XXXI.

Sarah sighed. "Well, there's always Rachel."

"Are you effing serious?" Felix slammed down his half-finished Guinness.

"Well, where else do you suppose we're going to get a private jet?"

"And what about Martin?"

Sarah bit her lip thoughtfully, looking at Mrs. S's signature on Helena's transfer papers. "Divide and conquer, yeah? We'll use Marion to get him out of the way long enough to get the plane."

"So what, tell her that Martin's a mole and to investigate him?"

"Basically."

Felix looked at the papers and shook his head. "Have you spoken to Cosima about this?" he asked, pointing to Mrs. S's signature.

"No, no way."

"Well, why not? She's part of this too, isn't she?"

Sarah gaze Felix an exasperated look. "Y'think I'm going to tell Cos that Siobhan sold Helena out to Project Castor and that she says that the cure was stolen? If Delphine hadn't stepped up and smuggled the cure to us…"

"But what if it wasn't Mrs. S?"

"Bloody hell, Fe, I don't know, but I sure as hell don't trust any of them."

"Well, what about Cal?"

"Uh uh, not happening. He's the one who contacted Marion." Sarah took a sip of her bourbon. "For all we bloody know, he could be in on it."

Felix rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. "You're starting to sound like Alison." He sighed, inspecting his nails. "Speaking of which, where is Alison?"

"Plausible deniability. She doesn't want to have any part in the planning process."

"Of course she wouldn't." Felix muttered. "So where are we going to get the equipment to pull this off? I mean, we're going to need guns, ammunition, god knows what else."

"Equipment is the thing I'm least worried about," Sarah said with a nod. "Art's supplying us with bulletproof vests, too."

Felix frowned in incomprehension. "Do you have a stash of weapons that I don't know about?"

"I don't," Sarah gave a crooked smile as she pulled out a key. "But Helena does."

"You've got to be bloody joking."

XXXII.

It didn't take long before they realised that they needed her to take care of the child and to monitor Helena's recovery; to administer medical tests and draw samples. The metaphorical gun against Helena's head was the only reason why she complied. The baby would be too valuable to lose. And when the time came that Delphine had outlived her stay, an exit strategy was simple enough.

It was a fine line between knowing too much and knowing too little in her precarious situation. She kept her eyes and ears open. The work itself was telling enough; they were looking to find a viable method of reproduction, but where they had succeeded and then subsequently failed she couldn't discern.

"Glad to see that you're settling in, Dr. Cormier."

She looked up from her microscope in surprise at the familiar voice. "You…!"

"Me," he smiled, pulling out the folder that he held under his arm.

"But you're Rachel's…" She bit back the word assistant.

"Mm, yes, that was a very convenient position." Martin looked down at the folder in his hands. "I'm just here to touch base, make sure you're acclimating to your new position well."

She glared at him, shaking with the effort to contain her rage. "What is that you want?"

Martin smiled and shrugged. "Well, actually, many things. But, I heard that you are cooperating and I thought that you deserved a reward for that," he said, sliding over the newspaper clipping.

Her heart plummeted when she saw the grainy photograph. She picked it up off the table reverently, her fingers brushing over the familiar face. She stared at it and then launched herself at him, grabbing him by the jacket and snarled. "You! This is your fault! Cosima's death is on your hands!"

Rough hands grabbed her, pulling her off of him and shoved her onto the ground, the point of a pistol digging into her cheek with her arm twisted painfully around and pinned to her back.

Martin stared impassively at her, then looked over at the newspaper clipping lying crumpled on the floor as he straightened his suit. "Keep it, if you like."

She fought against the guards who dragged her back to her cell and threw her on the cold concrete floor in an unceremonious heap, the wadded up paper landing beside her. She clutched it to her chest like a lifeline.

XXXIII.

She stared at it long enough for the text and photograph to burn into her retinas. It was a tattered piece of paper, fraying, with splotching water damage on it, making the words bleed. She knew them by heart.

Passed on March 21, 2014 at home among friends in Toronto. She is survived by her parents. A celebration of life will be held on April 7, 2014 at 4:00pm at the Glendale Community Centre at 3990 Major MacKenzie Drive E, Markham.

They upped her security, if only slightly, after the outburst against Martin. An extra guard with a rifle - useless in short range, she knew, but that was to her advantage.

