Chapter Text
Some days, Scott could almost pretend they were back in Minnesota – days when the coughing fits were few and far between, when he could forget for one blessed second that the science was a matter of life or death. He’d close his eyes and imagine going home to his old apartment, tucked away on the fourth floor of a dusty old building, stacks of books and games cluttering every surface. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still smell the particular scent of the ancient building’s bones. It had been the first place to ever feel like his own.
Those were the good days. Other days, she was his crocodile – the ticking clock in her chest drowning out every other sound as he pushed himself harder, harder, harder. On those days, every movement, every breath was a new symptom. He counted the duration of each inhale and exhale, the minutes between sighs, the number of times her hand laid absently against her chest.
Scott did not count the consecutive hours he had been awake; it was the only variable he didn’t care to track.
Those crocodile days, he took her vitals almost every hour, despite her protests, and charted the results carefully. It was his job, self-appointed though it may be, to see the patterns in the numbers and predict their inevitable outcomes.
And so, of course, he saw it coming.
It had been happening more and more often lately. The first few bumps and trips had been easy enough to ignore, easy enough to write off as clumsiness or exhaustion from being awake for days at a time in the search for a cure, easy enough to go on pretending.
Until it wasn’t.
He wasn’t even sure how it happened. One moment, she was slamming her hand on the counter in frustration, pushing away from the computer screen and crossing the lab toward the bedroom. The next moment, she hit the ground hard, taking a flurry of papers and equipment down with her.
“Woah, Cosima, are you okay?” Scott was kneeling at her side in an instant as she pushed herself up to sitting, grimacing as the concrete floor dug deeper into her palms.
“Oh shit, you’re bleeding,” he whispered, reaching up to the desk for a tissue and pressing it gently to the glistening cut on her lower lip. Cosima winced at the pressure, immediately flashing a cheeky smile to cover it. She held up her shaking hands, palms forward, showing him the scrapes.
“These too.”
Scott shook his head in dismay. “Alright, hold on. I’ll go get the-“
“Scott,” she cut in, meeting his eyes for the first time. She grabbed the sleeve of his lab coat to stop him from standing, eyes brimming as she struggled to quell the shaking that threatened to take over.
“I-“
“I know,” he murmured, feeling the ache in his own chest as the first tears slid down his lab partner’s face, suddenly devoid of its usual mischievous grin. He wrapped his arms around her as she finally let herself collapse, staining his white coat with blood and mascara. They couldn’t deny it any longer - she was being betrayed by the cells they spent every day probing for answers. He made no effort to stop his own tears as they trickled onto her head from above. If he couldn’t save her… no, don’t go there.
Cosima stayed wrapped in Scott’s arms long after the tears had stopped, breathing in the dust that permeated the lab and the heady scent of his aftershave. The light from the tiny, garden-level windows turned a deep burgundy and then faded. Maybe we can just stay like this.
“Cosima…” He finally broke the silence. “I know you don’t want to think about this yet. I don’t either. I want to stay down here and work harder and collect more samples and just – something!” He broke off, rubbing a frustrated hand through his hair. “Something that will finally work. I’ve never felt more inadequate in my life. But we can’t ignore what’s happening anymore. What if this had happened when you were here alone?” His voice shook with the last question.
“I’m fine, Scott, it’s just a couple scrapes.” She brushed away his concern with a wave of her hand.
“You know damn well that’s not what I mean.” He looked at her pointedly. She stared back, looking intently into his auburn eyes as she slowly brought her hand to his face – and tweaked his nose, hard.
“Ow!” Scott gaped for a moment as Cosima collapsed into laughter, eventually crumpling alongside her as the tension from their conversation began to drain from his body, shaking the cobwebs from his cramped limbs.
“Alright, alright,” he wheezed, wiping tears of hysterical relief from his face. “I’m starving. I’m pretty sure everything can wait ‘til after pizza. Yes?” he asked.
“God yes,” she laughed, letting him pull her up to standing. “That’s the best idea either of us has had all week.”
*
“Cos! You down here?” Sarah clumped down the stairs, thick leather boots announcing her presence as they thumped against each tread. “Bloody hell, why’s it so dark? Hellwizard said-“
“I’m over here.” Sarah heard a small voice from across the room. “Just didn’t feel like turning on the lights.”
Something in the sound of Cosima’s voice stilled Sarah’s hand on the light switch. Instead, she pulled out her phone, illuminating a tiny radius of laboratory around her as she picked her way across the room, concentrating hard on not knocking into any important equipment.
“Christ, Cos, this comic shop’s gettin’ to you. You’re like a supervillain in your lair back here,” Sarah grumbled cheekily. Cosima’s glazed eyes slid slowly upwards to meet her gaze. Sarah’s tone immediately changed to concern.
“Shit. What happened?” She nudged Cosima’s legs over enough to squeeze onto the couch next to her. A movie played quietly on Cosima’s laptop, illuminating her face with flashes of blue light.
“Nothin’” Cosima slurred as Sarah scooted in close. Sarah stared at her intently for a moment before gently putting a hand on her knee and pressing into Cosima’s side, both of them facing the laptop screen.
“Doesn’t sound like nothin’,” she said quietly, staring carefully at the screen as her stomach began to twist around itself. She didn’t mention the half-empty bottle of whiskey that sat next to the computer, though the knot in her gut gave a violent jerk – in all the time she’d known Cosima, she’d only ever seen her drink red wine.
