Author's Note: I wrote this for a friend's birthday. I don't usually write Cophine, so this was an adventure. Happy Birthday, Britt! Hopefully you like it. If you don't, let me know and I'll write you something else.
To believe the natural order of the universe is ruled by chaos is, in Cosima's opinion, a foolish way of thinking. No matter how chaotic things may appear, there is always some semblance of order. Those who claim that nature is chaos fail to realize that every event has a cause and every creature has a space to fill. That is where Cosima finds the overwhelming beauty in both nature and mankind: The governing patterns and laws that help her make sense of the world.
Patterns in language, for example, that help Cosima understand French syntax, so when Delphine whispers, "Je t'aime," against her neck and kisses the meaning into her skin, she knows exactly how to say it back. The bittersweet memory of lessons in Delphine's mother tongue brings forth a tired smile to Cosima's lips and an ache in her chest; one that has nothing to do with the disease destroying her lungs.
She has been free from the DYAD institute for two weeks now. Two weeks, and no word from the woman who has become such an integral part of Cosima's life in the last month.
After spending so much time with each other in the lab—sometimes for research, sometimes for less academic reasons—Delphine's absence has disrupted Cosima's natural order. There's a cog missing that her sisters can't fill despite their best efforts. As a result, her world feels off kilter, akin to the feeling one gets when all the furniture in their home has been shifted an inch out of place. She tries to ease the discomfort by immersing herself in Ethan Duncan's notes and searching for the connections between his scribbles and her genetics. When she can't do that—when she's too tired to even lift her head because she's been coughing instead of sleeping and her body is exhausted from fighting—she lays in Felix's bed, closes her eyes, and lets her mind wander.
It always finds its way back to Delphine.
Usually, she reflects on the pleasant memories they created. On bad days, however, her mind drifts to patterns and Delphine's behavior: The lying, the hiding, and the half-truths.
On her worst days, when her chest is tight and her eyelids too heavy to keep them open long, she wonders if she'll ever see Delphine again. If she ever cared, or if she had just been another experiment to the French woman.
Thankfully, today is not a bad day.
Today, the ache in her chest is bearable for the first time in ages and her eyes are clear. She can focus on the chemical equations Ethan scribbled in his novel. She can almost forget about the tubes shoved up her nose as she makes scribbles of her own in a notebook Kira gave her two weeks ago. Today, she hasn't coughed once. Alison points this fact out as she brings her a bowl of the soup Donnie had delivered. Cosima smiles her thanks as she takes the bowl from Alison's perfectly manicured hands.
"Scott's been working with my notes," she says before swallowing a spoonful of the chicken flavored broth. After two weeks of living off soup, it isn't very satisfying and she longs for the day when she can eat something heavier without it coming back up. "He dropped his latest concoction off last night with Felix."
"And that's… safe?" Alison asks as she sits on the side of the bed, careful of Cosima's notes.
She shrugs. "Probably not, but it's better than sitting around and waiting to croak."
"Cosima!"
She likes getting a rise out of the high-strung woman. Out of all her sisters—she refuses to think of them as clones—Alison is the easiest to mess with. If Sarah were with them, she most likely would have punched her arm and cracked a joke.
A pattern of behavior.
But Sarah isn't here. She hasn't been for the last week and a half. After an argument with Siobhan, she left with Art to track down their other sister: Helena, the wounded angel who had been put in chains and shipped away; the one who had endangered Sarah's life so many times, only to seemingly wake from the dead and save her. So far, Sarah has called every day to check on Cosima and fill her in on the progress she's making, which is more than Cosima can say for Delphine. She knows she shouldn't think that way, but two weeks without a word from the woman she loves has caused feelings of doubt and anger.
A law of human nature.
"I can't imagine that Rachel is happy with Scott's experiments."
Alison's voice tugs her away from the negative thoughts swirling in her head and pulls her back to the conversation at hand.
"What she doesn't know won't hurt her."
"Well, I think you're both being far too reckless about this," Alison says. "From the way you and Sarah tell it, Rachel doesn't seem to be someone you should cross."
