Author's Notes: This one was hard to write, but sort of inevitable. Thank you all for sticking with this story so far, it really means a lot. The end is very near. Much love.
A thick fog hangs low, cutting through the air and diffusing the sun's meager rays as she slowly treks through the dew-covered grass, tiny droplets of water clinging to her boots like memories, filling each step with a heaviness that sets her off balance. After standing still for what feels like hours, a statue in the haze, she's finally able to move again— though not in the direction she initially intended. Checking her watch, she realizes it's far too late to turn back now, so she presses forward. She's certain that her absence will be noted, but she can't bring herself to care. There's only one place she can think to go now, so she allows her unsteady feet to carry her as far as they can.
By some act of God she manages to venture through the park without collapsing or vanishing into the fog just like her phantom love. She makes it all the way to the small clearing, to the lion-headed fountain of stone that's since dried up, signifying the end of summer and the beginning of autumn, the slow but sure decay of all that's warm and vivid in her life. She steps into the very place where she once huddled so closely to the brunette, where quiet glances and timid touches had eventually caved in, giving way to that strange force which seemed to have come from nowhere to completely uproot her with a simple kiss. As she stares down at the spot she feels her heart rattle in her chest, stretching the confines of her ribcage and begging for some kind of desperate release she simply doesn't know how to grant. Colour begins to slowly fade out from her surroundings and her eyes are instead drawn to the palms of her shaking hands, to the deep and violent hues bleeding from her clammy pores.
She wonders where it's coming from.
Has it been there all along?
"Oi."
She jumps, startled by the intrusion. Her alarm almost immediately subsides though, because she instantly recognizes the voice. She doesn't even have to turn around to identify the owner, but she does so anyway. Sure enough, she's face-to-face with the young punk, the rest of her group lingering at a safe distance behind the brunette, passively watching. She allows her eyes to linger on them for a moment before they divert back to the faded ground beneath her feet, barely strong enough to keep her upright.
"Didn't see you at the funeral," Sarah remarks, slowly making her way closer.
Delphine nods, acknowledging her words though still unable to meet her gaze. Sarah attempts a smile, attempts to put the blonde at ease, but it's evident how little energy she has to devote to such a forced gesture. It seems like everyone's been running on empty lately. With so much sudden and vacant space, it isn't hard to imagine why.
"I was going to— but I… I…"
Her voice breaks, her breath becoming as thick as the fog that blankets the entire park. Images of Cosima come flooding into her mind— of her cold, lifeless face as she rests upon a bed of roses and mahogany. How was she supposed to just stand there and watch? How could she stand there and look down at her smallness and not see her whole world slip away? How was she supposed to stand in a room that was so strangely full of Cosima yet void of her at the very same time?
"I couldn't— I couldn't sit there and— I didn't know how to—"
She feels her throat begin to swell again, tears nipping at her eyes. Sarah steps forward and in a slightly uncharacteristic display of softness, places her hand on Delphine's arm in solidarity.
"It's okay," she reassures the French girl. "I get it, yeah? We all do."
Her eyes land upon the others, upon Alison and her simple black dress, wrinkle-free and pristine yet marred by stains that no amount of dry cleaning will ever properly tend to. Tony and Felix both wear somber suits to match their expressions, their bodies not quite full enough to fill them. Even Sarah's outfit has seemed to tame the unruly girl— the absence of colour isn't new, though her hair is brushed and her clothing free of rips and tears, giving some strange impression of maturity.
"How was it?" Delphine asks, desperate eyes finally meeting Sarah's. "Was it nice? Were there a lot of people?"
While she knows it makes no difference, that her reality will remain unchanged, there's a part of her that yearns to hear it— to know that Cosima was properly honoured, that she received every bit of love she deserved even as she was lowered into the ground, that the presence of such warmth would somehow make the earth softer, make her new home a little less lonely.
"Yeah. It was nice," Sarah mutters, her smile betraying itself as her own heartache seeps through and makes itself known in the cracking of her voice, the misting of her eyes. "There were loads of people. Her whole family, a bunch of kids from class I'm pretty sure she didn't even know— shit, even teachers and some of her doctors. And… and us."
There's a brightness and an honesty to the blonde's smile even as it breaks apart at the seams, even as she finds herself unable to stop the steady flow of salt from her eyes. She nods vigorously and laughs, biting down hard on her lower lip to keep the laughter from transforming into sobs.
"Tony even spoke," Sarah adds. "Didn't know he knew so many big words."
She squeezes her eyes shut, turning away from Sarah and the others, her body noticeably wracking as she does her best to cling to silence and control. Her fingers anxiously dance along the hem of her black skirt as she takes great care in steadying her breathing, taking in deep gulps of breath.
"Deep breaths, okay?"
"How did you know I'd be here?" Delphine finally asks, regaining some semblance of control.
