At the end of the day, Cosima found herself more exhausted than usual. The subject matter of her and Delphine's work at the DYAD Institute was both fascinating and frightening for the better half of her kind, all at once. It didn't help that vampires killed Delphine's brother. It didn't help that Delphine and her had, somehow, merged, making Delphine's deplorable memories a living reality for the brunette. It didn't help that this connection was… impossible to begin with. Yes, Cosima could read minds, but she couldn't live through them– minds aren't film reels, they can't be played like a movie or experienced like a first-person video game. Yet, here she was, ruminating over the impossibility of something, somehow, made possible by chance.
Calling Danielle on her way to her flat, Cosima managed to get the contact information of a local weed dealer, because god, she needed a joint. Although the THC never had quite the same effect it once did on her psyche, it was the act of lifting the thin stick to her lips and inhaling its lucrative powers of 'chill' that made her relax, reminding her of the days she still had a beating heart.
Locating her laptop, Cosima flopped onto her couch, turning off all the lights in the flat before making herself comfortable. Cosima opened the metal capsule, watching the machine come to life in her bare hands, fingers relieved of their metallic collars.
Opening up Skype, Cosima moved the cursor over Siobhan Saddler's icon, luckily online. Stubbing her joint on a nearby ashtray, Cosima sighed and called her matriarch.
Not having to wait long, the older woman greeted Cosima with a concerned smile. Cosima could hear the cacophony of the business taking its course on the floor below Siobhan, forgetting the woman must be busy with patrons. "Well, Chicken, you know I love to hear your voice, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised to hear from you so soon," said Siobhan to break the silence, "You're lucky I was waiting for a chat from Kira, but you know Sarah… never punctual, always the mess."
Cosima nodded, rolling her head around her neck for the heck of it. "I know this is… inconvenient, but you're the only one who might know what… it is I'm dealing with here."
Her interest peaked; the older woman narrowed her eyes at the brunette on her computer display.
Recognizing this was the only response she'd get, Cosima continued, "You know I can read people… read their thoughts and all that jazz." Siobhan nodded. "Well, I've never been able to experience their thoughts… like their memories. Is it possible to be drawn into someone's mind like that? To the point where you're basically there in the moment– where you're completely disarmed and experiencing whatever the individual is as if you were them?" Her hands were twirling in the air as she rambled through her monologue, wanting nothing more than answers, but getting lost in the components of her claim.
Siobhan's facial expression remained stoic, concealing her reaction. "And did they notice what happened? Did they recognize that this… merge occurred?"
Cosima shook her head, "no, she didn't look like she was hyper aware of it. She thought she experienced it alone maybe? I don't think she attributed it to anything out of the ordinary," offered Cosima.
The Brit pursed her lips, leaning forward on her desk to get closer to the webcam. "She?"
Cosima's eyes doubled in size, realizing too late she may have divulged too much information. Realizing lying to the woman would be futile and foolish at best, Cosima opted for the truth. "Yeah. A co-worker."
"At the institute?" The older woman pried.
"Yes."
A beat. "What is her name?"
Cosima bit the inside of her cheek, closing her eyes tightly, afraid to share– afraid of what it could mean. "Delphine Cormier."
Siobhan leaned back into her chair at the profession, in silent shock. "…Is that so?" Spoke the older woman carefully. Cosima nodded. "Well, Chicken, it seems you two are connected in some way; bonded perhaps? It could mean that you have… imprinted on her–"
"Wait, what?" Sputtered Cosima incredulously. "That-that's impossible. That's only for werewolves, like Cal imprinted on Sarah…"
"Usually, yes. But in this case, no. It's rare, Cosima; very, very rare," responded the matriarch thoughtfully. "This means she is–"
"–I don't believe in soul mates. They're complete bullshit. I think love can be strong, but the idea that two people are destined to be together…" trailed the younger woman.
"It is irrelevant what you believe, Cosima," spat Siobhan, realizing too late she may have come across too harsh. "I'm sorry, dear. This is what is known of imprinting: experiences are shared– her memories are as much hers as they are yours and vice versa." Cosima gulped. Could Delphine really see her own memories? It was possible apparently. What would happen if she saw the truth? "You have to learn to control yourself, Chicken. Bonds are rare and should be cultivated, but she is a Cormier. Her family will not hesitate to kill you, regardless of what you have become to Delphine."
Cosima nodded thoughtfully, unsure of what to do with this information.
"Cosima, relax. Maintain your distance; be smart about this. Your assignment has not changed: infiltrate DYAD, find a cure, remain inconspicuous," advised Siobhan. "How is the rest coming along, hmmm?"
Cosima swallowed the lump in her throat thickly, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Fine. They're working on an injection that will make human blood undrinkable; it's a prototype, but if things continue progressing as fast as they have been, the product should be available by the beginning of next year."
Siobhan sighed ruefully, "and it's October now. Wonderful."
"S…" began Cosima carefully, "you know that man I almost… you know… in the alleyway when I first got here? The story Danielle told you and everyone else about?"
