The guard escorts her all the way to the airport gate and observes her go through security. There's not much to be done. Stupid, she berates herself. Why had she done what Rachel wanted? Why hadn't she seen the trap? She thinks of Cosima, of Kira's bone marrow she'd been preparing for the surgery. Rachel will never let Cosima have it. Cosima, how many days does she have left? Will she manage to rescue Sarah from the oophorectomy? Will Scott's help be enough? Who will look after Cosima? Has she done enough? Will it ever be enough?
She's distracted, showing her passport, allowing security to pat her down, going through the motions of boarding. The plane is already boarding and she makes her way to the gate, showing the ticket and her passport, nodding but not listening to what anyone is asking or telling her. She could quit DYAD, but then they may have her killed... She could put in for a transfer back to Toronto... or request time off... Delphine's mind races through scenarios - ways to get back to Cosima as quickly as possible. Nothing plausible.
She is seated in an aisle seat in business class. Surrounded by largely middle-aged individuals clutching laptops and smartphones. It's calm, it's quiet. It's all wrong.
Delphine is usually good at keeping things contained, but something in her breaks and she's crying through take-off.
"Are you alright?" The older woman sitting next to her glances at her, dropping her knitting to her lap.
"Yes." Delphine tries to choke back her tears, it is not the time There's no point in crying, but she cannot help it, the tears fall regardless.
"Oh honey," the older woman shakes her head and digs in her purse for a small pack of tissues which she quickly hands over, resuming her knitting, glancing over at Delphine with concern. The clacking of the metal needles barely audible over her own tears.
She accepts the tissues, dabbing at her eyes and running nose - but she cannot stop the loud, ugly sobbing.
"Are you afraid of flying?" The woman sets her knitting back on her lap and looks over at her, "My husband is too."
"No." Delphine shakes her head, still crying.
"I don't like flying alone," The woman comments, "My husband is on dialysis - otherwise he'd be with me, terrified or not. Our daughter is an ex-pat in Germany. Got a job at the embassy, got herself a husband and never moved back. Flying is the only way I get to see three of my grandchildren, so I fly."
Delphine pauses, assessing this woman - cross around her neck, grey hair - it's probably wiser not to speak of Cosima. Not of her breaking heart, or her beloved's breaking down body.
"I'm Margaret." She smiles kindly.
She chokes her own name out through her weeping, "Delphine." Her name won't hurt her here.
"You going home Delphine?" Margaret asks gently.
"No. Work transfer." She cries more, if anything. Other passengers start to look over and stare at her. Traveling business class is typically more comfortable and quieter than coach - but it won't be today; Delphine's sobbing continues, eyes red and breathing staggered.
"Not going home then?" Margaret nods, "I have more tissues if you need dear."
Delphine leans back against the seat, closing her eyes. Where is Cosima now?
Margaret pulls out a small tablet computer, skimming through her photos.
Delphine tries to distract herself, it is too long a flight to cry for the entire thing. She glances over, the photos are of children, gardens, vegetables...
Margaret flags down a flight attendant, "Dear, could you get the young lady next to me some water? She's having a rough time."
"Of course." The flight attendant nods, and makes his way back to the small kitchen.
"Would you like to see my daughter?" Margaret offers, holding out the tablet, a photo taking up the entire screen.
The photo is of a couple, a few years older than Delphine herself, and their three small children. The youngest a baby in arms, all smiling happily.
"Beautiful family." Delphine comments. It's true, the children are all cute and smiling, obviously laughing.
"Yes, I think so. The little one, Elias, looks so much like his mother. You'd think Kate had cloned herself!" Margaret jokes, "I think the girls favour their daddy."
Delphine's breath stops for a moment, but this woman knows nothing, she forces a smile, "Do you have lots of grandchildren?" That is what older people wanted to talk about? Right? It had been a long time since she'd spoken to her own grandparents.
"Yes, I have seven grandchildren." Margaret announces proudly, "Kate's my youngest - I have three other children, most of them are parents now."
Margaret continues to skim through the photos, of children - some the same as before, others looking different - from Margaret's other children, Delphine assumes. She comments politely, trying to redirect her mind from a constant stream of thoughts of Cosima dying, never seeing her love again.
