The twenty sixth of June. It should have been like any other day, just one that would come and go like the ones before and after it. It was a lie Cosima Niehaus told herself every year, on that one particular day. It was a day that should have stopped being important nearly eight years ago. However, come late June, year after year, for eight years, she drew her marker from the mason jar on her desk and with a pursing of her lips and the quiet screech of the felt tip on the laminated calendar, she scribed two diagonal lines intersecting, exing out another day that had come, but could never overcome the particular swelling in her chest that surfaced only on the twenty sixth.

It was the one day when every memory of her old life would come rushing back, the one day when it wasn't bits and pieces. That day in particular brought with it more than the thought of her at the sight of a golden retriever puppy, or the taste of her lips with every sip of coffee. It brought with it the vivid scenes, the memories that played like movies on the backs of closed eyelids, the crying, the screaming, the hurt, but mostly, the lie.

"On your birthday?! He just expects you to throw your things into boxes in a matter of hours and just… just… what?! You can't leave Seattle… You can't leave me. F-for what? Because it's his shot to give you everything he couldn't since you were nine?!"

"Cosima! Enough!" Delphine gave a thorough attempt at keeping her tone even, but Cosima could see the conflicting emotions in her pained but gorgeous emerald gaze. "I don't want to do this, but I have to." Her voice wavered at the sight of Cosima's quivering lip, her heart leaping into her throat.

"Del, please," Cosima managed, though her words sounded foreign as they tripped out of her mouth. "I can't do this… any of this without you."

Delphine's face fell and she stepped forward, reaching up to cradle her girlfriend's jaw in her palms. She, of all people, knew the hells they had come from; her own father had moved her to Seattle before her tenth birthday from Paris after a nasty divorce with her mother. They'd come to America with little money and so the best Jacques Cormier could do for his daughter, and for himself, was no better than the far side of the tracks. He'd always had faith in Delphine and had raised her to the best of his abilities, but like any youth in her situation, she wasn't immune to the natures of drugs and physical, sexual attractions. One of the first friends she made in Seattle had been the… eccentric girl from down the street, the one who was constantly reading or tinkering with things, the one who scrunched up her nose in an attempt to get her glasses up higher on the bridge of it, only to fail and heave an exasperated sigh. Being friends with her had come easy, but as the years wore on, even Delphine knew there was no point in denying what had grown between them. Looking into those honey-almond eyes, knowing that she had to say goodbye with everything they had been through in mind, it broke her heart, every inch of it, resonating into every last inch of her limbs. They were only seventeen, they still had so many years ahead of them. It would only be a year until she turned eighteen, until she could come back for her best friend, her cherie. Her thumbs brushed gingerly along the scape of Cosima's cheekbones, the pads of her thumbs absorbing the few tears that leaked out of her eyes. Delphine tilted Cos' head up and met her gaze evenly, hating how red and swollen the other girl's eyes were. "I promise you," she started, being cut off as she heard her father calling her name from down the street, "I will come back for you."

Promises didn't exist; they were, more often than not, empty and not worth their weight in hope. That was something Cosima had learned the hard way. Her mind and her heart felt heavy, weighted, as she parted from the calendar hanging on the wall and headed toward the bathroom to shower and get ready for work. She had faced her own struggles in the wake of Delphine's absence; her seventeen year old self hadn't been well quipped to handle such a sudden departure, and she'd been getting along well on her own, but it took the blink of an eye to turn that completely on its head.

After a long, hot shower, Cosima stood in front of the mirror, her eyes falling to just beneath her left breast and the small, round scar that had made its home there. It brought back a whole slew of unwanted memories, of a six month chunk of missing time, six months of her life that she would never get back. All she wanted, all she had ever wanted or expected in leaving Seattle for San Francisco, for Berkeley, running away on a scholarship, was to start over and not have to look back. It was to leave behind all of that horrible shit and focus on going to school, focus on getting her Masters and moving to another country entirely. Being in school and living on her own, though, came with its own complexities, requiring her to be able to pay her bills while still attending college. The job at a high end catering company that ran out of downtown San Fran had been a blessing, more than she could actually put into words. She worked with good people; they were all a bunch of college kids struggling to pay bills with cynical senses of humor to parallel hers perfectly. At the same time, it was rather amusing to work with such a group of people and yet, the duties of their job often entailed working for people that were worth about five times their paygrade.

