Shay-Delphine AU | *sigh*

[machkame]

The onset of consciousness stalled against the glow that seared across Delphine's unprepared vision. With a groan, she buried her face into the pillow to ward off the trickle of information that filtered in through her stirring senses. The mattress dipped in front of her. A hand smoothed back her hair. Lips pressed to her temple.

"It's still early," said Shay in a hush. "You can go back to sleep."

Delphine hummed agreement in her throat.

"I'm sure Cosima's still asleep," added Shay, rubbing Delphine's shoulder. Her voice projected amusement--Delphine could picture Shay's smile. The image tugged at the corners of Delphine's mouth.

Then memory jolted Delphine up onto an elbow. "What time is it?"

Shay turned toward the analog clock in the kitchen. "Ah, around seven?"

Relief sapped the panicked tension from Delphine's muscles. With a sigh she covered her eyes and pushed back her hair. 

Shay, swaddled in the fluffy robe, eyed Delphine with concern and rubbed Delphine's hip through the blankets. "You okay?"

Delphine managed a wan smile. "Yes. I have to get up. I almost forgot." She stifled a yawn. "I didn't hear your alarm." She assessed the robe. "Or the shower."

Shay offered a lopsided smile. "You were tired."

Delphine swallowed moisture into her throat. "Yes." She squinted at Shay. "We went to bed at the same time. Aren't you tired?"

Under Shay's intent direction, stray strands of hair rejoined the mass behind Delphine's ear. "I can function on a solid six hours of sleep--and I bet my day wasn't as long as yours."

Delphine hummed, a sound that was neither confirmation nor denial, stretched for her phone, and dashed off a quick message to Cosima.

To Cosima [07:14]: Do you wish to attend the meeting?

Waiting on a response, Delphine lowered the phone and summoned a heartier smile. "Good morning."

Amusement answered in Shay's smile. "Good morning."

The curve of Shay's mouth presented an invitation. Before Delphine could reach out, her phone buzzed.

Duty calling.

From Cosima [07:14]: Yes. Swing by to pick me up?

"You were wrong about Cosima. She's awake." Delphine rubbed at an eye. "At least one of us remembered there's an important meeting today." 

To Cosima [07:15]: Yes. Let me get ready.

Delphine tossed the phone onto the mattress, buried a hand in her hair, had an unpleasant impression of last night's autopsy activities suffused into each strand, and paused. "Do you mind if I wash my hair?"

Shay laughed and tugged at the end of a wavy lock. "Of course you can wash your hair. I'm not sure if you'll like the products I have, though."

"I trust your discretion more than that of my exes," Delphine said, throwing off the blankets and swinging out of bed.

"I don't know," Shay said, watching Delphine cross around the end of the bed. "Men might have the opportunity to be less discerning since they get fewer choices. Generally."

Delphine smiled and, as she passed by, dropped a kiss upon the crown of Shay's head. "That may be true. But I don't think I'll have objections."

*

Delphine leaned out of the bathroom and, over the roar of a fan funneling heated air, declared, "I'm going to get you a new hairdryer."

"What's wrong with that one?" Shay demanded to a retreating Delphine who took any explanation with her.

Shay shook her head and resumed eating her breakfast of granola. Of all the things Shay had surmised might be objectionable--the shampoo and conditioner options, the water pressure or softness, the showerhead model--the hairdryer hadn't registered on her radar as potentially problematic. Moreover, she hadn't predicted how comfortable it would feel, though it had never yet occurred, to be interrupted mid-bite by Delphine poking out of the bathroom to cast aspersions on the performance of her bathroom hardware.

A knock at the door disrupted Shay's amusement. She rested her spoon upon the edge of the bowl and checked the door. 

"Hey," said Cosima.

"Hey," echoed Shay. "Delphine isn't ready yet."

Cosima's smile stiffened. "I--didn't know she was here. Though that makes sense."

"Uh, yeah. She's here," Shay said, with a touch of hesitation. "Delphine said that she told you about us."

"She did." Cosima crossed her arms. "She looped you in immediately, huh?"

"It's more like I was still up when Delphine dropped you off last night."

"Really?" Cosima wondered, eyebrow quirking up. "Delphine was going to, like, literally drop me off, but there was an open parking spot right out front. What were the chances?"

Shay leaned against the door. "Are you trying to suggest that it was fate?"

Cosima shrugged, innocence wafting off her lifted shoulders.