"Big words coming from the one who assaulted her husband then ended up in rehab," Cosima says with a laugh, which elicits a huff from the other woman. Maybe the rehab remark had been a low blow. She reaches out and places her hand on Alison's shoulder. "It'll be fine, Alison. I'll be fine."
"Oh no, Cosima. Please, keep making jokes. Just don't come crying to me when Rachel swoops down here and ships you right back to DYAD," she says in a tight voice that means Cosima has taken thing too far. Sometimes pushing Alison's buttons is a little too easy. Sometimes Cosima wonders if her sensitivity has anything to do with what happened to Beth.
They spend the rest of their dinner in silence.
Cosima only finishes half of the chicken noodle soup before the urge to decipher Ethan's notes strikes her again. She places the bowl on the mattress since she can't reach the nightstand. Alison picks it up before it can get spilled and carries it down to the kitchen in the lower level of the apartment. The sound of rushing water reaches Cosima's ears, followed by the clang of silverware striking steel. In the midst of the noise from the kitchen, she catches the sound of someone knocking at the door.
The water cuts off.
The knock returns.
Cosima looks up from the scribbles in the pages of The Island of Doctor Moreau and watches as Alison cautiously approaches the large, green door.
"Who's there?"
Cosima can't hear the response, but whoever it is, Alison trusts enough to push the rusty door aside. It doesn't take long for her to recognize the tall blonde standing in the doorway. It does, however, take her a moment to figure out whether she's dreaming, hallucinating, or actually awake. It wouldn't be the first time she imagined Delphine had shown up to see her one last time, but that usually happens on her bad days. It would be the first time a figment of her imagination used the front door.
"You're taller than I thought you would be," Alison says.
She steps aside so Delphine can come in, but Cosima is still wary. It's still plausible that she's fallen asleep. She won't believe it's real until she can physically touch the woman she has missed so much. Ignoring the shaking in her hands, she pushes herself off the bed and carefully takes the steps downstairs, her bulky oxygen tank clutched in one hand. As she approaches the pair of women and sets down her oxygen tank, the taller woman's gaze meets hers.
The first clue that this is real is the way the tension leaves Delphine's body, her narrow shoulders visibly drooping. The next clue is the exhaustion evident in the other woman's face. Dark bags loom beneath her eyes, a look that Cosima is not familiar with. Even when things had seemed grim in the lab, Delphine always had a fire in her eyes that spoke of her determination to get Cosima well again.
Wherever the French woman has been, it hasn't been easy on her.
"Cosima," Delphine says in a voice laced with relief and adoration. She takes Cosima's hands in her own, gently—as if she's afraid of hurting her—and says, "You are still here."
"If by here you mean 'alive,' then yeah, I'm still hanging around," Cosima says with a smile. "It's nice to know you're okay, too."
The words mean so much more and they both know it.
"Rachel, she sent me to Frankfurt. She did not want me near you any longer," Delphine explains. She bites her lip before adding, "Frankfurt is a very dangerous place for people that Rachel does not like. I don't think I will be returning any time soon."
"Good because I suck at long distance relationships," Cosima says. "They make it hard to do this."
She leans forwards and captures Delphine's lips in a kiss, reveling in the contact she has longed for the last few weeks. Familiar hands cradle her face, trying to bring her closer. When they pull apart, both are smiling and Alison's face is a deep shade of red. She excuses herself and lets the two women enjoy their reunion in peace.
"I'm glad you are okay, mon chiot," Delphine says as she strokes Cosima's cheek with the back of her hand.
"I'm not the one who had to survive Frankfurt," Cosima replies. She steps closer so she can wrap her arms around Delphine's waist and rest her cheek on the taller woman's chest. "I'm glad you're safe," she says in a quiet voice. "And I'm glad you came back."
"I could not stay away even if I wanted," Delphine says before she places a kiss on Cosima's forehead. "Je t'aime."
Despite the odds, Delphine would always find her way back to Cosima.
A pattern of behavior.
An unbreakable law of nature.
Translations:
Je t'aime: I love you
Mon chiot: My puppy