The woman narrowed her eyes and rested her head on her raised fist after giving the dreadlocked brunette a nod of affirmation.
"He works for DYAD. Not exactly sure what his job is– I know it's a bit of grunt work– but he…" The silence was deafening, and Siobhan was growing restless.
"He what, Cosima?"
The younger vampire glanced at the computer screen timidly, biting the inside of her cheek again until she could feel the slippery skin breaking, tasting foul blood. "…He was with Delphine… They were… a thing, I guess. I mean, they're not anymore, but if he still works within DYAD, I'm sure he'll be visiting her from time to time, even if it annoys the shit out of her…"
The matriarch growled, abruptly standing up from her seat and slamming her fists down hard onto the table. "He'll recognize you."
Cosima nodded, avoiding the screen for as long as possible.
"I'll call Cal so he can dig up as much information on this man as possible. What is his name?"
"Paul Dierden," muttered Cosima coolly.
"WHAT?! HE'S A DIERDEN? BLOODY HELL, COSIMA. YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE SO CARELESS!" Siobhan was fuming, eyes turning black with rage.
Eyes snapping back to the computer screen, Cosima grimaced at the tone of the Brit's voice, never before having been the subject of such anger. "What? What does being a 'Dierden' mean?" Cosima squeaked.
Releasing a deep breath, the older woman sat back on her seat stiffly, covering her face with her hands. "It means he's the son of the Chief-Of-Security at DYAD, Cosima. Or better yet, he is the Chief-Of-Security."
"What happened to his dad?" Inquired Cosima softly, afraid of the answer.
"Felix killed him."
Delphine found herself alone and exhausted, as she always was at the end of a busy workday. But today wasn't like the others. Delphine felt emptier– like a discarded toy, no longer sought out by the child who once cherished it. She was a mere shadow of her former self. It pained her to even begin to comprehend how she had reached this level of invalidity. Delphine felt dead and considered herself no more alive than her brother, because, for all intensive purposes, she died along with Colin. When he burned to death, she burned. When she reflects on him now, she plucks a cigarette out of her purse and tries her hardest to imagine that she is breathing him into her lungs with every puff of smoke she inhales. She wants to drown in the flames like her brother, but can't find it in herself to end her own existence. To Delphine, she and her brother were 'one in the same'– split from the same egg and thrust into an unknown world where the only constant was each other.
When Delphine was scared, she'd grab her brother's hand, clutching her bottom lip between her teeth in worry; now, Delphine merely welcomes the possibility of death. She wouldn't mind dying like her brother. To Delphine, it would only be fair. Half of her died already.
So when Paul relayed to the entirety of DYAD that a certain section of Paris was under investigation and off limits because of a possible vampire threat, Delphine did the only thing that came to mind… and went to explore.
The second Delphine stepped out of her flat, she regretted not shucking on her charcoal double-breasted coat dangling from the rack beside her front door. The wind was biting and harsh, nipping at the uncovered skin poking out from behind her burgundy sweater. Cradling her body, she rubbed the sides of her arms, hoping the added friction would ease a bit of the discomfort.
The streets were desolate, with most Parisians opting to stay inside for a warm meal or more… intimate entertainment. Delphine hummed quietly to herself to distract herself from the freezing temperature. Once she could no longer take the incessant gusts of frigid air slamming into her chest, Delphine darted into a busy bar.
The room was illuminated by the dim glow of cheap light bulbs, the capsules already buzzing from prolonged use. Young men and woman were crawling around the cozy establishment; no older than 35 years of age, Delphine guessed. The space itself was almost antiquated– old wood creaking beneath her feet, customers sprawled atop faded leather booths, and timeless works of art littering the Victorian walls painted a crisp shade of violet.
Needing some liquid courage, Delphine ordered a glass of cognac from the young brunette working the bar. She was beautiful; she was simple and elegant in her motions, something Delphine couldn't help but envy.
The brunette was short, needing to stand on her tiptoes to reach bottles and glasses hanging from their ceiling compartments. What should've been an awkward endeavor for the woman, considering her profession, merely seemed graceful and fluid. If Delphine didn't know any better, she'd say the brunette almost flew to reach her target.
"Bonjour," greeted the woman playfully. "See anything you like?"
Delphine jolted in surprise, meeting the eyes of the brunette now drying the interior of a seeping glass with a scarlet towel. The woman wore a satisfied grin on her pale face; obviously enjoying the speechless effect she had on the blonde– not that it was uncommon for the bartender to begin with. Blushing, Delphine shook her head self-depreciatingly, curls bouncing atop her shoulders. "Ehm… non, I was just…" the Parisian lost sight of her words, chuckling to herself at the absurdity of the situation before meeting the brunette's intense gaze; Delphine's lip caught between her immaculate, ivory teeth.
"What's your name?"
"Delphine– enchanteé," croaked Delphine, offering her creamy, clammy palm as a token of kinship.
The bartender eyed her appraisingly, smirking at the nervousness the blonde radiated like a lighthouse on a stormy night. Setting the dried container on the tabletop with a gentle clink, the woman offered her shaking customer a reassuring smile, flashing prominent canines behind plum, plump lips. The blonde visibly shivered as her offered appendage was taken unabashedly between two icy palms.