The flight attendant, Ben, returns - handing her a bottle of water and then leaving her to the mercies of the older woman next to her.
A collection of outdoor photos follows, from what Margaret explains is her church's last summer picnic. Mostly friends, Margaret and her pale grey-haired husband posing in lawn chairs. A photo catches her attention, two 40-something men cuddled close with a baby and a toddler cuddled between them, the next photo shows one man kissing his partner's cheek.
Delphine's eyes widen in surprise, "Who are they?" She finds herself asking, suddenly interested.
"That photo? My son Michael, his husband David and their two kids Olivia and Sam. Taken last summer, same picnic. Great photo isn't it?" Margaret smiles, unafraid of Delphine's reaction.
"It's a lovely photo. Another beautiful family." Delphine realizes she's judged this woman too quickly, by her grey hair and her knitting and the tiny gold cross around her neck.
"Thank you. Took it myself." Margaret smiles again.
"I was crying because my work is transferring me away from my girlfriend." It's not the whole truth, it can't be, but it's close enough. She bites back the tears, the same image filling her mind - Cosima dead, Cosima dying, she fights it off.
"Don't they have same-sex partner benefits? The company is in Toronto?" Margaret shakes her head sadly, disgusted at her employer.
She thinks quickly for a close to true response, "We don't qualify. Not together long enough." Delphine begins to tear up again, there's no way to explain it to this woman, she's just going to cry all the way to Frankfurt beside her. Cosima is struggling for breath and she's... she's looking at photos of a stranger's very full life.
"My advice? First chance you get for vacation you come back, get your girl, go down to city hall and you marry her. They won't dare separate you if you do." Margaret shakes her head sadly, "Michael and David have been married six years now - safest way to go I think."
There's no hesitation - she would do anything to stay with Cosima. "We haven't known each other very long," Delphine confesses.
Margaret volunteers, "I married my husband eight months after we met, and I haven't regretted it for a minute. Well not really." She laughs pleasantly, knowingly.
It's too complicated, Cosima is dying and this woman would have her planning her wedding. A wedding... Even just dragging Cosima down to city hall and having it done there. Delphine snorts unable to help herself, "I don't think..."
"Well, it's a option. Whatever company you work for wouldn't transfer you away from your wife." Margaret nods, "Unless you're one of those people who doesn't want to get married."
"No... no it's just..." Delphine trails off. Marry Cosima? Yes, a part of her mind screams at her. A more rational part knows there is no time. How ridiculous would that be? Cosima would probably laugh at her if she even suggested it. Though, the spouses of the subjects probably have more rights to remain with them... Not enough time, never enough time. Not with DYAD, not with clones and disease and Cosima dying. Not with Rachel calling the shots, not with Cosima's sisters likely as trapped as Cosima, or wanting her dead as well. Not with Kira kidnapped by Rachel...
"Just what?"
"Maybe I will." Delphine lies, blinking back the tears, "I'll marry Cosima, come back to Canada. Apply for citizenship." She wonders what it would be like to have this be easier, be as simple a story as she's telling to Margaret.
"There you go. You'll figure it out." Margaret pats her hand reassuringly, "A few months apart will mean nothing in 46 years, believe me."
Delphine weeps again, unable to prevent it, in 46 years Cosima will have been dead nearly as long. Unless she does something soon... Or she's wrong about Rachel - if Cosima is given the bone marrow there is a chance she will survive, at least long enough for gene therapy. But without her? Without an immunologist? With whatever physician they assign to her? Delphine doesn't trust them to try, doesn't trust them to do anything.
Another image comes to her - sitting on the couch with a grey-haired Cosima, watching Cosima reading and rubbing her toes on Cosima's veiny foot making her laugh. Her smile the same, even with her aged face, the same thrill running through her at the sound of Cosima's laughter. Walls covered with photos of their travels? Their children? Whatever it would be, their entire life lived together. Bookcases packed with books, both novels and nonfiction, French and English. The life she desperately wants to be living.
Whatever comes, she will not be easily separated from Cosima - she will think of something... After all, she has eight hours.