“I didn’t know you were coming over, dude” Cosima started, tugging absently at the sleeve of her sweater.
“Yeah, I dunno – thought I’d come check on you. That a problem?” Sarah was still trying hard not to look at Cosima, knowing her gaze would only make it harder for her to spit out whatever was so clearly wrong. She drummed her fingers on her thighs as her stomach twisted even tighter.
“No, it’s fine, obvs,” Cosima responded, drawing out the last ‘s’ for a few seconds. Her eyes were glazed over - Sarah wondered if she even remembered which film she’d put on. The thought was more than she could bear.
“Alright, Cos.” Sarah slammed the laptop closed, flicking on the lamp behind the couch. Cosima covered her eyes and whined petulantly. “I can’t do this all bloody night. What the hell is goin’ on?”
Cosima was silent for a long moment, keeping her hand over her eyes. “Fine,” she murmured finally, draining the last of her glass and dropping it onto the coffee table with a thud. She spun one of the rings on her finger absentmindedly.
“Sarah-“ Cosima’s voice cracked and she paused again, mouthing words without sound. Finally, she reached over and took one of Sarah’s hands in her own. Sarah closed her eyes at the contact, trying to will her heart out of her throat and back into her chest where it belonged.
“Okay. Okay. I really didn’t know you were coming over tonight…I was going to tell you tomorrow, after I had a chance to deal with it. Process it, ya know?” Cosima swallowed. “I was going to be upbeat, be the geek monkey, make everything seem okay because I know how stressed out you are, and I know you’re not telling us everything and that scares me, because we had no idea Beth was as bad as she was until she was gone.” She could feel herself rambling, words tumbling into the space between them on the warm current of whiskey in her veins.
“I know you take this all on yourself, Sarah. You’ve appointed yourself our protector, all of us, and we love you for it. But there’s nothing you can do this time. And I know how hard that is for you.” She squeezed Sarah’s hand then, meeting her eyes for the first time. In the lamplight, Sarah caught sight of the still-healing cut on Cosima’s lip. She raised a finger towards the wound, letting it fall back into her lap before making contact.
Cosima took another shaky breath, glancing away before continuing. “Yeah, that. I, uh… I fell, a few days ago. It’s been happening a lot. Scott saw it this time...” she trailed off, cursing as her eyes filled again. Sarah’s hand was shaking in her grasp, her eyes trained hard on Cosima, lips pressed into a taut line.
“We ran some tests. It’s spreading, Sarah,” Cosima whispered, lower lip trembling as she fought to hold back tears. She swiped at her eyes in frustration. “It’s, ah- it’s spreading outwards from the source now. My lungs are pretty stable, but some of the polyps are starting to press on my spinal cord. That’s why my feet keep getting tangled up…I’m starting to lose sensation in them.” She finished quickly, forcing the words out before crumbling.
Silence. Cosima gathered herself enough to finally turn towards her clone, looking for her reaction. Sarah said nothing, heard nothing but a loud pounding in her ears. Her blood turned to ice water and began to drown her, filling her nose and throat as she gasped for air, clawing at the back of the couch. She felt Cosima’s hands on her face, saw Cosima’s lips moving in front of her, begging her to breathe, but heard nothing.
*
It was clear from the set of her shoulders as she set the phone down that something was wrong.
“Honey? Who was that?” Donnie frowned as Alison shrugged off his outstretched hand. She kept her back to him as she smoothed the crisp collar of her shirt and slowly straightened each of her pearl stud earrings, fighting to control the race of her heartbeat. She rounded on him suddenly, struggling to keep any trace of emotion out of her face as Donnie sputtered. He rubbed his eye where her ponytail had whipped him.
“That was Scott.” The words fell neatly between them, clipped like coupons from the Sunday paper. “He was calling with an update about Cosima.” Alison moved past Donnie and set about busily tidying the already spotless craft room.
“And?” Donnie prodded cautiously. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” Alison retorted, rearranging her multicolored craft scissors in their spinning stand. “Well, she’s alive. She’s– the polyps are spreading again. Apparently some of them are affecting her back and legs now. Oh, this doesn’t make any sense-“ She accosted a plastic drawer, neatly labeled ‘Cardstock’. “Why would anyone arrange these by size instead of by color?”
“Ali-“
“These really should be in the scrapbooking closet anyway, I don’t know why I didn’t-“
“Alison.” Donnie tried again.
“What, Donnie, what?” She rounded on him with fire in her eyes. “What do you want?”
“I’m just worried that you’re not letting yourself process this, honey.” Donnie took a step towards her and froze, watching the look of panic growing in her eyes at his approach. “I mean, the disease is spreading, Cosima’s getting sicker, we still don’t know where Delphine is, this stuff is -” he trailed off, taking another few steps towards her as Alison deflated in front of him.
“…Heavy.” He finished quietly as Alison let herself be enfolded in his arms.
“I know.” She allowed herself to sigh, shoulders slumping into Donnie’s embrace. Opening her eyes suddenly, she stared over Donnie’s shoulder, seemingly lost in thought. She shook off his arms suddenly as she moved past him out into the basement living room, eyes slowly roving over every inch, calculating.
“Alison…?” Donnie paused in the doorway to the craft room, deeply concerned with the sudden shift in her reaction.
“Donnie, get Helena and the kids ready,” Alison chirped suddenly, her tone significantly brighter as she turned towards him. “We’re going out.”