In her twenty four and a half years, Cosima had never believed in ghosts, not until that very moment. Perhaps it fell far from the traditional sense of the word, but that did not make it any less real. There, a little less than twelve inches before her very face, stood the ghost of a future that should have been, a future that never came to fruition. She was all too quickly jolted into a surreal construction of what she had considered a possible future to be like in her imagination. For a split second, she was in a reality where her girlfriend came home from her morning run, but she didn't mind that she was flushed pink and covered in sweat. She subsided in a parallel universe where they would bump noses and share a chaste kiss before Delphine sauntered off up the stars to shower, where she would inevitably be followed.

Just as quickly as it had come, her imaginary world evaporated in a quiet sigh in response to Delphine repeating her name, followed by a hushed 'I can't believe it's you.' Any happiness that her daydream had to offer was instantly demolished by the wrecking ball of reality. This woman, whoever she was, however she carried the same name and face, was nothing more to Cosima than a complete stranger.

She would have thought that the same conclusion would have been reached on the opposing side, though she was mistaken. The truth was, she was just as much of a stranger to Delphine. The woman that stood in formal suit dress for work in the middle of a kitchen in a multi-million dollar mansion was in no way the same girl Delphine had abandoned all that time ago. Gone were the wild brunette curls that danced in the wind of a cool night by the river. Gone were the taped up, bent thick frames that were nearly falling apart as they hung on her face. In their places came tight, dark dreads that swung over her shoulders, and thick, sleek spectacles that perched perfectly on the bridge of her nose, keeping the dexterity and cunning contained in her burning gaze.

In an unknown rush of unpleasant sensations, it felt as though every last bit of blood drained from Cosima's face; she was floored, shocked by the fact that for once, her memories weren't entirely unwarranted. Not a moment later, though, her neck started to flush a dark red and it slowly ascended, her ears gaining color before it slipped onto her cheeks, spilling over like a tipped glass of red wine, staining everything in it's path. She had gotten to a point in her life where she had resigned to moving on, to making a better life for herself, and she had been doing a rather decent job at that, at least until that moment. She felt like a lost child again, like she couldn't begin to explain which way was up and why. Every inch of her body was screaming, yelling at her to move, to breathe, to do absolutely anything, but she felt stuck.

Delphine's hands clutched desperately, tightly at the waterbottle between them, causing the plastic to crinkle. What did she do? What was she supposed to do? She'd never imagined that this day would come, or that she would have to find it somewhere in her to be completely honest about the things she had done— or, rather, not done— and how it was probably going to make things worse than they already were. Now, though, was not the time. Instead, she, too, was a little stranded in thought. What was there to say? That she was sorry? She knew Cosima would have absolutely none of it. What she had not been anticipating, though, was that a conversation was the absolute last thing on Cosima's agenda. As Delphine was still attempting to compile her thoughts, she was rattled out of them as Cosima simply turned and started to walk away. Instinctively, the blonde's hand shot out and touched the soft skin of the other woman's wrist, though she made no move to take hold of it.

As if she had been bit by a viper, Cosima's hand instantly retracted toward her body and she hissed in anger, her eyes narrowing as she spun on Delphine. "Don't," she snapped, a wildfire burning recklessly in her eyes.

"Cosima, please. I just want to talk. We just need to talk." Delphine's words were as desperate as the look in her eyes, the one that screamed she wanted to mend fences and reconcile the past with the present.

"We don't need to do anything," Cosima countered, her jaw tight and her teeth grinding. Looking at her, just taking in how rigid her posture was and how locked up she seemed to be, Delphine realized that this ran far deeper than she understood. Something had changed in her first love, and it was a sickening realization to comprehend just how truly different she was. "Now if you don't mind, I have a job to do."

"You're different," Delphine stated stupidly, desperate to just keep Cosima's feet in one place for even a moment. It worked, as Cosima whipped her head around, her cheeks so red that they rivaled street signs with bright white letters that read STOP. "You… you look d-different.. and…" Before she could go on, just filling the space with hot air to prolong the inevitable, Cosima had clearly had enough.

"Because I am different. You know my name, and you know my face, but I can promise you that those are the only two things you know about me." Her words fired so rapidly, with so much firepower that it caused Delphine to step back, bumping into the cool metal of the refrigerator. Cosima followed suit, closing a bit more of the space between them. "We're not kids anymore. We don't all reach the destination of adulthood on a cushioned pathway like you did. Some of us had to grow up the hard way."

