Hello Special, Goodbye Force Guardian!

Whoever dwells in the shelter of Orphan Black will rest in the shadow of Tatiana Maslany

[hi-scott-bye-scott]

Hi! I really loved your Cophine through time AU, it's really amazing! I hope I can read more soon :)!

Thank you very very much! I’m really glad you liked it!

I’m working on part two, don’t get your hopes too high though, it’s worth what it’s worth. 

[hi-scott-bye-scott]

Acts

Cophine through time AU, 2000ish words.

Set in Alexandria, round the middle of the fourth century, before the fall of the shrine of Serapis and the destruction of the Great Library.

-“My dear! You’re here at last.”

-“Yes, Father. Why did you need me?”

-“Come.”

He took her hands in his.

“You know that since your mother died, we’ve been struggling to keep our possessions organized. You’re very young to be dealing with the whole estate and I don’t wish to remarry; so I went to Ethan the Delian today and bought some slaves from the ones he just brought back with him. Take a look.”

Aldous gestured at the female slaves lined in front of him.

“There were more but I couldn’t afford the whole lot, and some of them had a wicked cough. I wasn’t willing to take the risk of having to make sacrifices to Asclepios for them to get better after my purchase. I left the damaged merchandise with Ethan. You should have seen the back of the blond one though because, immortal gods! It was not worth half a mina! Its first owners, Christians I reckon, had marked it all over. ..”

Delphine wasn’t listening to him, really.

“The male one had bad teeth.”

She took a step closer, observing.

“Ethan almost tricked me with the last two however. One, I could just smell trouble all over. It had some kind of intensity, you know. When Ethan told me it tried to run away already, I just dropped it off. Ethan tried to sell me its child too, like I’d be interested! But the other I would have bought, had I not noticed the scar behind its ear at the very last moment. The gods definitely were with me in the market place today!”

He chuckled. One of the three slaves flinched slightly.

-“And how do you plan on using them, father?”

-“Well one of them will be in charge of the cleaning, while I teach the other to run the expenses of the household.”

-“Why did you buy a third slave then? Two might have sufficed.”

-“That’s why I called you, actually, Delphine. Now that you are a young woman, I thought it was time for you to acquire a personal slave. Please, suit yourself.”

-“Oh, father, I don’t think I need a…”

“Don’t worry, child.”

Delphine took a closer look at the trio. They looked eerily similar, maybe they were of the same batch. It was hard to tell if their origin was Greek or Barbarian. The first one had short hair, the second held its hair tied in a neat ponytail, possibly a Thrace, and the third; the third had really peculiar hair, tied in tight braids Delphine had never seen. It could be Ethiopian, or it could something entirely new. Neothiopian, maybe? She smiled at herself. And, to her delight, the slave smiled back at her, a precious toothy smile.

“I’ll pick this one then. Does it have a name?”

“Not that I know of. That’s your slave, Delphine, your body; it’s your decision how you want to name it.”

“I’ll think about it then. Thank you, father, for your generosity.”

Aldous smiled. He sent the slave with a ponytail to the kitchen where it would be met with Scarf, the old maid that would show it how to achieve most of the housing chores. Then Aldous took the short-haired one with him, leaving Delphine and her personal slave alone in the garden.

She sat. The slave had watched its pairs go away with a little concern on its face. But soon enough, its gaze came back to her. It stared, curious, silent. At her hair, at her face, at the way her tunic flew from her shoulder to her waist. There was a certain depth in those eyes that made Delphine uneasy, suddenly.

“So, where are you from, slave?”

The slave didn’t answer.

“Do you understand Greek, slave?”

The slave didn’t answer either, though the hint of smile ghosted on its lips. Delphine was about to say something when she heard the calling sound of the third hour. It was time for her to attend her classes.

There was no rule that forbid bringing a slave at Hypatia’s. She thus dressed her smiling slave with a linen chiton and went directly to the Museion; Hypatia particularly enjoyed the building and had chosen to share her extensive knowledge of science and philosophy there. For the first time ever, Delphine came in late. Thankfully, the teacher didn’t stop for her arrival.