Shay grinned  "Well, if fate is the person who works night shifts and gets the premium parking spot out front when everyone leaves in the morning and then leaves it for anyone who's coming in late at night--then, yes."

Cosima laughed. "Are you serious or making that up?"

Shay shrugged. "I haven't met whoever it is, but it's the silver Honda Civic." They exchanged smiles. "You want to come in and wait for Delphine?"

Cosima hesitated. "Delphine isn't walking around naked?"

"No, she's dressed."

Cosima lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? You sure? I don't want to, like, surprise her. I mean, she's given me examinations but I don't think she'd appreciate becoming the spectacle." Cosima paused, eyes reading Shay. "Is it a spectacle?"

"She's dressed," Shay repeated, curt. "Get in here."

Cosima grinned as she brushed past. "You're blushing."

"I have a sense of decency," Shay retorted, but with a helpless smile. "Do you want something to eat or drink?"

"What time do you have to go?" Cosima asked, glancing toward the bathroom from which the keen of the hairdryer emanated.

"About eight o'clock," Shay said. "Enough time to make a cup of tea or give you a cereal bar while you wait for Delphine."

Cosima swung her attention back to Shay. "Do you have, um, English Breakfast?" 

"You need caffeine?" Shay asked. She added, in a gentler tone and with a gesture toward the table, "Did you sleep last night?"

"I slept," Cosima said mildly, moving as directed.

Shay put the kettle on the burner and pulled down a mug. Reaching into the tea tin, Shay paused. "Wait, you said that you didn't know that Delphine was here."

Cosima hummed a confirmation, one socked foot tucked up against the opposite thigh upon her seat.

Shay held her next question until she added boiling water to the mug and brought it to Cosima. "Do you need anything? Is there something you want to talk about?"

Cosima shrugged, wrapping her hands around the warmth of the mug. "I can't drop in on my neighbor to say good morning?"

"You can," Shay said, taking a seat and retrieving her bowl.

Cosima tugged at the tea bag string. Wispy tendrils curled away from the bobbing bag and deepened the stain of the water. "Well. Good morning."

Shay grinned. "Good morning."

Cosima nodded. "I was thinking . . ."

"Yeah?" Shay asked before spooning a bite into her mouth.

"About dualism," Cosima said. "The idea that there's the body and the soul. We talked a little about it before, but . . . you didn't say where you come down on that."

Shay nodded slowly and swallowed. "I guess I didn't."

"No, you didn't," concurred Cosima. She swirled the tea bag in a circle. Shay took another bite. "I held a brain in my hands yesterday."

Shay stopped chewing momentarily to prevent inhaling bits of granola.

Cosima continued, hands grappling with an invisible object the size of a small melon, "On one hand, it's, like, amazing that this organ--this collection of synapses with workings and divisions that remain a mystery to us--is the chamber of our thoughts and the command center of the whole machinery that's our bodies. Like, holding one, I started to wonder if I could, like, plug it in and provide nutrients and oxygen, and if it could, like, live again. But even if that were possible, what kind of existence would that be like without being able to interpret outside stimuli? Just a voice thinking to itself? And what even is that? Why do we hear a voice in our heads? Do other animals experience that? Do dogs think to themselves in unvocalized barks? How do other animals conceptualize the world? 

"But, like, if we're the only ones like this," Cosima leapt to the next thought, expression teetering toward ambivalent, "it's not hard to see why humans came up with the concept of the soul--this additional part to us, our personality or whatever, that resides inside the flesh and bones. That . . . awareness. Something that can transcend the body."

Shay nodded along.

"I guess," Cosima said quietly, glancing first at the bathroom door and then at Shay, "even though I said it wasn't at the top of my list, I started thinking about what happens after we die."

Shay rested her spoon against the edge of the bowl. "Did you reach any conclusions?"

Cosima shrugged. "I remember you said--well, you said that you stopped believing in heaven and hell. Meaning . . . you considered it possible at some point. What made you stop?"

Shay sighed, pushing her breath out of her nose. "I stopped believing in God." She brushed her hair back. "The omnipotent, all-knowing one. I stopped thinking that there could be a supreme moral authority, one that could determine an objective good or an objective evil."

Cosima's eyebrows crinkled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that there are things that people do that one group will uphold as heroism and another group will denounce as deplorable," Shay said, "and it comes down to perspective--and how could a supreme being objectively take one side or the other--or how could a supreme being take both sides and be 'Right,' with a capital R? Too many circumstances are like that."

Surprise spilled across Cosima's gaze, but, eyes narrowing to pounce, she drew a breath. 