"Enchanteé– Danielle, Danielle Fournier."
Cosima couldn't stand being in her apartment any longer, Felix having ignored all her calls. When the fuck was he in Paris anyway? Why the fuck didn't I know about it? Shaking off the foul taste in her mouth from being withheld information by her supposed wingman, Cosima folded her small frame into her signature red coat and wrapped a black-patterned scarf around her neck; she had to keep up appearances, after all, even if she could manage without all these extra layers.
She can't remember getting to the bar, she just figured she could use the distraction– the comfort another's body could offer her if they happened to be in the mood.
Pulling the door open, she was met with a mess of golden curls and rosy cheeks. Her laughter pierced the frigid Parisian air, blasting Cosima's hyperactive thoughts to a mere 'mute.'
"Delphine?" Whispered Cosima, almost inaudibly, the woman possessing her attentions meeting her gaze with wide eyes and an open mouth. The blonde averted her gaze quickly, causing Cosima to follow the eyes of the woman who unexpectedly possessed her unbeating heart. Another's pale hand was on the small of Delphine's back, the trespasser's other hand clutching the blonde's left arm affectionately– still frozen in their interrupted position of uninhibited nonsensical tomfoolery.
Cosima felt sick, her own saliva tasting sour in her mouth, as if all her years of being dead had caught up to her and she were decomposing on the spot.
"Cosima?" Danielle voiced almost as more of an accusation than a question.
Delphine shrugged out of the other Frenchwoman's grasp, straightening her sweater and playing with its hem uncomfortably. "You two know each other?"
"Family friend."
"Distant Cousin," they offered in tandem.
Delphine ignored the slightly differing answers, succumbing to an unbearable sense of guilt she couldn't pin the source of.
"I'm going to go back to work now… uh, it was nice meeting you, Delphine," afforded Danielle meekly, bowing to Cosima as she took her leave. The scientists stared at the woman until she disappeared behind a door on the other end of the room, but not before the bartender offered Cosima a mental note of apology followed by, I didn't know.
Cosima couldn't tell what Danielle meant– if she recognized they had "connected," or that there was something blossoming between the new co-workers. It didn't really matter. If anything, what mattered was if Danielle was aware that this woman was, in fact, Delphine Cormier.
"Uh… hey," muttered Cosima timidly, rubbing the back of her neck with an icy palm. "I didn't expect to see you here– doesn't seem your style."
Delphine turned back around quickly, facing the brunette with a puzzled expression. "What do you mean, 'my style,'" challenged the blonde tactfully, hands braced on her hips.
Opening her mouth in silent mortification at the offense splattered across Delphine's face, Cosima waved her hands in front of her attempting to convey a clear 'no.' "That's totally not what I meant, Delphine– seriously, I'm sorry– I just didn't see you as the type of person to venture off to gay bars in the middle of the night… NOT that doing, well, that, is a bad thing or whatever… I just didn't think you were, like, gay or anything, AND THERE'S NOT ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT EITHER. I just sorta made a shitty assumption and, like, I know there are stereotypes with what lesbians look like and that's fucked up because, like, people aren't just their sexuality… Unless you're not a lesbian, then I'm sorry– no, there's nothing wrong with being gay because 'hollah,' here I am, haha… ha… oh shit, I totally just word vomited all over you, I'm so sorry–"
Delphine didn't seem offended– at all… whatsoever. Which was a good sign, Cosima thought. In fact, the Parisian was red faced and adorably collapsing into fits of hearty laughter. It seemed warmer, to the vampire– the timber of the human's vocal chords creating a melody of pure pleasure through her body. Cosima felt her stomach clench uncomfortably as desire pooled between her legs. God, she was aching. How could this human– this irrevocably dangerous human– unravel her so effortlessly?
Delphine eventually caught her breath, the giggles pushed into a decrescendo to the back of her throat. Smiling, she tugged on the lapel of Cosima's red coat, admiring the wool fabric with pseudo curiosity. Delphine's nerves were shot, watching Cosima stumble over her own words, barely able to speak coherently, so afraid of offending the Parisian who wasn't even aware of the sexual connotation the bar carried. "You were rambling, Mon Amie… but, I was enjoying myself too much to…" Trying to find the right word, Delphine snapped her fingers determinedly. "–to interrupt!" Concluded the woman with a warm smile, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth habitually.
Cosima mirrored Delphine's expression, eyes crinkling with pure delight from the satisfaction of being in such satisfying company. "I, uh, sort of… ramble a lot. It's not my favorite extra-curricular activity, so feel free to interrupt next time? Maybe, uh, a little sooner?"
She was so close– Delphine. Gusts of warm breath tickling Cosima's slightly parted lips– egging her on to close the distance. 'Professionalism, Cosima… She's your fucking boss,' she warned herself. But really? Did she even care? Not enough, apparently.
The only thing warmer than Delphine Cormier's breath was her molten tongue.