Author's Note: Sooooo, I was prompted a while back by captaincophine to write a Cophine piece based on the St. Vincent song, "Landmines." I've been pretty irritated with this season, with the way Cophine and both of its individual units have been handled, so I decided to write my own take on the latter half of season three and I realized that the song fit perfectly, so this is me filling that prompt. This pieces takes place post-3x06, so disregard 3x07 and anything that comes after it for the sake of this fic, which will consist of a few chapters. I hope you all enjoy my attempt at repairing/redeeming Cophine (I'll admit, there will be some Shaysima, but have faith/patience, friends). As always, let me know what you think and shoutout to captaincophine for the great prompt :)
"You know, this is getting a little ridiculous."
The soft, flitting voice wafts through the room, traveling all the way from the bed to her ears. She smiles her usual, toothy grin, looking up from her bag and over to the blonde who is sprawled out in bed, sheets barely covering her lower half.
"What is?" she counters, her eyes unwittingly dropping to take in an eyeful.
Shay smirks, noticing the drop in the brunette's gaze. She arches her back slightly, breasts jutting out, playing into the seduction while Cosima giggles, trying to hide the blush that always creeps upon her face every time Shay's smile grows a little more devious and her eyes begin to gleam with mischief.
"You jumping back and forth like this," she clarifies, gesturing towards Cosima's bag. "From here to your place to work. It's a miracle you manage to get anywhere on time."
"I don't, actually," she remarks, shaking her head and laughing lightly.
She pulls the cardigan from her bag and slips it on for warmth. It's early, much earlier than she's used to getting up since her and Shay started dating, but she's needed at the lab and she figures that she's neglected her duties long enough. Scott's a patient guy, but even his patience is beginning to dwindle and he's one of the few allies she has left. She can't afford to lose him, too.
"You know," Shay begins, slinking out of her bed. "It'd be a lot easier if you moved in with me."
Before Cosima has time to question her, she feels a pair of arms slip around her waist, holding her from behind. She grins, closing her eyes and basking in the contact. Shay brings her lips to Cosima's ear, whispering throatily.
"You already spend all your time here anyway, when you're not slaving away in that super secret lab of yours."
It's true. It's not like she can really bring Shay around to Felix's place, especially now that Sarah and Helena are back. Not only is the concept of privacy non-existent with so many people constantly coming and going, but it's too risky. What if she sees Sarah? Or Helena? How will she explain that she's just one of many clones, wrapped up in some kind of government conspiracy?
"You want me to move in?"
Shay shrugs, pressing a kiss to her ear.
"Why not?"
She's breezing by Cosima, sauntering into the kitchen. She opens the fridge, fishing for ingredients to make some sort of concoction for the both of them. Cosima is always on the run but Shay is patient, Shay is caring. She makes sure the clone never leaves her home without breakfast or lunch or dinner. It's part of her nurturing nature. Cosima watches as she works, a mystified smile on her face. How did she get here? How did she manage to find someone like Shay to put up with her crazy life? This isn't what she asked for, it's not even what she wanted, but she somehow finds herself unable to separate herself from this tiny illusion, this fragile dream of normalcy that she's constructed for herself.
"No offense, but this place is kinda small for two people and I can take up a lot of room," she jokes. "You'd get sick of me before long."
Shay turns to face her, a coy expression on her face. The corners of her lips twitch, upturning into a smile as she comes closer and wraps her arms around Cosima's neck. She finds the brunette's lips, planting a feather-light kiss that's meant to tease, only to deepen the kiss a moment later with her tongue. Cosima groans, her hands finding the healer's hips and squeezing firmly.
"I'll never be sick of you," Shay husks, nipping at the clone's lower lip one last time before dipping back into the kitchen to complete her task.
"Think about it?" she calls out from behind her shoulder.
Cosima's left grinning like a lovesick teenager, tugging on the sleeve of her cardigan. She nods eagerly, her eyes dropping to her feet while she tries to compose herself.
"Yeah. Okay," she mutters.
It would be so easy. Hell, it would make so much sense. Shay's right, after all; she spends more time here than she does anywhere else. She used to seek refuge in her lab, but there are too many memories of sickness, too many memories of her. She can't look at that couch without drifting back to their love professions. She can't bring herself back to the science without being plagued by images of perfect curls, an airy French accent. The infestation is total, far too complete for her liking. This apartment is the only place she has now, the only walls that her ghost can't seem to permeate.
So why is she so hesitant?
She should be doing cartwheels through the lab. She should be jumping for joy, screaming at the top of her lungs and beaming like her own, private sun. All of these would be appropriate reactions, but instead she simply nods, her heart hammering in her chest.
"Cosima... this is... this is..."
Scott's just as lost as she is.
"Yeah. I know," she mumbles, her eyes fixed on the screen.
It doesn't make any sense, and yet, what part of this does? The numbers are great. Better than they've been in a long while and improving still. She doesn't know how or why, but she knows better then to question it in the moment. That's Scott's job. As much as she hates to admit it, that's her job.
"We'll obviously have to keep running tests," he tells her. "But... I mean... it looks like you're somehow beating this thing. Or putting up a fair fight at the very least."
She feels better than she has in a long time. Maybe it's the regular sex and the lighthearted nature of her new relationship, but she's had an easier time breathing since she came knocking on the door to Felix's loft to break things off. Her breathing's been easier, her smile's been lighter, and yet there's still a heaviness to her posture, an anchor in her chest that's been keeping her from truly floating away.
"I know this is a taboo subject, but you should probably-"
"I know."
Because she does.