While she's grown close to Sarah and the others through Cosima, she doesn't remember ever mentioning this place to them. This had been the place she came to with Cosima. This had been their place. Somehow, she already knows the answer to her question, but she needs to hear Sarah say it nonetheless.
"Cosima told me," Sarah plainly answers. "She told me this place was important to you, that I should… well, I just figured I'd find you here."
Delphine nods again, acknowledging and accepting Sarah's answer though still unable to turn back around and face her. She keeps her face concealed, knowing that it's probably a mess of streaky makeup, swollen eyes and blotchy, red patches. She attempts to wipe her nose on the sleeve of her black cardigan, but it hardly helps to correct her sorry situation.
"We're gonna head back to my place, have a drink. Why don't you come with?"
She's never been one for drinking, but she can't deny how tempting alcohol sounds right now. Supposedly it numbs the mind, allows you to lose yourself momentarily. At least, that's what Cosima had told her. Cosima wasn't much of a drinker, either. She always said she liked being present, that she never wanted to feel numb and impervious to the world. That's why she preferred weed— it made her hyperaware, allowed her to experience everything in greater detail. The blonde almost laughs at the irony of her situation. How is it that the two of them were ever able to find such a perfect level of understanding? Right now, she'd give anything to escape this. She'd welcome the numbness, drift away in its sweet release. It has to be better than whatever this is— this cacophony of emotions that clash against each other and scream so loudly inside of her that she's rendered deaf to their call, to their constant push and pull that keeps her trapped in one place.
You wanted the world, she thinks. And I want none of it.
Yet here she is, surrounded by life in all of it's loud, unpleasant glory— the thing she never asked for, the battle she was never strong enough to fight— while Cosima is doomed to exist solely in her memories.
Where's the fairness in this?
She turns back around towards Sarah and the second her eyes land upon the shorter girl, her entire body locks up. How? How is she supposed to go back with them, back with Cosima's friends, without Cosima? How are they supposed to drink and interact without the thread that binds them all together? How are any of them supposed to carry on like things are normal?
"I… I… I can't," she struggles, her breaths strangled and uneven. "I can't move."
She feels her knees begin to buckle just like that day on Cosima's porch when she'd learned the truth. Sarah rushes forward and reaches for her while Delphine gasps for breath.
"Hey. Here, it's okay," Sarah reassures her, slowly lowering her to the ground. "A little help, please?"
As if on cue, the others finally join the conversation. Felix and Tony each slip one of her arms around their necks to support her, helping her to her feet again while Sarah and Alison talk quietly amongst themselves, their words indiscernible to the blonde.
"It's okay, darling," Felix tells her.
"That's right," Tony adds, his voice softer than she ever remembers it being. "We've got you."
She clings to Tony's arm for support as he helps her through the doorway and into a rather quaint, almost normal-looking house. She can't quite picture Sarah or Felix living in such a place, but as Tony walks her into the living room and takes a seat next to her on the couch, she can see photo evidence of the two young miscreants adorning the walls and the mantle. Sarah heads straight into the kitchen where an older woman is waiting, leaning against the counter with a mug in her hand.
"Hey, S."
"Hey, love," she replies, her accent thick. "How'd it go?"
Sarah sighs heavily, closing her eyes and trying to center herself as her lip subtly quivers. It's all the answer the woman needs. She offers Sarah a sympathetic look, nodding curtly before reaching forward and pulling the punk into a hug.
"Got anything to drink?" Sarah mumbles into her arm.
The older woman chuckles.
"Is that a question you really have to ask?"
Sarah reemerges from the kitchen while their benefactor shuffles around, reaching into one of the cabinets to retrieve an expensive-looking bottle of bourbon and then fishing out glasses for each of them. She joins the rest of them in the living room, pouring liquor into each glass before handing them out.
"Normally I don't approve of underage drinking, but given the circumstances, I think it's appropriate," the woman remarks. "But don't think for a second that means I'm gonna watch you all get pissed and act like bloody fools. You can have a drink."
They all nod in silent understanding. By the time she makes her way around to Delphine to hand her a glass, the French girl's hands are trembling so badly that she nearly drops it and spills the liquor all over the floor. The Irish woman catches it just in time before any can spill, holding Delphine's hands in her own to steady them, the warmth from hers radiating out.
"Easy, love," she coos. "You must be Delphine."
Delphine nods.
"I'm Siobhan. I take care of these two bleeders."
Delphine manages a half-smile as she brings the glass to her lips to take a sip. The second the amber liquid hits her tongue, her entire face contorts in displeasure and Siobhan chuckles, taking a seat in the armchair across from the group. She takes a large gulp of her own drink and Delphine eyes her carefully.
"You knew Cosima as well?" she asks.
