Minnesota, it'll be easier to cover ground faster without arousing too much suspicion–"
"That's not what I'm trying to tell you, Cosima."
"Then WHAT?" she hissed, eyes widening under the unnecessarily played out bout of news Scott was hitting her with. "What the fuck has you so spooked? You know i'm not the aggressive type; i'm not about to shoot the messenger– EVEN though he's really starting to push my buttons… I'd sooner have my Hermes fired than chewed out by a fellow blood-sucker." The slur caught in her tongue unforgivingly. It never got easier admitting who she had become–WHAT she had turned into.
Scott shook his head, choosing to ignore the semi-self-depreciating comment that slipped from his best friend's lips. "There's just another part to your assignment."
Cosima nodded, egging Scott to continue with a circular hand motion.
"You're going to be working with Dr. Cormier– the daughter, not the higher ups… She's working on a vaccine, as you know, to prevent vampires from effectively consuming human hosts' blood.
"So you have to watch out for her, maybe befriend her? –Keep her off your back, yeah? And work on finding a serum for LEDA, to cure yourselves– preferably before DYAD starts doing field trials and, more importantly, realizes that there's a black sheep among their flock."
"Oh, Shit." Scott nodded, choosing to look anywhere but at Cosima as she did the same.
"Did I tell you, Scotty, that I already thought this plan was suicidal? Because now it's just, just, just pathetically detrimental to my metaphysical well-being– as if it wasn't enough already."
Less than a beat later, Cosima found herself wrapped up in another Scott-burrito. She didn't have the energy to cry, refusing to believe that this may be the last time she saw her dear friend.
"You have to go, Cos. The train will be leaving in 3-minutes… don't give up so easily though, okay? You're the strongest, smartest, most self-less person I know, AND, mon amie, I know you'll be successful."
The pair stood up awkwardly, maintaining their embrace before Scott reluctantly pulled away. The dreadlocked woman couldn't contain the warmth that spread through her cosmetically-tanned cheeks upon noticing the sincerity radiating from her friend's words.
Using her thumb to wipe away a stray tear, Cosima found herself drowning in a fit of laughter.
"Wait, what? What's so funny?" babbled the boy, confused at a joke that obviously flew right over his head.
"You wasted all that time on Rossetta Stone for nothing, 'mon amie,'" Cosima rebutted without missing a beat. "And on a more serious note, who the hell am I going to rely on for understanding the local lingo?" Scott cracked a small smile at his friend's blatant obliviousness.
"Well, 1– you knew about France before I did. 2– I bought you your own Rossetta; and 3– Mademoiselle Cormier will be your best bet for a safety net, my dear Geek Monkey."
All the humor melted away from the moment within the blink of an eye.
I'll be rubbing elbows with Dr. Cormier, the daughter of the elite fuckin' vampire hunter, Marc Cormier, at the lab all day? Fuck me. Fuck. Shit. Holy fucking goddamn piece of shit, I fucking hate my life. Better yet, I'll just let all the other bitches at LEDA entertain the idea that she isn't smart enough to sniff me out from the get-go. FUCK.
"Yeah, i'll be sure to ask her to translate 'mercy' before she stakes me in the chest," Cosima spat crudely before huffing, puffing, and shuffling away like a rabid puppy.
As guilt swiftly sank and settled within the pit of Scott's stomach, the word 'miséricorde' repeated like a broken record in his mind.