With that, Cosima turned on her heel and stomped off out of the kitchen and out the back door, leaving Delphine reeling. She turned and leaned forward on the counter, dropping the plastic bottle to the marble surface as it rolled away from her, apparently like much in her life had always done, sliding just out of reach. Never once in a million years had she ever considered the possibility that this would ever happen, that she would have to own up to the decisions she had made, the lies she had told, and the person she had hurt.

Just like Cosima said, they grew up. It wasn't her fault that her path had been a little easier to traverse and she could not be made to feel guilty for it. Moving to San Francisco had bettered her life. Was it unfortunate that Cosima was lost in translation? Absolutely, but Delphine had been… well, young and dumb. She had let the money go to her head, let the parties eat up so much of her time. She finally felt important, special, like her contribution to the world, even if it was just a good time, was valuable. With that came the attention. Despite having found a special connection with someone in her childhood, it was moving to a better place and being in a better place that offered her so much more in the form of interpersonal relationships. She got lost in the sex, in the men and the women that seemed to know her name only because of the size of her trust fund and because of who her step-mother was. It hadn't mattered to Delphine, though, so long as it helped her out-run the problems she had left behind.

As Cosima made her way down the hill of the back yard toward where the truck and Quin's SUV were parked, she was still absolutely fuming. How in the name of all that was unholy had that even happened?! Why hadn't it dawned on her before that one moment, that one fucking moment, that she knew somewhere deep down where it was they were going. It didn't hit her until she was staring into the eyes she never expected or wanted to see again that it was real; Melissa Cormier- Ericksohn, founder of the Ericksohn Corporation. Of course. She had never felt so stupid in her life, so impossibly stupid.

For a few moments, it almost felt as if the universe was just playing some impossibly cruel joke on her. She would walk back in there and she would realize that the woman inside was just someone who reminded her of a past life she never wanted to go back to. She knew, though, that not only was that naively hopeful, but it was entirely unrealistic. She was to face this, or, well, walk off and get fired. Could she really give Delphine that kind of power again, the power to control what became of her life? Could she risk the only way to pay her rent just because she was a coward who couldn't work through an uncomfortable situation? It's so much more than that, and you fucking know it, she scolded herself, kicking at the grass angrily.

"Hey! I thought you were carrying in the cham— Woah woah woah. What happened, Sparky?" Lennox's voice got progressively quieter as he came around the corner of the truck and spotted her, but then got a better look at her. She wanted to smile; Lenny was a good guy. He looked like he'd walked straight out of a wooded forest, with his mop of short, dark blonde curls and the fuzz of the same color that covered his chin and jaw, but he had the most remarkable blue eyes, ones that almost carried an unnerving ability woven into the fabric of his nearly translucent iris. She knew that his humor was often misinterpreted, but she got him on another level of comprehension. More than that, though, when he called her Sparky (which he affectionately dubbed her one night at a little get together where she sparked up at least four joints in the first hour), it almost made everything else seem unimportant. He was like the brother she could have used in her youth, the one she had always hoped to have in another version of reality.

"What are the chances boss man will let me go home sick?" she asked, tilting her head to the side as she fidgeted with her fingers.

"Jamie probably won't have any of it, especially after the heating trays weren't in the back of the truck. Britta's probably going to get fired for that one." Cosima's face fell and she averted her gaze, knowing that if he saw more than she wanted him to, he would start prying. Instead, he jogged over to Quin's car and rummaged around in the back, pulling something out before he stashed it away in his jacket. As he jogged back over toward Cos, she could see the glint of the metal flask and her lips parted in a small smile. "I'd ask what was wrong," he'd started as he sidled up to her, producing the flask, "but we both know you won't talk until ten hour from now when we're all about to pass out on Quin's floor."

With an agreeable smirk and a nod of her head, she slid her hand into his jacket and took the flask from him, taking a quick but full pull of the liquid inside, her face puckering sourly as a burn snaked down her throat. Her lips smacked together and she returned the gift discreetly, looking up at him. "I'm too damn lucky to have you as a friend, you know that, right?"

He beamed down at her, but rolled his eyes. "Of course I do, but who else is going to put up with you and your little kitten-style temper tantrums?" He gave her a gentle nudge in the side with his elbow and nodded his chin up toward their range of domain for the evening. "Now, whatever's gotten to you? Let it be the reason we have the best service we can manage, so then, we can all get shitfaced and celebrate just how damn amazing we really are."

She hesitated for a moment, knowing just how difficult the night ahead was going to be, but looked up at him, a promise brewing in her eyes. "Let's kill it," she agreed, "And then, just saying, but you owe me an entire damn bottle. I'm going to need it."