“It is a thing. What we learn from the Peripatetic school and their knowledge of the forms and secret motions of things, especially when it comes to wandering stars, is that celestial bodies are uncontrolled, incorruptible, unstirred, immortals and perfects, absolutely perfect, shape included. And this is the reason why their shape is a sphere, deprived of rough patches and any sort of unevenness, which makes them eternal.”

Delphine hang on Hypatia’s every word and remembered her own readings of Aristotle. A  Ptolemaic model of the universe, made of wood, leather and linen, sat in front of the students. Some of them were taking attentive notes, but not many. They usually chose to memorize the teacher’s words, as Delphine did. Fascinating. Hypatia was just about to continue on the matter of celestial bodies when a weird little laugh cut her off.

-“ Ἂτοπον· Ἐπιδεὶκνυ κοὺ λέγε τινὰ.

 Bullshit! Show, don’t tell. ”

 Delphine gaped. Her slave had just spoken. It didn’t speak Greek, or rather yes, it did, but not the Greek the blonde-haired woman was used too, not the Koinê of Alexandria.

She recognized the inflexions in its voice; The slave was a speaker of the old tongue! Its dialect seemed like Ionic but with bizarre additions and variations of Attic and Lesbic, and other patterns she didn’t even recognize.

Hypatia stared at the slave that stood there, moving its hands in haphazard ways that didn’t fit the canons of the actio praised by rhetors. It went on:

-“If the spherical shape indeed bestowed incorruptibility, uh, then every single body would be incorruptible because corruptibility would lay in the parts, developed in an unusual manner, that alter the sphere. In every dice hides an incorruptible sphere. Thus…”

When the class ended, before Hypatia could ask to talk with them, Delphine took her property by the arm and ran with it through the stone archs of the Museion. They crossed the entire city, right to the beach. Only there, they stopped.

“Sit.”

The slave obeyed. Delphine stayed up, facing the sea, thinking.

“How?”

"I was taught Homer when we where in Athens and then did some digging, but my Greek is poor, Δέσποινα."

Delphine turned back at the honorific title: her slave shrugged, unwilling to go on, visibly afraid of revealing to much.

"What is your story? Were you born free?"

"I have no story, this is my life, Δέσποινα."

Delphine hesitated, and turned her eyes to the sea once again. The sun was going down, she should go back to her home. There was no time to investigate the mysterious slave any further.

"I am Delphine of Alexandria, born of Aldous, blessed by the Archer. From now on, you shall not call me any other name. Do you have a name?"

The slave smiled sadly and, avoiding the question, said with a tinge of bitterness:

"Delphine. I am property. Everything I am, everything I become belongs to you."

Intrigued, the Alexandrian repressed the urge to reach for her slave and touch its cheek. She bit her lip. She understood how dangerous giving your true name to an enemy could be, and if the slave was more than it seemed...

"My father has the habit of calling his slaves nicknames. Scarf for example. If you do not give me a worthy nickname, you could find yourself bearing the name of Braid, Monkey or, I don't know, Cheek."

The smile didn't leave the slave's face. To get an answer, Delphine would have to change that.

"I am certain you can do better. Give it a thought. Show me again some of the skill you demonstrated in front of Hypatia and for which I could have punished you but did not. We will soon have to go back and I can still fetch a leather belt once home."

The slave looked at her, looked deep in her eyes, in an eager way. The way Hypatia looked at the stars. The way Delphine looked at the small creatures in her garden, thought she. Curious to know. And she said.

"Call me Cosima."

And indeed, Delphine felt this woman might very well be the start of a new order in her world.

[hi-scott-bye-scott]

I’m sorry and deeply apologize for making you sad.

Think of it this way:

Friday, Delphine cried and we all know why Delphine cries in bed.

Saturday, Cosima didn’t wake up. She slept in. Colorful dreams painted her eyelids, brushing off fears and worries. Delphine didn’t move, in fear…

[tinyflowercrown]

OKAY I TAKE EVERYTHING BACK. It evolved into something even more beautiful. I’m happy now. (of course we know why delphine would be crying)

[hi-scott-bye-scott]

I'm glad I could mend some of my wrongs.

