Frankfurt. She'd found the word long ago, before she left DYAD to fight by Sarah's side, before she was fully cured, before their little clan had found freedom in the toppling of Topside. She'd done enough hacking and ass kissing and sneaking to dig it up, typed neatly in an email from Rachel Duncan. Doctor Cormier is to be reassigned to the facility in Frankfurt. Germany's fifth largest city and second largest metropolitan area. Cosima had done all the research. She had read tour books, wikipedia articles, and travel blogs. It made her feel as if she knew something, even though she knew it was a lie. She could know everything about the city itself, every event that occurred in its history, what it was known for, what its restaurants tasted like, yet she still would not know anything.

It had been five long years since they'd seen each other; the last time, Delphine had sobbed on her hospital bed, admitting her errors, begging Cosima for forgiveness that was given freely yet barely accepted. She'd proven herself loyal to their merry band of misfit clones, and had suffered for it. Transferred. Gone without even being able to say goodbye. She had never really left Cosima, though, coming to her in dreams and weed-facilitated imaginings. In them, she held Cosima's hands, leading her through buildings: old mansions haunted with the ghosts of science's victims. Sometimes in these dreams she would turn, fingers lingering along Cosima's cheeks, ghosting across her lips. Sometimes she would kiss her and Cosima would wake, already cracked in half, spouting tears, her sobs echoing hollow in her room.

But now she was in Frankfurt, standing in the same spot she had for four days, spending all day there, just in case. She had seen someone the week before, someone with familiar blonde hair and an elegant, uniquely French way of holding herself. She'd shouted her name, called "Delphine!" loudly into the crowd but the person had not turned. Simply stiffened, ended her conversation and taken off briskly in the other direction.

She thought perhaps she should give up. Eight days of sitting in one spot almost all day was exhausting, and she had so much more of this city to discover. She'd bought a one-way ticket to leave her options open, but she knew from skyping with her clone family how much she was missed.

"Cos, how long are you gonna hold onto this?" Sarah had asked the night before, running a hand through her hair, voice tinged with wariness. "She was sent there five years ago. She's probably long gone. We need you here."

"I know." She leaned forward, crossing her arms over one another on the table. "I know. I just have to do this. I have to know."

"You know I support you." It was a firm statement. "But Kira won't stop asking me to do science experiments with her. I can only mix baking soda and vinegar so many times before she figures out I know bollocks about science."

Cosima laughed, missing the feeling of home Toronto brought with an aching intensity. "I'll email you some ideas, I won't be gone much longer."

"I just don't want you to torture yourself over this."

"You're about six years too late."

She was torturing herself, she knew. It was obvious as she sat in the same coffee shop she'd camped out at four days ago, laptop in front of her but unopened in her vigilance; her undying paranoia that if she looked down for just a second she might miss her. Then there it was across the street, the familiar head of hair and stylish elegance. She straightened up, feeling like a prairie dog detecting a predator, and before she knew it, she'd hopped from her chair, tucked her laptop under her arm and was running. It had been so long since she'd truly run—a convenience she'd never before considered as such. The terror of this person slipping by her pounded in her chest, forcing her legs even faster, building energy in her body that had her bursting through the crowded street and sidewalk.

"Delphine! Wait!" She called and the person slowed, taking a short glance over their shoulder before picking up their pace. "Delphine!" She caught them, grabbing them by the shoulder and turning her, finding a face that was entirely unfamiliar.

"Oh." She took a step back, mouth hanging open. "Oh. I'm sorry—Entschuldigung." She held up her hand in apology. "I was mistaken." The woman in front of her nodded and turned wordlessly, continuing her errand seamlessly. "Shit."

It was another few days before she got a break; she was looking at flights back to Canada when the call sound for skype began its smooth, melodic chirping. It was Scott. Not feeling particularly in the mood for chatting, she rejected the call. He tried again, and she rejected it again.

Cosima. A message came through the text box at the bottom of the window. It's important.

