A/N: I'm really sorry about this one. And that's because I don't usually write in present tense, ever, at all, so if it reads a little choppily, that's why. But this fic needed to be in present tense because reasons. Warning for suicide. Read at your own risk, 'cause this one might hurt.
Would you cry?
She was late for everything. Late for dates, for movies, for flights. And it wasn't because she tried to be late, she just was. Something or another would come up last minute and would delay her. A car that wouldn't start, a crowded street. A missed call.
If I jumped, would you cry?
The reason for today's lateness is an indecisive mind and way too many outfit options available to her in her closet. "What hasn't she seen yet?" Cosima mutters to herself, tossing another set of clothing onto her bed on top of the sixteen other outfits that have already been strewn all over her bedsheets. "What do I look hot in?" she asks, holding up yet another outfit up to herself, gazing critically in the mirror. "And.. the most important question... what's easy to get out of?"
A phone call interrupts her examination of herself. "Shit," she swears under her breath, hastily dropping the outfit onto the back of a chair before scampering across the room and picking up the phone. "Hello?"
"Where are you, ma chérie?" Delphine's voice comes through her ear, causing her to take a moment in her frantic scramble of getting ready to just listen.
"Kinda always late-" she begins, a smile curving her lips upwards.
"So, kind of always sorry," Delphine finishes with a low French laugh. "Are you coming soon, chérie?"
"I hope to be, tonight," Cosima replies, her voice low with desire.
"You are cheeky," she replies.
"But that's why you like me," Cosima grins, crossing back over to the mirror to study her reflection.
"Don't keep me waiting long."
"You don't need to worry about that," Cosima replies with enough sass to be recognized over the phone.
"Hurry," she whispers, then hangs up.
Cosima takes a moment to get her feet underneath her before picking up the outfit that she left on the back of the chair and wiggles into it, grinning like an idiot. Smoothing down the material over her curves, she turns sideways and nods at the way it hugs her form before hurrying over to the front entrance to slip on a pair of heels.
She has just opened the door when her phone rang again. "It can wait,"she says dismissively, "They can leave a message. I've got a date to go to." But by the time Cosima would return from her date, stumbling through the door on aching heels, it would be too late. One missed call too late.
She listens to the message some hours after she returned home from her date with Delphine, which wasn't until the next day.
"Cosima?" The voice on the other end is strangled, fear obvious in every word that comes across the line. It takes a moment before Cosima can identify the speaker as Sarah. "Hello? Oh god... I wish you'd pick up! Please... I need... god, Cosima. I want to know if you'd cry. Would you cry, Cos? If I jumped, right now, would you cry for me?" A pause. Breath. Then static. Wind, perhaps? "I think about it all the time Cos. About what's keeping me here. They stole Kira away from me and... god, they murdered Fee in cold blood!" Muffled sobs now. A larger gust of wind. A faint blare of a car horn. She was outside? A bridge? "I keep coming back to you, Cosima. That's it. Alison's gone off the deep end and I have no one left but you. Cosima? Cosima please pick up! I have to know if you'd cry, if you'd really care enough to cry! I need to know, Cos, I need..." Another pause. Another ragged breath. "I need you. Please, please answer me! Please!" Indistinguishable sounds flood the message now. Most of them are the same repeated plea of 'please'. Others are just gut-wrenching wails.
Eventually the noises halt and, for awhile, the line is silent. It is silent for so long except for the rush of wind that Cosima fears the worst before remembering that this is a recording and that the worst may have already happened. May have happened hours ago. And she'd just be finding out now.
But then Sarah's voice sounds again and it's almost a relief. Almost. "You're not here. You're not, are you?" A strange, animalistic noise. "You promised you'd always be here! After they took Kira and shot Felix... you promised! You're a bloody bitch and you promised!" A dull thud of skin and bone, a ring of metal. A sharp inhale. "Well I promised not to do anything stupid while we looked for Kira. Seems like today we're both gonna break our promises." A rustle. Perhaps the phone's been set down? Sarah's voice comes again, much further away now. "Take care of her if you find her."
A squeak of rubber on metal.
Wind.
Static.
A small, faint splash.
Static.
Silence.
Car horns. Horrified shouts.
"Ambulance! We need an ambulance!"
"Call 9-1-1! Someone, anyone! Someone get her!"
"The current-! It's too strong!"
Sirens. Tires squealing. Doors popping open. Loud, heavy and harried bootsteps.
"Outta the way! Stay clear everyone!"
"Set up a perimeter! Keep everyone back!"
More sirens.
"What's...? Jumper left a phone! It's connected!" The voice comes across clear and strong, the background noise fading. "Hello? Is anyone on this end? Hello?"
The shouting and wailing sirens return, the voice quieter. "Get this phone to the evidence lab. Now!"
"Yes sir!"
Rustling. Shouted commands. Another final wail-
Then... nothing.
Oh god... Sarah... "God... what have I done?" she whispers, mortified, pressing a hand to her mouth. "Sarah... dear god..."