[hi-scott-bye-scott]

Love your writing. Are you french ? Are you new ? Who are you ?

Thank you. I might be. I am not. I am one of a kind.

[hi-scott-bye-scott]

I'm sorry and deeply apologize for making you sad. 

Think of it this way:

Friday, Delphine cried and we all know why Delphine cries in bed.

Saturday, Cosima didn't wake up. She slept in. Colorful dreams painted her eyelids, brushing off fears and worries. Delphine didn't move, in fear of interrupting the peace of the moment. She looked at the face she loved and enjoyed this lazy time of shared safety.

Sunday, when Delphine woke up, it rained outside and a blanket stopped her from seeing the light. She realized Cosima had built a fort around their bed while she was asleep. She laughed and tried to suffocate the love of her life under a watershed of kisses. 

Sunday was a beautiful day indeed.

[hi-scott-bye-scott]

THAT COPHINE THINGY OH MY GOD ARE YPU TRIBG TO KILL ME MY HEART OMG

IM SORRY? I woke up to an empty bed and the shivers of a dream on my neck and I just needed to write this thing?

[hi-scott-bye-scott]

Monday, Cosima woke up to Delphine's fingers brushing the tiny hair growing on her temples.

Tuesday, Cosima woke up to Delphine scooting closer to her and kissing her earlobe.

Wednesday, Cosima woke up to Delphine snaking an arm around her waist.

Thursday, Cosima woke up to the smell of coffee. Delphine had woken up early. She brought her a croissant.

Friday, Cosima woke up to Delphine's tears.

Saturday, Cosima didn't.

Sunday, there was no sun for Delphine when she woke up.

[hi-scott-bye-scott]

Le Musée.

Continuation to Le Métro. Cophine.

Crowds. There were so many people in front of the glass pyramid of the Louvre that la ligne 1 seemed a joke in comparison. Delphine would have felt disheartened were it not for Cosima's gentle tug at her sleeve. She caught the American looking at her arched eyebrows from the corner of her eye.

- Do you have a labcoat somewhere in this pretty bag of yours?

- Pardon?

- You have your notes right here; that's your notes, right?

Cosima pointed to Delphine's chest and the blonde realised she was indeed clutching to her notes and fidgeting nervously with the corner of a paper.

- So I thought it was possible that maybe you would have brought your labcoat with you too, you know, since you're an immunologist.

The said immunologist nodded negatively. Her teacher hadn't requested any paraphernalia.

- Whatevs. We'll make it in anyway.

Delphine looked at the American, dumbfounded, while she put her suitcase down on the pavement, pigeons flying in panic all around. She opened it, it was a mess. Animated hands discarded patterned underwear, a pink phone, a box of colorful pen, shampoo and an incredible amount of random objects.

- Are you Mary Poppins?

- That's right, practically perfect in every way... There it is!

Smiling, she held a neatly folded labcoat in her hands. And she was beaming.

- Hum, yes, Cosima. It's a very nice coat.

- Put in on. 

- Pardon?

- Put in onnnnnn, docteur Cormier. I hereby name you the nurse of this sickeningly charming American, there. 

Delphine was more than a little lost and probably Cosima could read that all over her face because she helped her put on the too-short labcoat and, adjusting the collar, she climbed on her tiptoes to Delphine's ear and whispered:

- There are only two ways to skip the queue to a museum. The first is to play preggy. Don't get me wrong, I'd totally go for  the full scam but why when I can just go for the truth and tell 'em I'm dying to get in here and lack the time to actually be civil and wait like any polite tourist? So, Delphine,...

She dropped on one knee.

- Will you make me the honour of being my fake nurse for the sake of our afternoon?

- You are a brat.

- Is that a yes?

- Cosima we can't, it's too much crime...

- Will you seriously say no to the sick girl?

- Stop saying that.

- C'mon.