"The problem is," Delphine called. They both turned in their seats toward her voice. Delphine, stepping out of the bathroom, stopped mid-declaration and said, "Cosima. Hello."

"Hey." Cosima swept her gaze over Delphine. "That's not yesterday's outfit."

"It's not," confirmed Delphine.

Cosima pressed a knuckle to her mouth. "Way to be ahead of the curve, Dr. Cormier."

"I took your advice the first time," Delphine said lightly.

Cosima jerked back minutely, lips shaping the outlines of unvocalized words.

"Shall we go?" Delphine suggested while Cosima was preoccupied.

"No coffee before you leave?" wondered Shay. "There's a mug on the counter, next to the press."

Delphine hesitated, eyes straying toward the counter. Her mouth slipped on a smile. "If we're not keeping you here, then yes, thank you."

"Yeah, join us," Cosima said, lips stretching into a wide smile, tapping at the side of her mug.

Delphine did, claiming the stool on the other side of the table.

Shay looked between the two of them. A prickling sensation swept across her skull with the realization that Cosima might pick up their truncated conversation and it could spiral, for the next fifteen minutes or so, into a three-way discussion. Shay had no idea how the conversation might play out.

The three of them had never carried out an in-depth discussion.

That couldn't be right. 

Shay scanned her memory. The three of them didn't gather frequently, but the occasions always held conversation. But Shay's gut churned with the anxiety that sprang up at the edge of untested waters. Because while the three of them always spun conversation, it had been of the light variety, sometimes dancing, as if buoyed to stay afloat and above topics best untouched.

Cosima eyed Delphine. "What's the problem?"

"What?" Delphine asked, bewilderment in her eyes.

Shay smiled, relieved at the bypassed opportunity, shuffling away the acute awareness that the change in topic was probably deliberate. "My hairdryer."

"What's wrong with your hairdryer?" Cosima asked. "It sounded like it was working."

"Don't ask me," Shay said.

"It doesn't maintain a consistent temperature," Delphine said, taking a sip.

"Your hair looks fine," Cosima said. "I don't notice any difference."

"Maybe you can only see differences in my outfits," countered Delphine.

"I'm saying that if there were a notable difference, I would notice," Cosima said, unaffected. She turned to Shay. "Would you notice if a coworker came in wearing the same outfit two days in a row?"

Shay nodded. "Probably."

"Well," Delphine said, crossing her forearms upon the table and tossing a smile at Shay, "of course, I would want Shay to notice me."

A momentary silence descended upon the table. Cosima looked to Shay. Shay, after a blank second, smiled at Delphine, shaking her head a little. Delphine's smile widened into a cheerful grin.

"You're blushing," Cosima remarked to Shay.

Shay risked a glance at her friend and caught the light of mischief that shone in Cosima's eyes: Cosima and Shay knew that this time any blush wasn't on account of Shay's sense of decency.

*

The mugs and bowl were dumped in the sink shortly before eight o'clock and the three of them headed out in a huddle. Emerging into another brisk day, they collectively paused and milled near the entrance. Cosima and Shay exchanged goodbyes. Shay turned to Delphine to bid her the same farewells, but Delphine preempted her, asking lowly, "I'll see you later, maybe?"

Shay's mouth curved with a hint of amusement. "I think that depends more on your day than mine."

"I'll call you," Delphine said in agreement, "or text you."

Shay nodded. "Okay. Have a good day."

Delphine smiled. "You, too."

Delphine leaned in and, when Shay turned to offer her cheek, gently redirected Shay with a touch upon Shay's jaw. The meeting of their lips was light but lingered for a second beyond quick or furtive. Delphine pulled away with a smile. Shay reached up, fingers skimming Delphine's lips, and studied Delphine, eyes channeling the crisp edge of the Canadian winter in consideration or admonishment.

Then Shay pinched Delphine's face between her fingers. Delphine started with surprise.

Shay's hand dropped to pat lightly over Delphine's heart. Through a smile, Shay murmured, "Bye."

Delphine's lips mirrored Shay's. "Ciao."

Shay and Cosima traded waves and the two parties separated in opposite directions. 

In Delphine's car, silence reigned over the occupants as the engine warmed, the windows defrosted, and the cabin heated up. When Delphine eased the vehicle onto the road, Cosima's mouth began to motor.

"So," Cosima said, resolute on the view of the road, "I guess you're cool with PDA."

"PDA?"

"Public displays of affection."

Delphine squinted at the road. "Is it considered unacceptable here?"