In her dream, she sees a woman standing on the edge of absolute abyss. Sarah, she realizes, striding forward, determined to stop her. It is illogical, she knows, to try and change reality while in the dream world, but her guilt and heartache and pain wouldn't let her stop herself from trying anyway. "Sarah, don't, I'm-!"
She turns then, agonizingly slowly, her face a blank mask of indifference. "You're what? Sorry?" she asks harshly, her body unnaturally pale. "It's a little late for that."
"Sarah... please," she whispers, her eyes shining with tears that didn't fall. Wouldn't fall.
"If I jumped, would you cry?" she says as she puts her arms out, as if to embrace death. Cosima takes another step towards her, opening her mouth to call out a warning. But the words never make it to her lips as she stands frozen, watching as Sarah tilts backwards into darkness.
"Sarah, no-!" she screams then, loud enough to jerk her whole body back into reality. A reality of soft bed sheets, dark shapes and no Sarah. Ignoring Delphine's low voice calling out in concern, Cosima pitches towards the bathroom. She's barely aware of Delphine pulling back her dreads as she wretches into the toilet bowl, tears burning at the back of her eyes as bile drops from her trembling lips. But she still can't cry.
She clutches the rim of the toilet bowl with white knuckles, a final wretch heaving through her frame. Eventually she spits once, then looks up slowly at Delphine, who is right there with a wet wash cloth to wipe at her lips. "You're okay, cherie," she whispers as she dabs with the cloth.
"Delphine," she whispers, resting her forehead against her collarbone as they kneel there on the floor. "What's wrong with me?"
She realizes that she can cry about other things. Once, she went to some cheesy stupid chick flick with Delphine just to see if it would distract her. And it did, to some degree. She had bawled like a baby near the end of the film, so loudly that security had to come and request that she quiet down or be kicked out. But when sleep rolled around once again, with Delphine breathing evenly by her side, the nightmares would haunt her once again, leaving her to gasp herself awake, the taste of bile coating her tongue.
Would you cry?
Yes, Cosima had thought upon waking up from another string of nightmares one night, But apparently not for you. And that thought haunted her. Still haunts her.
When they found Kira, some months later, Cosima can't bring herself to really explain to the little girl why her mum wasn't the first person she hugged after being freed from the DYAD Institute.
Would you cry, Cos?
She can't bring herself to explain anything anymore. She can't even explain to herself why or how the months between first hearing the message and rescuing Kira had passed. They were all a hazy, gray blur with nothing but Sarah's pleadings and accusations piercing her consciousness.
You promised! You're a bloody bitch and you promised!
So she leaves the talking to Delphine. She allows this strange, tall woman tell a teary-eyed little girl why her mother wasn't there to save her. It was because no one was there to save her mother. "Your mother was a brave woman. A very brave woman, ma petite chérie. She meant a lot to us." Not enough, apparently, Cosima thinks, turning away as she fights against the sadness that pulls at her insides. She doesn't cry, not this time or the time before. She hasn't cried since she first listened to that message. And still, even now, she finds that she just can't cry.
"When you get older, you will understand that what your mother did was to protect us," Delphine says softly, on her knees in front of the silent girl now, tucking her bangs back behind each ear.
She made it sound like Sarah was some kind of hero, Cosima thinks, tasting bile on her tongue, But that wasn't heroics. That was cowardice. But not on her part. On mine...
"Where did she go?" Kira speaks finally, her voice curious. Calm. She hasn't understood it yet. She doesn't know that her mother is-
"Somewhere she can always watch over you," Delphine explains gently.
"Are they looking for me?" she asks, her voice still heartbreakingly child-like.
"They, sweetie?"
"Mummy and Felix," she says, as if it is obvious. She didn't know, she didn't-
They murdered Fee in cold blood!
At this point Delphine looks helplessly over at Cosima, who has been keeping her distance up until then. But when Delphine beckons her over, she knows that she has to confront the little girl. Kneeling down next to Delphine, Cosima takes both of Kira's hands and smiles at her. Despite her gut twisting up in knots and the churning in her stomach, the smile was as genuine as it could be in such circumstances. She was so innocent and pure. Sarah raised her well, Cosima thinks, her smile faltering at that.
"Your mummy is with Felix right now, hun," she answers, squeezing her hands gently, "They're watching you right now, okay?"
"You're not mummy," she states, but there is a tiny question behind her words, as if a part of her unrealistically hoped that it is her mother behind all the make up and the funny hair and the strange clothes.
"No sweetie," she murmurs, feeling sick as tears burned behind her eyes. "I'm not."
The little girl hugs her then, catching Cosima by surprise. It isn't until she returns the embrace that Cosima realizes that it had been a long while since she has let anyone touch her in this way. She had been so lost in her grief, snapping at anyone who had tried to comfort her, at anyone who tried to tell her that it wasn't her fault.
Would you cry?
"You can be," she says, her voice sure and steady in the way that only a child's voice could be. And it is only in that moment of holding Kira that Cosima finally lets go of everything else. That she finally allows herself to cry.