- Incroyable, incroyable! If we get caught, it's more than plausible that we'll get kicked out of every damn museum of Paris afterwards, you know that?

Sadness flashed in Cosima's eyes. She did lack the time.

- It's not like it matters. 

Delphine shut her stupid mouth. 

- Oui, d'accord.

- Okay? For real?

- Why, yes. I do want to get in some day and clearly this queue is endless.

- Oh really? Let's go then. 

Cosima gave Delphine her health record for increased credibility; they went to the security men at the base of the pyramid. Delphine took her most serious face, it wasn't too hard, especially when Cosima started coughing for real because faking it had irritated her lungs. Seeing the blood on her handkerchief, they yielded and let them both in. they even asked if they wanted a wheel-chair to which Cosima answered in a weezing breath that they would be fine. She took Delphine's arm and leaned on her. And together they went down, took their tickets, left their bags at the check.

- Where shall we begin?

- This place is totally amazeballs! Have you seen The Da Vinci Code?

- No.

- One thing to add to your bucket list. Actually no, scratch that, it's not that good. But hey, I totally feel like I'm Tom Hanks, the teach' who gets a visit with his amazingly beautiful french guide. Except we lack the crazy religious extremists trying to kill us. Oh, actually, now that I think of it... But whatevs. I thought I'd start with the mummies and the eternal afterlife, you know, some kind of symbolic catharsis but I reckon you're more of a... XVI's century paintings? XIX's? I could totes see you like as a big fan of Ingres, you belong in one of his paintings to be honest. What's your favorite painter?

Delphine was overwhelmed by the watershed of english words haphazardly thrown at her. Did she say beautiful? 

- Euh, Toulouse-Lautrec.

- Wow, I did not expect that. Steamy.

You'd belong in one of his paintings too, Delphine caught herself thinking. Cosima was dizzying, a good dizzying. While she stared at the tiny stranger at her side, their feet had taken them to the Department of sculptures. All the statues of naked men and naked women, gods and mortals alike, looked at the uncommon pairing who, this very morning, didn't know each other. All statues but Psyche revived by the kiss of Love of course. Cupid and Pyche were too busy looking at each other's lips, as they had done for the last centuries. If only kisses held so much power as to give life, oh, she would give Cosima a hundred, a thousand of those. Delphine tripped on  her feet and blushed. Cosima caught her.

- Wow, wow, don't leave me just yet, I might not find my way out. And I still need to see the Mona Lisa, remember? Oh look, there's Leda and the Swan. Nice work. 

Delphine nodded, still troubled by her own train of thoughts. They climbed the stairs dominated by the Victory of Samothrace. Cosima insisted they took a photograph but never stopped making derp faces. Except one photo where Delphine surprised her, giving the camera to a wealthy-looking woman with blonde short hair. The woman, all business, took the photo and, last second, Delphine sneaked an arm around Cosima's waist, efficiently stopping her from pulling a face.The photo looked great. Cosima looked at it, silently, and then said, very seriously:

- We look cute. I'll send you a copy of this one. If... you give me your number, of course. 

Delphine did. 

The rest of the visit felt like an entire life, they shared anecdotes, analysis on diverse paintings. They came up to the Mona Lisa. Overrated, said Cosima. Delphine didn't care about the crowd of people pressing themselves in front of the masterpiece anymore, she wasn't even sure there even were people there. She herself was to busy watching Cosima, moving her hands enthusiastically, telling of how Marcel Duchamp had written L.H.O.O.Q under the famous painting and of how herself had read it as "look" all these years, before someone finally explained to her that in French it sounded like "She is hot in the arse" and that it was in fact, a dirty pun. Delphine laughed and laughed and laughed as she had laughed so many times in the afternoon. It felt good. Cosima beamed. And then Cosima started coughing. The laughs quieted.

They had to exit the museum. Night was falling already.

[hi-scott-bye-scott]

Le Métro.

Cophine.