Siobhan chuckles again, the rest of them quickly joining her. There's clearly a history that Delphine is oblivious to, so she sits patiently in her seat and waits for Siobhan to explain while her knee bounces anxiously.
"Oh, did I ever," Siobhan replies. "She used to come round here all the time. The only one out of this lot that had any sort of sense at all."
"Yeah," Sarah mutters, staring deeply into her drink.
"She was always pulling Sarah out of scraps, driving them around in that hideous heap of metal, helping them cheat on their tests."
"So we wouldn't fail," Felix adds.
"We needed to stick together. Didn't matter how," Tony chimes in.
Delphine forces herself to take another sip, allowing their words to sit with her as she mulls them in unison with the alcohol. She'd dreaded coming back here with them initially, but she finds the conversation to be strangely… cathartic.
"You didn't go to the funeral either?" she inquires.
Siobhan shakes her head, brushing a strand of dark hair out of her face and tucking it safely behind her ear. A small, enigmatic smile finds its way onto her face and Delphine leans forward in her chair.
"I've been to more than enough funerals in my life, love. I've had my fill," she explains. "We all say goodbye in our own way. I don't need a casket, a sermon and a weeping mother to do that."
Siobhan's words strike her hard and fast. Her body goes rigid, paralyzed by this revelation. That's what this is all about— saying goodbye to Cosima. Only she has no idea how to do that. How do you part with something that's become so intrinsic to you? Do you really have to? How do you carry it with you without allowing it to weigh you down? How do you honour it properly? Standing over her girlfriend's body and weeping just didn't feel right. Even shutting herself away like she was once so inclined to do seemed disingenuous.
So how?
The conversation continues. They all take turns sharing their favourite stories of Cosima and laughing; stories of young Cosima, of kind Cosima, of rebellious Cosima, of clever Cosima. They try their hardest to capture all the shades of her, but only the blonde realizes how impossible a task that truly is. She'd given up a long time ago. She remains silent on the couch, her eyes far away with her mind as their laughter tickles at her periphery. Eventually they all begin to pile into the kitchen with the promise of food, but she remains fixed in place, unable to abandon the question that's been nagging at her mind.
"You should eat something."
She looks up to see Siobhan standing before her, a small plate of food in hand.
"You've had a long day. You need your strength."
"I… I'm not hungry," she utters, head dropping again.
She hears Siobhan sigh and place the plate upon the side table before taking a seat next to her on the couch. Without looking up again, she can feel Siobhan's eyes on her body, feel her sympathetic gaze peering into her. Its press isn't harsh or violent, but its pressure is firm enough to pull some of that raging wind to the surface. Her lip is the first to give, it's quivering undeniable as her entire body soon joins it.
"Come here, chicken," Siobhan coos, pulling the sobbing girl in close for a hug.
She finds herself suddenly unconcerned with how loud she is, how her wailing seems to fill the entire house, how the noise in the kitchen dies down, how the older woman's sweater seems to efficiently soak up her tears. Suddenly, her facade seems so trivial, so unnecessary. She doesn't even remember why she built it in the first place— the fear and self-consciousness that it was built upon pales in comparison to the deluge she's experiencing now.
"There's no proper way to deal with something like this. There's no right or wrong way to feel," Siobhan whispers, lightly stroking Delphine's hair. "I lost my husband years ago. I still have to remind myself when I wake up every morning that he's gone."
She clutches tightly to Siobhan, afraid that she'll be swept away if she surrenders her hold. But maybe she will anyway. After all, she'd held onto Cosima so tightly and still lost her. Maybe it's impossible to avoid getting swept up in it.
"You never get used to it, but it does get a little easier. You find other reasons to keep going," Siobhan tells her, eyes rising to land upon her two children who stand in the doorway, watching with heavy lips and shoulders.
The trembling girl is oblivious to their audience, oblivious to anything that isn't the woman's strangely soothing voice and the comfort of her wisdom, her experience. She finds it more useful that any piece of wisdom Doctor Leekie has ever imparted.
But even still.
"Keep her close. Take her with you. Don't leave a part of yourself behind with her. She doesn't need it now. She wouldn't want it anyway."
Even with Siobhan's permission, she still can't bring herself to accept it. She still can't wrap her mind around how quickly this all happened, how in less than a year she's gone from wanting to disappear completely to finding her great love, only to lose her so quickly.
"Why?" she sobs, burying her face a little deeper into the comfort of Siobhan's chest. "Why did this happen?"
After everything, that question still haunts her. If she had done anything differently, would Cosima still be here? Could she have done anything differently? Would she want to? Could she have done more? Could she have been more?
"I don't know, love," Siobhan admits, shaking her head.
Here she finds herself again, trapped in a a room with the walls quickly enclosing on her, a room full of all these questions she doesn't know how to answer. Only this time, she doesn't have Cosima here to help her.
"I don't know."