The Hollywood media Delphine had seen didn't suggest being affectionate in public was odd.

"No," Cosima said, her voice shaped by a frown. "I was just making an observation about you. Unless, you know, all that was about sending a message, in which case, yeah, I got it."

Delphine couldn't help it--she laughed. "There was no message."

No message for Cosima, at any rate. One for Shay, perhaps. Besides, Delphine hoped, the obvious one--that all overtures of affection were expressions of her genuine regard for Shay. That Delphine felt no compunction to hide or need for restraint. Not even in front of Cosima. Although--

"Were you offended?" Delphine asked.

"What? No," Cosima said sharply, sounding offended. "Why would I be offended?"

Delphine lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Maybe you don't like public displays of affection."

"I'm fine with public displays of affection," said Cosima, voice firm.

"Okay," Delphine said carefully. "But you didn't expect me to feel the same?"

"It's not like I ever saw you and Leekie holding hands," Cosima muttered.

Delphine's breath caught behind her teeth.

"Well, I guess it was a clandestine workplace romance," Cosima said, tone taking on shades of conciliation.

What might Cosima be sorry for? For being right? For taking the swipe? For speaking ill of the dead?

Aldous was dead.

According to Marion Bowles.

"Do you think Aldous is dead?" Delphine asked.

The silence that greeted the question magnified the beats of Delphine's pulse in her ears.

"I don't see why they'd lie about that," Cosima said with calculated neutrality.

"Do you think they . . . made it happen?" Delphine asked.

"Leekie wasn't . . . young," Cosima said with a degree of caution. "The obituary said that he died of a heart attack. What do you think?"

"I think if they wanted him out of the way, they have ways to accomplish that," Delphine said. Her conviction in the DYAD's (and Topside's) will and willingness frightened her. 

Cosima nodded. "Yeah. Funny that they never mention that form of termination in their employment contract."

Delphine didn't have the heart to put on a snicker at the macabre joke.

Cosima looked over uneasily. "Do you--do you miss him?"

Delphine's features pinched downward. "What do you mean?"

"Well, like, you two were close . . ."

Delphine rolled in her lips and bottled a sigh. "There was . . . no love lost between Aldous and me." Delphine wasn't sure respect had even remained between them. The thought sowed a seed of sadness, that a man she had once admired had fallen so far in estimation that his demise hit her not as a loss but as a cautionary tale. "I stopped being useful to him. I suppose that was all that mattered." 

"You're still useful," Cosima said.

"I don't know if, all things considered, that can be evaluated as objectively true," admitted Delphine. "If it was ever true."

"You're useful to me," Cosima said.

Delphine's lips ran ahead of her thoughts. "I'm not sure how much weight that carries."

"Aw, c'mon, dude," griped Cosima. "Sure, I'm no Leekie, but give me some credit. I got the DYAD to give me my own lab and then bargained for a better one with Marion. If I want you around, I'll keep you around."

Delphine drove in silence. Delphine suspected neither of them believed that Cosima, as singular as she was as a subject who independently developed the capability and interest to study herself, wielded that degree of authority. But after a moment, digesting the sentiment of Cosima's bravado, Delphine said, "Thank you."

Cosima waved away the gratitude. "Yeah, well, I don't want to have to tell Shay what happened. Because I'd have to be the one to tell her. Assuming I didn't go down with you."

Delphine had no reply. She had been thinking along the same lines, that Cosima would have to bear the news--or no one would at all. Because if something befell Delphine, one day she would be there and the next--gone. No contact. No warning. No word. Perhaps no body. 

Was it unfair to harbor knowledge of her own potential demise and cultivate a relationship with Shay? And yet the thought that consumed Delphine was that Shay suspected that in some way Delphine would break Shay's heart--and everything in Delphine rebelled against becoming that perpetrator. To leave Shay in the moment was to break Shay's heart without question, whereas the future--outcomes good or bad--remained unknowable and undetermined.

Was her situation much different from dating a soldier, as circumstances might have been for Delphine had Shay's life drifted down alternate currents? Delphine almost laughed, darkly, at herself. The comparison stretched in every direction to grasp at rationalization. If Shay had hunkered into the army, Shay may not have come to Toronto to facilitate their meeting, Shay may not have become the person Delphine knew now. And even if Shay were engaged in a dangerous profession, Delphine would know what the work entailed, the possibilities, the worries, the unwritten contract. 

Shay didn't know the risks of Delphine's present.