Delphine entered the subway through Bérault station. She absolutely hated la ligne 1. Sure it was new, it was clean and functional. But it was also crowded. Unfortunately, the rendez-vous with the Dyad teacher who was supposed to chaperon her was set at the Hôtel de Ville, and there were no more direct way to reach the place than to bear with the crowd on the said ligne. She didn’t really want to meet with the old man, she didn’t really want to take the subway, stinking of dirty drizzle and animal scents. She didn’t want to face the crowd.

Portes de Vincennes… Portes de Vincennes.

Especially after Nation. People were crazy, literally climbing onto each other, throwing their bags everywhere, crushing toes, sometimes noses (though Delphine was tall enough to be spared the worst). She dreaded the moment they would get to Gare de Lyon, because for every body going out the wagon, ten would squeeze themselves into it, with bags and tired faces;

Nation… Nation. An ugly red coat flashed in. The tramp, in his bright-colored rags, shook his begging bowl in front of Delphine, who shook her head. There were so many people that his dirty coat brushed every shoulder, every back, every hand in the cluttered space. Two yuppies violently kicked him out at Reuilly-Diderot. Delphine sighed and pressed her notes closer to her chest; She deliberately placed herself in the corner, standing up, keeping her bag down in the iron-grip of her right hand. Deep breath, it was soon to be over.

Gare de Lyon… Gare de Lyon.

The wagon vomited the yuppies and the man who was pressing his umbrella in Delphine’s ribs, only to inhale an incredible amount of bags and exasperated grumbles. Delphine closed her eyes, trying to escape, to think about the possibility of working in the Us, or about her research on host-parasite relationships. Speaking of parasites, something crashed into her. She opened her eyes at the little frame crushed under an enormous suitcase.

- Sorry sorry sorry, big guy there almost knocked me off, I didn’t mean to…

New passengers ran in while the bell rang. Suddenly the foreigner was pressed into Delphine, ear against her heart. Delphine tensed, suddenly very conscious of her own smell, of her clothes, of how hot she felt. Doors closed and the train moved. The foreigner was able to get her a little more space, her cheek leaving Delphine’s chest.

- De-so-ley. Vrai-ment beau-coup. - No problem. You’re american?

Delphine didn’t expect an answer from this… tiny girl with glasses and dreadlocks, she’d ask out of reflex. She got one nonetheless.

- I’m from San Fran. Cosima. I took two breaths and a station for Delphine to understand it was actually the girl’s name and not a place. People from the Us have this habit of uttering the name of their state right after their city: Mobile, Alabama. New-Orleans, Louisiana. Or so she had been told. So she had to connect the dots to realize San Fran was actually San Francisco, not a state.

Bastille… Bastille.

Whatever she had to say something back now.

- I’m Delphine. Enchantée.

Not really. But the girl, Cosima, couldn’t know that and she smiled so big Delphine actually felt her own lips going up.

- Enchantey. Je vais, shit, huh at the museum, the Louvres. It’s on my bucket list, you see, to see the Mona Lisa. Where are you headed? - L'Hôtel de Ville. I…

A cough interrupted her. Cosima started coughing and tried to reach for a tissue in her bag but her body was shaking so violently she couldn’t reach her pocket, twisted as she was against Delphine between the seat and another girl round the same height and her two kids. Her arm got stuck in the pink strap of the mom’s sportsbag. Out of pure mercy, Delphine took a handkerchief from her own pocket. Cosima’s face was all contorted and comically red as she tried not to cough in Delpine’s face and, obviously, she was desperate to press her hand against her mouth, except she couldn’t. Delphine did it for her.

Saint-Paul… Saint-Paul.

Cosima was finally able to free her arm. Her hand took Delphine’s place on the piece of clothing to her mouth, brushing her fingers on the way. Her eyes were teary and she nodded a thank you, waiting for the fit to calm down. Delphine shot her a worried look, when she took her hand of her lips. The handkerchief was tainted with blood.

- Are you alright ? - I’m sorry I ruined your handkerchief. - Shall I… euh. Hospital, will you be… - Oh no, no no no, please. I’m gonna be alright, promise.

Hôtel de ville… Hôtel de ville.