At the end of some events, usually the later ones, Cos would find herself gathered around with Britta, Janelle, Quinten, Kaleb, and Lennox, all huddled in a tight circle in the bed of Lennox's pick up truck with a bottle of one fifty one going from hand to hand on one side of the circle while a pearled blunt made its way around opposite, circling around the left hand side. It was a great cap to end most nights, and it was in good company, something Cosima knew she could not get enough of, especially wish such a gaping hole in the core of who she was, one that had resided for eight long years. Filling her time with making jokes and excessive eye rolling as they bagged on the uptight clients they tended to work for was a seemingly decent way to pass her free time; it was so much easier to immerse herself in a world that was so different from the one she had known for so long than to try and act like she was whole, as a person.

With a finishing swipe of eyeliner and a slight adjustment of the bowtie around her neck, Cosima gave herself one last glance in the mirror and her lips immediately perked up at the corners in a bit of a self-satisfied smirk. For having to wear a formal outfit for such uppity events, she had to admit that she pulled it off rather flawlessly, bowtie and all.

The trolley ride to Quinten's kept her mind occupied well enough, though she wished that she had been able to take her thoughts out of the past long enough to enjoy the day, the beautiful weather and not the fact that they were probably going to be cramped up in some large office space or mansion with expansive real estate that they could only admire from afar.

After everyone had arrived at Quin's, they did a head count and loaded into his too-large, un-eco-friendly SUV and set out to meet the other half of their staff at the event location of the day; some multi-million dollar home in Sea Cliff. "Isn't this for the um…" Cosima reached into the back, snapping her fingers to get the attention of her friends, "the uh, Ericksohn Corporation? That corporation that spearheaded diagnostic practice and medicine research?"

"Yeah, but it's not for the actual business. Some huge birthday party or something." It was Lennox who spoke up and Cosima shrugged, figuring it to be a fair answer.

Upon arriving, it was much of the same basic pre-show set-up, or at least that was what they called it. Every event was nothing more than a show, a magic trick that they all needed to pull off flawlessly. No matter what happened, or how things came to pass, the show had to go on, no matter if it meant improvising or just getting by on the seat of their pants. Whatever the issue, whatever the inconvenience, they remained a well-oiled machine, working as one instead of as individuals.

Nothing, however, could have prepared Cosima for the day that was just waiting for her, mere moments ahead.

She had been carrying in crate after crate packed with bottles and that ridiculous packing material that was oddly similar to really dry, really long grass. What was the point of it? Her mind had started to wander, as it often did, and she was completely unaware of her surroundings, like the back door as it opened and shut, and someone came shuffling into the kitchen. Cosima had set down the crate and turned back for the last one when she, quite literally ran into the person she had been entirely oblivious of, the same person who was glossed with sweat and donned sport attire, the same one who had pulled back to shut the refrigerator at the same time Cosima moved to cross her path, causing a collision that sent her into the edge of the counter, her hip bone hitting it in a way that caused her jaw to tense and her knuckles to turn white as she gripped the edge of the counter. "I'm so—" she had started, lifting her head to face the victim of her task-driven, momentous force. Before she could finish speaking, though, all color seemed to liquidate out of her face, leaving her skin a pale, delicate white.

The runner, the woman who had fallen into the path of Hurricane Cosima lifted her head, a few loose curls falling down to frame her face, which was flushed by the effort of her previous task. Her doe-eyes and perfect complexion would have been enough for Cosima, but the moment those lips split into a smile, the brunette was sure she was going to faint. It wasn't possible. It couldn't bepossible. The odds weren't that likely, they just didn't fit.

It was as if she had been standing on a railroad track, her foot caught in the tie, stranding her, keeping her still and immobile, watching as the light got brighter, as the tracks rattled and began to shake. It was like seeing it coming and yet, still not being able to fathom the idea of impact. "Cos—Cosima?" The way the sounds of her name rolled off of the tongue of the blonde woman a foot in front of her were absolutely unmistakable.

She blinked up at the figure from behind her spectacles, a sudden burst of flame shooting up from the very depths of her heart and her stomach. It was. It had to be.

"D-Delphine?"