It took far too long to find the apartment.
She had been there before. She had followed Cosima there from America, and now she was following her again. Only, last time it hadn't seemed to be down so many narrow streets and around dubious corners. It had been dark, before, and now it was barely twilight, but somehow it took so much longer.
Last time, she had dreaded arriving. Perhaps that was what had made Felix's loft seem to appear so swiftly. Now, she has yearned to be here for so long that any time spent searching is unbearable.
And then suddenly the street is familiar, the graffiti recognisable, and she has arrived. She knocked, and knocked again, and wondered if she should have warned Sarah first. But no, she couldn't have, there wasn't time and she couldn't have risked it. And then the door opened.
Delphine stumbled inside, clumsy with exhaustion, but quick to yank the door closed behind her. She saw the anxious looks Sarah and Felix were giving her, reassured quickly, "I do not think anyone is following me. But there is no reason to linger about, no?"
Sarah nodded rapid assent, Felix a more sceptical presence behind her. Delphine saw him put something heavy down, and looked away. She plucked at her scarf, began to unwind it, and Felix stepped forward sharply.
"For all the precautions you've been taking, I hope you're doing more than hoping no one is following you now," he warned. "We have enough problems without starting smuggling you or clones about."
His tone was harsh, and in another life, Delphine would have reeled. Today, she stared dully at him, waiting for more.
Sarah seemed as taken aback by his tone. "Go easy, Fe," she muttered, and he rounded on her.
"Bloody Delphine just bloody showed up on my doorstep after weeks of telling us it was too dangerous to even be in regular contact. Forgive me if I want to be sure she isn't leading more trouble straight to us when she bloody appears out of nowhere!" He shouted, and Sarah squared her shoulders, stepping into him.
Something was wrong, Delphine realised slowly. Before, Sarah had been tense and worried for Cosima, but she had always had an underlying belief that things were under control. Felix had not been rearing and on edge. Now, tension simmered, ready to break the surface. She didn't know what had changed, but she could assuage one fear.
"No, Felix. I was careful. They will not even know I am in the country, yet." She reassured, relieved when they turned towards her, and away from their rising fight.
Sarah quirked an eyebrow. "You'll have to teach me that trick," she murmured, and Felix snorted beside her. Sarah's posture tensed again, but all he said was,
"And when they do know?"
Delphine shrugged, suddenly beyond weary. "Then we will have another problem," she answered. "But I cannot do anything about that right now. I can only tell you that DYAD does not know where I am at this moment. They will surely suspect, and I will have to stay off the radar. That's unavoidable. But please." and she finally exhaled, her shoulders slumping in her exhaustion. "Where is Cosima?"
They'd begun to relax, but now Sarah's mouth went taut. "She's sleeping," she answered tightly, and Felix jerked his head towards a darkened corner of the apartment.
Delphine could just see a single bed tucked away there, a slender form just visible beneath tossed covers. She took a single step, and then Sarah stepped in front of her.
"Delphine, wait."
Delphine nodded, putting down her bag, and tossing away her jacket. "I have just snuck across two international boundaries and spent a month hiding from the DYAD to be here, Sarah."
"She's sleeping," Sarah tried weakly, and Delphine stepped into her space and looked her in the eye.
"I want Cosima well. I do not intend to wake her. But you have until I have washed my hands and face so as not to infect her with anything to tell me anything else I need to know, because I came back for her." She paused, waiting for Sarah to speak, but she seemed mute. "No?"
"She's sick, Delphine." Felix, not Sarah.
She'd been sleepwalking, moving from one place to the next and one challenge to the next from sheer impetus. She'd come back for Cosima, started on a long path only seeking her, and now found herself stopped at the final pass.
She lost all momentum, jerking to a stop like a wind-up toy out of twists. And stared unfocused eyes at Felix.
He went on, "She got better, but then she got, like, wacky again. Her fever came back, she was irritable, argued about everything. So we took her to the doctor, pretending to be Alison, and he says she has bronchitis now."
She remembered to breathe. "When...?"
"She went to the doctor today." Sarah cut in now, softer than her brother but the message brutal in its unexpected cruelty. "He says she'll recover, but it's viral, so no good drugs. She has to rest or she'll get pneumonia, and she's infectious, and we haven't worked out what to do."
For a moment, just one, she allowed herself to stand still, and close her eyes. She had thought... she had known Cosima was getting better, so it wasn't outlandish or extreme to have wanted to hold her. To touch her, to kiss her, to hear her laugh. To argue with her, try to stop her smoking marijuana. To hear her voice.
She opened her eyes. This time, they didn't block her when she went to the kitchen. Delphine poured herself a glass of water, and then unbuttoned her sleeves to wash her hands and wrists comprehensively with hot water and dish soap. Every nail, every knuckle, was scoured. She bypassed the kitchen towels and wiped her hands clean on a paper towel before drinking her water. And then she went to Cosima.
Felix had been right: Cosima was sleeping, and she was feverish. She set her hand on her forehead, considering, and then slid it up to touch the soft fuzz of her hair. It was darker than she remembered, or perhaps that was the light sweat she could feel under her fingertips. But her hair was curly now, curlier even than Sarah's, and somehow that was more of a shock than the loss of her dreadlocks.
She looked down, finally, at Cosima's sleeping face.
She wore no eyeliner, no glasses, but her face was singular and so dear. Delphine could not imagine how Sarah had ever impersonated her successfully, could not remember how she had been taken in for even the minute it had taken to work it out. How could it matter that they were genetically identical when they were all utterly singular?
She let her hand slip down to cup Cosima's cheek. Her thumb slid, and ever so lightly, touched the cupid's bow of her lips.
Cosima moved in her sleep, grumbling something indeterminable about cysteine sequencing. Delphine pulled back, and tried not to smile, or to cry.