- But… you’re sick. - Obvs. You know what a bucket list is, right? I can’t say it in French…

The truth dawned on Delphine. The crowd, the heat, the smells, the stations, forgotten. This tiny little girl, probably younger than her, with rosy cheeks and big eyes, this girl was dying. Delphine felt ashes on her tongue. Yet, Cosima smiled, lips closed, like a dork, displaying the smuggest face in the universe.

- What ? - The pretty french girl looks at me and misses her station. I say, the day starts well. But maybe you should go down, just about… now.

Châtelet… Châtelet.

Most of the passengers went down. Delphine turned red. She really should, but first :

- You sure it’s going to be alright? Two more stations to go. - Two? What, I thought there was only one left. Isn’t the right stop Louvre-Rivoli? You must be mistak…

Delphine checked the map on the ceiling.

- No, you need to stop au Palais Royal, there stands the Musée du Louvre. Bye, Cosima, take care.

She tried to make her way to the doors but they were already closing. She didn’t make it. Cosima was watching her, head tilted. Delphine shrugged.

- Missed it again. - Obvs. Will you try again at… Louvre-Rivoli? - No. - Oh…

Cosima tried not to smile and failed miserably. Delphine crossed her arms.

- You know, mademoiselle Cosima, I’m pretty sure that « Musée du Louvre » is written in capitals under the name of Palais Royal and that you just did that on purpose. - Is it? Delphine hummed.

- Okay, it’s just that, I don’t know what you wanted to do at the hum… - Hôtel de Ville. - Hôtel de Ville, but you didn’t seem too happy about it? Pretty pissed, even. So I figured that mayyybe you wouldn't be too sad to be the guide of, let’s say, a pretty american scientist, in the labyrinth that is the Louvre. And…

Cosima took a deep breath to say the rest very very quickly, almost too quickly for Delphine to grasp the foreign words.

-… maybe-let-me-buy-you-a-drink-as-a-way-to-apologize-for-ruining-your-handkerchief.

Louvre-Rivoli… Louvre-Rivoli.

- Oui, d’accord. - Okay? For real? - Why, yes. My afternoon just freed. I didn’t really want to go to my rendez-vous anyway. - Oh really?

Delphine smiled. If she tried hard enough, she could pretend the « sick » part didn’t happen.

- Really. So… you said you’re a scientist? - Yes ma’am. - So am I. - For real? - Why, yes. Immunologie. - Oh really? I’m evo-devo.

Palais Royal… Palais Royal.

Delphine was about to ask if Evo-Devo was indeed Evolutionary-Development and had totally forgotten about the station but Cosima grabbed her suitcase in one hand, Delphine’s sleeve in the other and laughing out loud, they ran out of the train to the conquest of Paris. For a day, oblivious of anything that wasn’t the two of them or maybe Da Vinci’s magical touch.

[hi-scott-bye-scott]

Cophine; Pomme d'amour.

- C’est un fraise. - Close. C’est une fraise. - Holy what? How am I even supposed to know strawberries are girls and apricots are guys! And bananas are girls but pinefruits are guys? And don’t get me started on how you weird people call the starfruit because excuse me? Carambole, how is that even allowed? It's sounds like a car crash. - That's carambolage. And stop whining, Cosima. For someone who knows by heart the Origin of Species, you’re quite lazy, mon cœur. Most berries are feminine, it’s not that hard to remember. - Don’t be a bitch, it’s easy for you. - It's ugly when you pout, petit animal, do you know that? - Shuddup, you love it. Anyway, teach me something rad. - Something rad? - Yeah, or you know, something I can actually use to lure my very very hot girlfriend in bed with me? Unless you find fruits infinitely sexy, of course. - What are you doing, no, put your hands away, you bad bad student! - Fraise. Mmm, pêche, abricot… - That’s absurd, it’s absurd, oh! - Cerise, framboise… - Cosima! - Myrtille! - Okay, I’ll teach you, okay, oui! Merde, not now, just, just, shit, come over here, par ici dans mes bras...