(And if breaking Shay's heart was inevitable, was it better to do so now than later?)

"Would you tell Shay if . . . if something happened to me?" Delphine wondered.

Cosima's answer stewed in a pause. "I guess."

"What would you tell her?" 

Cosima tugged on the strap of the seatbelt. "I--I don't know. Depends on the . . . circumstances."

"Would you tell her the truth?" Delphine asked.

"What? You mean like--about Project Leda, about me, about you and the, the--" Cosima gestured helplessly. "--illegal experimentation, the back door deals, all of it?"

Delphine's fingers tightened around the steering wheel. "Should I tell Shay about these things now--before you might have to?"

"Whoa," Cosima said, "wait, what? Are you--are you serious?"

"So you think I should not tell her?" Delphine said.

"Well . . . I don't think even spies tell their spouses that they're spies."

"So you would not tell her if--if you were in my position?" Delphine paused. "If you were dating Shay?"

"I don't know, dude, that's--that's a lot of info to dump on someone."

"You told Scott."

"Because he's involved," Cosima said.

"But dating you would not qualify as being involved?" Delphine asked, risking a glance at Cosima.

Cosima turned her face toward the passenger window. "I didn't want to date Shay."

"I see," Delphine replied, voice even.

"I'm not saying that Shay isn't dateable," Cosima added, a hint of haste in her tone, "or that I wouldn't date her--"

"Cosima," Delphine interjected, voice terse, "I understand." Delphine sucked at her lower lip. "You wouldn't tell her."

Cosima's voice fell. "I guess not."

"So I shouldn't tell Shay," concluded Delphine.

"Well, that's your choice," Cosima hedged.

"But if you would not tell her, then why should I?"

"Hey, don't lay this on me," Cosima objected with a sharp look. 

Delphine shook her head. "What I mean is . . . this is your secret. Even if I don't mention you directly, Shay could probably make the connections to you. She knows you're my patient. She knows we work together." Delphine wet her lips. "I don't think I can tell her anything unless--unless you're okay with Shay knowing."

"Dude, I just told you not to lay this on me."

"You don't mind if Shay knows?"

Cosima shook her head. Not denial or affirmation, but frustration. "Why do you want to tell her? It makes you look bad--you realize that, right? You didn't come into this as one of the good guys."

"Shay knows that I--that I'm ambitious, that I will pursue knowledge and find answers, that I want to be on the forefront of science. She will understand the decisions I made." The last bit sounded like an attempt to convince herself. Delphine struggled against a frown. "The situation is different now."

A look to Cosima for confirmation revealed her passenger turned away.

"It's different now," Delphine tried again, more cautiously, "isn't it?"

Cosima gave a small shake of her head that Delphine glimpsed as a shiver through her dreadlocks. "Then what's the point in telling her, if it's all different now?"

"Isn't it better if I disclose it?"

"Better than what?"

Delphine gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Than if something happens to me and Shay starts asking questions."

"Well . . . look at the big picture," said Cosima. "Learning about everything, in whatever circumstances, is probably going to affect how Shay looks at you. Participating in an illegal human experiment isn't a good look. To someone like Shay, anyway. Or so I assume." Cosima waved a limp hand. "That's . . . how it reads to me."

They were quiet through several agreeable traffic light signals.

"So," Delphine said softly, "you would rather Shay not know?"

"Dude," Cosima scoffed, "I don't even think she would believe you."

"You might be right," Delphine allowed. "It does sound like . . . science fiction. She would probably need proof . . . or someone to corroborate the story." 

Cosima shook her head. Simply shook her head. About a block later, Cosima said, "You know there's another option. One where you don't tell Shay--and you don't date her. Not now, anyway."

Delphine's fingers clenched and relaxed. "Is that why you didn't want to date Shay?"

Cosima chuckled, the reverberations dark. "Are you asking me that as Shay's girlfriend or are you asking me as my monitor?" Cosima rubbed at her temple. "I didn't want to date her. I was going for something casual. No frills, no attachments, everyone gets something, we don't pry into each other's lives, and no one gets hurt." Cosima shrugged. "It's not like I have time for more right now. Not that it matters--Shay wasn't into that plan."

Delphine swallowed and steadied herself with a deep breath. "Do you think Rachel Duncan knows about Aldous?"

"That he's dead?"

"No. About what he did, in regard to her parents."

Cosima took her time formulating an answer. "Rachel and Professor Duncan have a lot of catching up to do. He'll inform her if she doesn't know."