She doesn't want to know, but it all comes back to that damn anchor. She begins printing the results onto a few sheets of people, watching as the printer marks the blank pages with ink, mesmerized by the action. This is her best form of revenge. Look at how well I'm doing without you. Look at how I'm flourishing. I don't need you at all. She can't bring herself to say it, but maybe these numbers will. Maybe then they'll both believe that they no longer truly need each other.
She gathers the results into a folder and exits the lab, heading for her office. Even though it's her's now, it still smells of Leekie, still bares Rachel's reflection in all of its smooth surfaces. Even though it's her's now, she can't bring herself to see her in it. She remembers skipping through those doors, laughing and teasing. She remembers rifling through that fridge, both trying their best to be stealthy and failing miserably.
It had all been so light then.
She had been so foolish.
She freezes when she reaches the door, spying an unmistakably male figure on the other side of the glass. Nealon is occupied with his laptop, but it only takes him a moment to notice her. He looks up from his work and gestures for her to enter. She does so with uncertain legs, losing whatever wind had carried her sails all the way up here.
"I'm glad you're here. There's something we need to discuss," he tells her.
He notices the file in her hand and she clutches it a little tighter to her chest.
"Are those your most recent numbers?"
She nods. He extends a hand, waiting for her to pass them his way. She silently refuses him.
"Where's Delphine?"
"That's... what I wanted to discuss."
He gestures for her to sit and she does so reluctantly, the anchor in her chest growing considerably in size, nearly burying her in the ground. As bitter as she is, she'll take her over this megalomaniac any day.
"Doctor Cormier is no longer with us," he says briskly.
She blinks, his words like a sharp, sobering slap to the face.
"What?"
"She'll no longer be working with you. With Leda, actually," he clarifies.
It doesn't make any sense. This job is Delphine's life. There's no way she'd just walk away from it. There's no way Topside would just let her. There must be more to the story. There must be another angle. She's not sure she's fully prepared to hear what it is, but she asks anyway.
"Why?" she presses. "What's going on?"
She doesn't mean to sound panicked, but it's an instinctual response.
"Don't fret," he smiles, unnerving her even more. "Doctor Cormier's been promoted. Topside's been quite impressed with her work. It seems she's needed elsewhere."
She's blinded by a rush of red, a silent fury that explodes inside of her chest, anchor be damned. Abandoned, yet again. Discarded. Unnecessary. Unwanted. Delphine has outgrown her like a childish habit, has outgrown their innocent days of eskimo kisses and eskimo pies. She has evolved into something more, all while Cosima was wasting away. Where is Delphine now? In some cushy office in Zurich, head of her own department? Pursuing her dream? Pursuing the science? Here she finds herself, trapped in the basement of DYAD, bound to a life of shadows and secrets. Perhaps that's why she's so angry; what future does she really have with Shay, with someone so removed from her chaos? Even with her improving health, what kind of future does she have, realistically? It will always come back to DYAD, always to the sisterhood. She tries to swallow her rage and hide her heartbreak. She doesn't need Doctor Nealon to know just how affected she is by Delphine's sudden absence.
She's survived without Delphine just fine. Her numbers prove it. She's her own person. She always has been.
And yet...
There's a part of the doctor that's seeped so deep inside of her, deeper than the growths or the buds of her tongue that twitch and taste metallic. There's a part of the doctor that she simply can't wash away, that's impervious to lavender baths in Victorian tubs, that's immune to the gentle scrubbing of patient hands. That's the part of herself she hates the most and yet, the part she clings to.
That night, she's anything but gentle.
Shay writhes beneath her, crying out in ecstasy that borders on pain, dragging her nails down the plains of Cosima's back as the brunette sinks her teeth into the porcelain skin of her neck. Her usually playful hands are forceful, her teasing fingers punishing. She thrusts into the quirky young healer without any preamble, determined to lose herself in the softness of her skin, the wetness of her desire. It's been so easy for her to do just that, but the harder she tries to focus on expelling Delphine from her mind, the more she catches a glimpse of her in each strand of blonde hair as she tugs at it, in each flutter of lashes as her fingers curl and reach just the right spot. It doesn't take long to reduce her lover into a moaning, quivering pile of limbs and she'd normally feel smug and satisfied at the thought, but bitterness is exhausting, scorn is all-consuming.
"What's got you all fired up?" Shay pants, wiping the sweat from her brow as she recovers from the throws of her orgasm. "Not that I'm complaining."
She nips at Cosima's lobe and the clone smiles, her chest rattling with laughter.
"Sorry," she apologizes, her eyes landing on the purple constellations that mark the smaller girl's neck. "Just... more work stuff."
She's tired of the excuse. She knows that Shay is, as well, but her lover never says anything. She just nods in understanding, pressing soft kisses to the hollow of Cosima's throat.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Not really."
She doesn't mean to be closed off, but it's not as if she can tell Shay what's really going on inside of her head. Or maybe she can. She's certain the blonde would listen with open ears and an open heart, but the truth is that she doesn't want to talk about it, to give weight to these feelings, to breathe them to life with words. They entangle themselves in each other and she absently strokes Shay's back, her fingers dancing along her spine.
"So," she starts, staring at the ceiling. "I was thinking about before."
Shay's nearly asleep, her eyes closed and head tucked beneath Cosima's chin as her breathing evens out, but Cosima's words bring her back to the world of the waking.
"Before?" she mumbles sleepily.
"About me moving in with you."
She shifts, lifting her head so she can meet Cosima's eyes with her own. She blinks away the sleep and smiles sheepishly. Cosima returns her smile with one of her own, brushing a few strands of hair out of Shay's eyes.
"I think... I'd like that," she whispers.
Shay's smile grows in diameter. She brings her lips to Cosima's, rewarding her with the softest of kisses.
"I'd like that, too."