She sighed, clicking the green call icon, plastering on an impatient smile when Scott answered almost immediately.

"I found something." He looked so pleased, lips skewed in the smirk he got when he felt useful. "About Delphine."

"What?" Cosima leaned forward. "How did you even know I was looking for her?"

"Sarah asked if I could help." He shrugged a shoulder. "You know I've been going through DYAD's old servers and databases for information.

She nodded. "Yeah. Of course."

"Cosima," He raised a hand, grabbing a printout from next to him and holding it up to the screen, "she's in the records."

"Whoa. Like, they didn't even try to hide her?" It didn't seem like it should be that easy.

"Nope. I guess they thought the distance would be enough. It even has an address for her, according to their records they'd been maintaining a residence for her while she worked for them. There's a ton of info here, phone calls and internet histories. They were making sure she didn't contact you, I think."

Cosima shifted in the chair so that one hip was almost off the edge. "Wait, so does she still live there?" There was a strange electricity to these moments, when the puzzle pieces clicked into place. It almost made her miss the insanity of her life the past few years. The thought made her feel sick.

"That's what I can't tell. Last record of her is at that apartment. I called the property management company, but they wouldn't talk to me."

"Thank you, Scott." Cosima breathed, a smile settling comfortably onto her lips. "What was the address again?"

He held up a piece of paper and she took a screenshot, making a note to write it onto paper later. They said their goodbyes and Cosima searched the address. It wasn't nearby, but by car it shouldn't take too long. She settled for bed, but barely slept at all.

She should have been tired, getting up at eight and heading to the free breakfast buffet. She should have been afraid, as she showered and dressed. She should have trembled, as she dialed the front desk and asked them to call her a taxi. But all she could feel was anxiety pulsing into excitement, starting deep in her stomach and fizzling on the nerve endings in her skin, an electricity she couldn't ground. When she stepped from the taxi, letting the driver leave without even thinking to ask him to stay, it became unbearable. The not knowing and the wishing crashing against each other in her mind, creating cacophony between her ears and behind her eyes.

A young man in a silky, tailored suit opened the door and Cosima stuck her foot in between it and the frame, waiting for him to disappear into the elevator before she pulled it back open and headed in. There was really no reason to be cautious. Things weren't over entirely but it was enough that danger didn't hide in trees and stairwells, waiting to catch her off guard anymore. Still, the fear and the habits stuck to her skin like tattoos. The apartment was on the top floor of the ten story building, and as the elevator rose, so did her anxiety. It opened with a high-pitched bell, announcing their arrival with an inappropriate ease that set Cosima even more on edge.

She paused outside the door, hearing no sounds, seeing nothing but natural light from underneath the door. Neither of these things mattered. Maybe she was sleeping, or reading. It was a perfectly sunny day, she had no need to turn on any artificial light. Still, Cosima found herself using these things to talk herself out of it; to tell herself to turn around, to go home, that this had all been a stupid idea. She thought of herself, ill, dancing in Felix's loft to reggae with her clones. She thought of how tired she'd been, barely able to stand most of the time without relying on her cane but still dancing, completely unaided, twisting shapes into the air with her hands, laughing at Helena's head banging and Sarah's awkward half-moshing. She knew this heaviness in her limbs now was nothing, compared to her will to push through then. She knew she was so capable of doing this, and she knew she was suddenly petrified of what she'd find on the other side of the door.

She forced herself to knock. Nothing happened. Only silence, deafening and piercing. She knocked again and she heard a small shuffle near the door, an inarticulate mumble. A couple of stumbling steps, a smack against the door and it opened.

She looked different. So different, it made Cosima's heart ache, made her wonder what else had changed. The longing for a different outcome, a life where they could have been PhD students in love, roaming the streets of Minnesota drunk off wine and one another's lips, overtook her in a sob, and she touched her fingertips to her lips.

"Cosima." Delphine breathed, shaking her head. "I—I thought you were dead."