"Do you think she could have accepted Aldous as her guardian if she had known?" Delphine wondered aloud.

"Why don't you ask her?" Cosima said, turning a bland eye on Delphine. "But . . . it's not like she had much of a choice whether to stay or go. Where would she have gone?"

Choice. Aldous purported that the subjects chose their monitors, but it was a matter of choosing which monitor rather than no monitor at all. Not that the clones were aware of the hidden terms of those interactions. Ultimately none had had a choice about whether or not they participated.

Shay wasn't a subject. And Delphine was not her monitor.

But Delphine's mind couldn't help but equate the situations. Was this how the other monitors had felt hiding ulterior motives? Had monitors cared enough for their wards that they'd felt conflicted?

It didn't have to be like that. For the monitors, who could have chosen to reveal themselves. For Delphine with Shay, with the truth brushing up always so close to the surface. But Delphine understood why it felt like the inevitable path. It was easy to feel like she had no choice in the matter. 

But Delphine did.

She had to choose. Everyday now she would have to choose.

*

With their bewilderment tucked behind polite smiles and rigid posture, the eyes of the restaurant staff passed over the spectacle of elements that paraded through the door: the suited men who marched in and canvassed the space with unimpeded authority, the casual disregard and unmindfulness of Marion Bowles to the activity of her men poking into the kitchen and beyond, the contrast between everyone's attire and Professor Duncan's outdated ensemble, and the aimless milling of Cosima and Delphine. 

A man in chef's whites had embraced Marion the moment she entered and the two stood in close conference. Delphine and Cosima took up a post against the wall out of everyone's way in a manner that made Delphine feel solidarity with the restaurant staff awaiting instruction. At least they had a role to play. Delphine felt little more than decorative. 

If Cosima felt the same, she didn't show it. This reunion could mark the end of their access to Professor Duncan. It would only require Rachel convincing her father to work with her, as father and daughter, righting a wrong started with a fire. Perhaps that was why Cosima desired to be present. Maybe she hoped to mitigate any temptation to lure away Professor Duncan--or, barring that, to suss out the warning signs that yet another bargain had been poorly struck.

Maybe Cosima also felt curious.

Delphine was curious. 

Wasn't curiosity always the goad?

Rachel Duncan did not keep them waiting. She appeared quiet and unaccompanied in the door. The room stilled and hushed. All eyes settled on Rachel.

Rachel beheld Professor Duncan.

Father and daughter made no move toward one another. 

They were strangers, or more remote than that, two people joined by an assumed connection, but now uncertain--and afraid--to prove the assumption a fantasy.

Marion stepped forward and held an arm out to Rachel in encouragement. Rachel took the smallest of steadying breaths, shoulders setting back, chin rising, and stepped forward. Professor Duncan dared a step in answer. He held out his hands. Arms rising as if against unseen resistance, Rachel put her hands in his. Professor Duncan's fingers cupped her hands as if a butterfly had fluttered between his palms and bowed his head. His grip tightened. 

Neither spoke.

Marion shepherded the pair to a table in the back corner where she granted them a bubble of solitude. Stepping away, Marion gestured for Cosima and Delphine to join her at a table outside of earshot. Marion chose a seat that allowed her to observe the table unobstructed. Cosima, following Marion's cue, claimed the next best viewing perch. Delphine took the seat beside Cosima. All around them, the suited men settled into positions at tables with good sight lines to the exits and of the pedestrian and street traffic through the windows. 

The wait staff shuffled into action. Water and coffee, along with cream and sugar, were doled out to anyone who cared for a beverage. Menus were brought to Marion's table.

The menu rested between Delphine's limp fingers as her mind grappled with what was transpiring.

"Order, if you like," Marion said. "They don't officially serve breakfast, but the kitchen is stocked with eggs and their bread is baked daily and lovely."

"Yeah," Cosima muttered, "I noticed they don't open until lunch hours."

Delphine hadn't noticed.

Marion maintained a casual surveillance of the pair in the corner.

"Did you choose that table for appearances?" Cosima asked, her gaze alternating between Marion and the father-daughter pair bent in close conversation. "Is the table bugged?"

The smile stole across Marion's lips quick and wide. "Is that what you would have done?"

"If I were in your shoes . . . having set up the meeting and chosen the location . . ." Cosima's eyebrows twitched. "I would have considered it. Who knows what secrets they might be spilling to one another?"

Marion's smile hovered in place. "The table is not bugged. They have their privacy."

Cosima sat quiet. Contemplative. "You could be lying."