She timed the distance between her cell and the lab where Helena's child was being kept. Four minutes, one hundred and ten steps until a right, then three hundred and seven steps and right, twenty steps and the lab door would be on the left. Finding Helena was harder but given the movements in the facility, she guessed that Helena was being held in a higher security area. Ten minutes to find her, she hoped, would be enough. Ten minutes to bring her inside after transferring, which meant it would take a little less than that to get back outside for extraction.

Days and nights bled together as she waited, biding her time. She pulled the digital watch she had stolen off the guard when he was pulling her away from Martin from under between the mattress and the bed and wrapped the strap around her wrist. Her body tensed, coiling, ready, waiting. Time was a precious commodity.

She glanced at her watch as the guards started unlocking the door to escort her to the lab.

April 7. 3:30pm.

It was time.

XXXIV.

"You're okay," she whispered, "you're going to be okay."

Her hand pressed against the forehead as she leaned in close, burying her face in the space between chin and beating chest. Reluctantly, she pulled away, her eyes hardening as she strode forward. She dropped into her seat, clipping the harness on around her.

"All good back there?"

"Yeah," Sarah shouted back up the aisle. She leaned over and tightened the belt around Delphine's waist, propped up in the seat next to her.

Cosima threw on her headset, pulling the microphone arm down. She grabbed the yoke with both hands. The plane descended, turbulence rattling the glasses in the mini bar, stashed away in the back of the plane.

"May day, may day, may day."

She looked beside her at the map strewn over the co-pilot seat. She frowned, glancing at the radio and slapped it with her palm. She switched the transponder over, rolling her eyes as she pushed the microphone out of her face.

"This would be a lot easier if the radio worked," she grumbled just as another air pocket shook the plane. She gripped the rattling yoke with white knuckles. "Damn it."

She let the plane glide lower and lower, banking to the left to check the landing strip as she ignored the flashing amber light on the dash and the spinning dials. The passengers were eerily silent behind her. She looked out the window at the trees that were waving at her in a blur, relieved when she saw the green light that the tower had given her.

She tugged on the lever to deploy the landing gear, her eyes flitting back and forth from out the window to the screen in front of her. The red LED flashed and she swore. She slammed the the lever again.

"Y'alright there, Cos?" There was a hint of panic in Sarah's voice.

"Yeah," Cosima lied.

"This better not be like the car ride over," Felix muttered, "or we are officially done for."

Cosima cracked a grin at that as she looked down at the yoke and took in a deep breath. She took one final look behind her, looking at their faces in turn: Sarah, strong and determined, Felix, afraid but desperately trying to alleviate the tension, Tony, a carefully manicured expression of boredom like a fuck you to the reality they lived in, Helena, bewildered, fascinated, and trusting as she clung tightly to the bundle in her lap.

And Delphine, her eyes half-opened, a small reassuring smile flitting across her lips.

"Hang tight, this is going to be rough landing."

XXXV.

"Cos? Cosima?"

Sarah fumbled with her seat belt and rushed forward, scrambling through the narrow entry to the cockpit. "Shite," she whispered, watching blood stream down the side of her sister's face. "Cos, wake up!" She checked the pulse as she hurriedly unbuckled the straps that held Cosima to her seat.

"Shit…" Cosima winced, her hand reaching up and touching her face, frowning in incomprehension at the sticky blood that transferred to her hand. "Is everyone okay?"

Sarah laughed, the tension in her gut easing. "Yeah, you did good, geek," she said, though her voice trembled. "C'mon, let's get you out of here."

"Delphine…"

"She's fine. Felix's got her, alright?" Sarah gently pulled Cosima out of the seat, holding onto her tightly as she guided her out and down the ramp, feeling Cosima's body tremble against hers from shock.

"The plane…"

Sarah grunted as she practically lifted Cosima up - she was so light, she realised with a start - so she wouldn't trip over the gap. "Cos, don't worry about it. Rachel will be pissed but everyone's fine, that's what matters, yeah?

"Yeah, yeah," Cosima muttered. A slow grin split across her face as she looked over at Delphine. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have any water, would you? I'm thirsty."

"Not right now, but as soon as Tony gets a car, we can get some, yeah?"

"Sure, sure," Cosima said with a weak wave of her shaking hands. "I don't feel so good…"

Sarah grimaced as she let Cosima lower herself to the ground, heaving up bile. She rubbed her hand against Cosima's back comfortingly. "Y'alright?"

"Yeah," Cosima said, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

A minivan drove up to them, screeching to a halt on the tarmac. Tony jumped out, rushing over to Sarah and Cosima and threw Cosima's arm over his shoulder.

"You losers want to get out of here, or what?"