Marion nodded, unperturbed. "I could be."

"Was it really a heart attack that got Leekie?" Cosima asked. "A naturally occurring one, I mean."

"Like you," Marion said, meeting Cosima's eyes briefly, "I am privy only to what is detailed in the obituary."

"Come on," Cosima scoffed, "you can't expect me to believe that."

"What makes you say that?" Marion said. "What is it that you think happened to Aldous Leekie?"

"A hit job," Cosima said without hesitation.

Marion appeared stunned for a second.

Cosima waved a hand. "Let's not pretend that DYAD doesn't eliminate nuisances as a standard operating procedure. Or Topside, or whatever you want to call yourself. I've gotten enough veiled and open threats to know you guys are ruthless."

Marion reached for the cup of coffee closest at hand, eyes on the corner table. "A natural course of events took Aldous."

"'Natural course of events' meaning . . . he screwed up and you--or whoever--buried him?"

Marion smiled to herself.

Delphine, sensing that the answer Cosima desired would never come, leaned forward. "Will this meeting mean any changes going forward?"

Marion sipped at the coffee. "I suppose if you prefer to return to the DYAD facilities, that's an option."

"What about Professor Duncan?" Delphine asked.

"What about Professor Duncan?" Marion parroted.

Delphine glanced to Cosima. Cosima peered back with uncertainty.

"What will happen to him?" Delphine hazarded.

"You'll have to ask him, I suppose," Marion mused. "Unless his decisions are not his own to make?"

After a moment, Cosima muttered, "Goddammit."

Delphine recognized Cosima's frustration in a heartbeat: To deny Professor Duncan autonomy of his life betrayed the terms of the clones' own fight against the DYAD. But to let Professor Duncan choose to work with Rachel and the DYAD, if that were his desire in the aftermath of this day, could unravel every effort they'd made to prevent the continuation of Project Leda under DYAD's direction. Yet the dilemma was simpler than a conflict of principles. The prospect of meeting Rachel Duncan had served as leverage to steer Professor Duncan toward their approach. Now that option was out of their hands. 

Which side Professor Duncan chose made no difference to Marion Bowles.

But this had been the price Ethan Duncan had set for his cooperation. There had been no preventing the course of these events.

"What does Rachel know?" Delphine asked softly.

Marion nodded absently. "We had a discussion about Aldous. She's eager to move on."

"With Leekie gone, who's in charge of Project Leda?" Cosima asked.

"According to Rachel, the board has not yet decided on a new director," Marion said.

"Rachel gets to choose?" Cosima asked, alarm pitching her voice high.

"Rachel has a say in the matter, yes."

"What about you?" Cosima demanded.

Marion shook her head almost imperceptibly. "I don't sit on the DYAD's board of directors. This is an internal company matter and as such will be left to their discretion, especially as it will be an internal promotion."

"You can't make a recommendation?" Cosima asked.

Marion smiled. "Is there someone you would have me recommend? Yourself, perhaps?"

Cosima hesitated but a second. "Yeah. Sure."

Marion's smile slipped into unkind. "You maneuvered around the DYAD in order to withhold key information from them. Even if they didn't conclude that you're too close to the Project to manage it, they have no reason to trust you with ensuring its future."

"I left the DYAD because Aldous Leekie couldn't be trusted--which, by the way, proved to be a good call. But," Cosima said with a careless shrug, "if not me, why not Delphine?"

"What?" Delphine gasped, looking at Cosima sharply.

"She's been with the DYAD, she knows what's up, and she recognized that Leekie was becoming a danger to Project Leda," Cosima listed. "She's young, but actually seeing how she's around our age--us being the subjects--she'll age with us."

Delphine stared at Cosima.

Marion assessed Delphine with a cool eye. "Dr. Cormier doesn't seem very interested."

Delphine struggled to find her voice. "I . . ." She pushed her hair back. "This was not something I've considered."

"It seems your horse has no inclination to drink, Cosima," Marion said softly. "Who will you suggest next? Scott Smith? Sarah Manning?"

Cosima raised a hand. "Forget Delphine's willingness, do you have any actual objections to her as a candidate?"

Marion leaned back in her chair, mouth amused. "She wouldn't be my choice, not least because she lacks the seniority and that, coupled with any disinclination on her part, could prove disruptive among the ranks. Not to mention her history with Aldous. Which was hardly secret."

Delphine resisted the reflex to sit up straighter. She hadn't yet settled the dust up of feelings raised by the notion of managing Project Leda, but it wasn't easy to hear Marion's blunt assessment of her eligibility.

Cosima's lips pressed into a thin line. She glanced away briefly, then said, "What about handing Project Leda back to Professor Duncan?"

"It was never his project," Marion said. "His and Susan Duncan's idea, perhaps, and sparked by their scientific breakthroughs, but it was never under their directorship, so to speak. They oversaw but a technical part of it."

Cosima shook her head. "Alright. Fine. Is there someone you think will be promoted?"

"If I were to guess--Alan Nealon," Marion said. "He has the exposure and the experience. He's long served as the chief geneticist of Project Leda."

Cosima shook her head. "I don't think I've met him."

"I have, briefly," Delphine said softly. Delphine remembered Dr. Nealon. Impersonal. Unpersonable. Single-minded. She could picture him stepping into the directorship.

Cosima raised an eyebrow at Marion. "Would he be your recommendation?"

"I've seen his work," Marion said, "but I'm not well acquainted with the man himself. However, considering his level of involvement, I can't imagine that he would alter the current course of Project Leda very much. That will likely be the board's priority in its considerations."

"So it'll be Leekie two-point-oh," muttered Cosima.

"Did you expect a change in that quarter?" Marion asked.

Cosima mulled. "I guess not."

"Yet you were willing to put yourself forward as a prospective candidate to be director," remarked Marion. "How would you oversee the Project? How would you secure its future? How would you handle rogue elements such as Sarah Manning or Beth Childs?"

Cosima lowered her gaze and fell silent.

If asked, Delphine doubted she'd have provided an answer, not any that would have been satisfactory. But Delphine suspected Cosima's: Neither Sarah Manning nor Beth Childs were rogue elements in these circumstances; DYAD was. 

Cosima glanced toward Rachel and Professor Duncan. "What about Rachel? She gets to make decisions that affect Project Leda? She's not too close to it?"

Marion's gaze breezed over Cosima. "Have you met Rachel?"

"We've met," Cosima said, meeting Marion's eyes through the top edge of her lenses.

"How would you assess her capability?"

"Our chat was short," Cosima said, "but to the point. All business." Cosima's eyebrows quirked. "Well. Almost. She seemed perfectly willing to sabotage me and a cure to get at Sarah." Cosima held Marion's gaze. "It's gotten personal for her."

"Who among us can say none of this is personal?" Marion said. "Investment drives each of us."

"Did you not hear the part about Rachel trying to sabotage our research?" asked Cosima. "That research being the cure that you're also looking for. You're okay with that?"

Marion didn't hesitate. "Sacrifice laid the foundation of this project. There have been countless difficult decisions."

"And if we Leda subjects go the way of the dinosaurs, that's fine," Cosima said, tone wrangled into an even keel, "because there'll always be the next iteration."

"In the larger scheme," Marion said, "yes. But, on a personal level, you know that I have good reason to not wish extinction on the Leda line. What's personal is not necessarily detrimental."

"What I'm saying is that I don't think that your personal and my personal are like Rachel's personal," Cosima said. "You and I, we're trying to fix mistakes. I don't know what Rachel wants."

Marion's gaze shifted toward the corner. "What are you suggesting? That, instead of you or Sarah, the threat to Project Leda's continued existence lies in Rachel? And yet . . . you could not offer a compelling case as to how you would shepherd and guard the Project's future. Whereas Rachel has lived within the rules and regulations of Project Leda her entire life."

"You know what they say about the quiet ones," Cosima said.

Marion smiled to herself. "Does the thought appeal at all to you of studying yourself and your sisters?"

"I'm studying all of us now," Cosima said, "to find a cure."

Marion's eyes cut across Cosima coolly, vestiges of amusement clinging to her features. Cosima shifted in her chair. Marion sipped her coffee and replaced the mug upon the table with care. "Charlotte asked if you might join us for dinner again. She very much enjoyed your company and is eager to reprise the experience. I think she may be brainstorming suggestions with the chef for the occasion."

The abrupt change in topic made Cosima hesitate. "I'm not sure I have the time these days. Or the means--I don't have a car."

"That's hardly an obstacle," Marion said. "The invitation is open. Let any of the staff know if you'd like to join us, and it will be arranged."

Cosima's mouth strained for a smirk. "I can't believe you're still in that house after--after what happened."

"You have yet to slip from the city."

Cosima's brow darkened with incredulity. "There's work to do. And for now, the work is here." 

Marion nodded. "Just so."

*