Hey everyone! I'm (finally) back with my second AU.

So, the major thing that's happened since I finished Director's Cut is the 'In Memoriam' video. At the moment all signs are pointing to Delphine actually being dead, and I can't even explain how much this sucks. But, I've come to the conclusion that, if she really is dead, I'm willing to accept that as long as they make a freaking huge deal out of it. I need to see the clone club truly appreciating her. I need to see Cosima break.

Anyway, on with the AU! This is the story of Cosima and Delphine over the course of a decade. When there is a significant time jump in the story, it will be written at the top of the chapter.

We ride the tube across town, gripping tightly to the handrail above our heads as the train moves from side to side on the track. People get off at each stop, momentarily opening up a space around us, before it fills again with commuters or tourists or young college kids with white headphone wires dangling down from their ears to their jacket pockets. I look across at Paul. He grips my hand tightly, staring straight ahead, until he notices me looking. He smiles warmly and squeezes my hand a little tighter.

Even after living in London for almost two years, I still can't bear the claustrophobia of the tube. Or the voice from the speakers that no one can understand, not even native English speakers. Or the rudeness of businessmen and women as they push past the crowd in their smart grey suits, glaring at whoever crosses their path with that look of arrogance in their cold, grey eyes.

'Delphine'.

Paul's voice brings me out of my miserable daydream and I feel his hand start to pull me towards the doors as they slide open silently. Euston Square. I didn't even realise our journey was over. Thankfully Paul is paying attention.
Bodies bump into me from all directions as I dart through the crowd as if was in a maze, squeezing through gaps as they open only for a moment. Tourists wander slowly around, staring at maps of the city and the tube maps on the wall. They keep stopping in my way. I have to keep turning and choosing a different path. I find myself growing increasingly annoyed. Maybe I'm becoming like one of those impatient commuters I hate so much.

I can't blame these people; less than two years ago, I was just a lost tourist in a new city. I called London home but I barely knew where I was most of the time. I was homesick for Paris, where everything seemed slower and less chaotic. I had Paul, so I wasn't entirely alone, but sometimes I felt very lonely, like it was just the two of us in our little apartment in an alien world.

Things were better when I started school. That's why I came here; to get my PhD in immunology at UCL.
Paul got a job at a bank. It was easy for him; he just walks into a room and everyone wants to talk to him, everyone learns his name and remembers it. I am the exact opposite.
Thanks to his previous experience in banking, he was soon earning a handsome salary, and with the money I was earning from teaching classes on the side, we had enough money to rent a bigger place near the university. I was falling in love with school. Paul loved his job too.
So I can't complain about anything, really. We have a very comfortable life here. But sometimes I still feel miserable and I'm not sure why.

We finally make it over to the escalators. I let the step carry me upwards through the rounded tunnel, colourful posters passing by on the walls, for restaurants and West End musicals and Madame Tussauds. I let go of Paul's hand, pulling my black coat higher up around my neck as we reach the steps that will take us out of the station. I brace myself for the cold wind that swirls through my hair and whistles through my ears.

We walk in silence towards the university. Paul doesn't bother saying anything, so I don't either. He tries to reach for my hand again, but I take it away.
He's meeting his work friends on the next street along. They're going out for drinks, like they do almost every weekend. Paul invited me, but I made it very clear I'd much rather attend Dr Leekie's lecture at the university than sit silently in a corner watching Paul and his loud-mouthed, arrogant, posh-boy colleagues get wasted and throw their heads back in laughter, so loud everyone turns and stares at them. None of the other wives or girlfriends get invited out; most of them are getting cheated on anyway. Sometimes I think I'll be next.
'Paul the banker' is very different from the Paul I met in Paris. I hate to see him act like such a fool, so I never go out with them anymore. I hate Paul's friends.
As we approach the street, they cheer as they see him. He waves over at them, then stops walking and turns to me.

'I'll call you later. Have a great time at your lecture'.

'You have a good time, too', I say quietly.

He leans down and kisses me on the mouth, but I gently push him away when I hear the shouts and whistles from across the road. He breaks away with a quick 'love you' and runs across the road to join his friends. They shout my name, jeering, whistling, Paul laughing along with them. Assholes.

The sound fades away as we walk in opposite directions. The street is unusually quiet, but as I near campus, the click of my high-heeled black boots against the concrete dissolves into the low hum of voices, growing louder and louder as I pass the hospital and join the busy main street. I join the crowd of people heading towards the lecture theatre.

Dr Leekie, one of the professors, is giving a talk on neolutionism. It's a subject that I find very interesting, but I imagine that many people will be apprehensive or sceptical of his ideas. Others follow him as though he is a religious leader. The 'freaky leekies', they're called. I spot a few of them now, some with silver hair, and some with silver eyes.

I make my way inside the old, red brick building and follow the steady stream of people, flowing like a river through the open double doors and into the busy theatre. Row upon row of fold out plastic chairs are filled with enthusiastic scientists, and I instantly feel as though I belong. I almost laugh at the thought. I spot a single empty seat on the end of the row near the middle of the room, and hurry towards it. The woman in the next seat along has a brown leather bag slung over her shoulder, occupying half the empty seat. She rummages around inside the bag, looking down in concentration through glasses that keep falling further and further down her nose, then stopping at the thin silver nosering.

'I'm sorry, do you mind moving your bag?' I ask, not wanting to disturb her but out of options, as the last seats were just taken.

She looks up quickly, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, eyes framed with thick black eyeliner meeting mine.

'Oh, of course, I'm so sorry!' she smiles, waving her hands around. She grabs her bag and moves it onto her lap, continuing her search inside.
'I'm always losing things in here', she murmurs in her American accent.

I set my own bag down at my feet and settle into the chair, running a hand through my curls.

'Aha!' she says triumphantly, pulling out her cell phone. She turns it off and slips it back into the bag as the lights dim around us. She brushes her dark brown dreadlocks over her shoulder, leaning forward eagerly. I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. A loud cheer echoes around the theatre as Dr Leekie makes his entrance.

A short way into the speech, Dr Leekie explains that he can speak French, Spanish, Italian and several other languages due to some kind of multi-lingual chip.

'Bullshit', I hear a whisper beside me. I turn to look at the smirking woman.

'You don't believe it?' I whisper in response, leaning closer to her.

'Nah, he's just trying to impress us. He wants us to join his fan club', she murmurs. Someone hisses 'Shhhh!' at us from the row behind. I giggle quietly, covering my mouth with the top of my coat in an attempt to stop. She smiles across at me, as though we have our own private joke, then turns back to Dr Leekie.

Her smile is the infectious kind; the warm, bright kind that makes you want to see it, over and over again.

The lecture drags to a close. Dr Leekie is an interesting enough speaker, but I just didn't really get the points he was trying to make. I was interested in neolutionism before, but now I find the whole idea very confusing.

'It is just me, or do you find that guy seriously creepy?' the American asks as we stand up to leave.

'No, I agree', I laugh.

'I don't trust him at all. Or those silver eyed groupies down there'. She nods towards the bottom of the theatre, where a group of Freaky Leekies are surrounding the professor in awe.

We make our way through a side door, which opens out into a large classroom. It's empty of furniture, except for the tables where glasses of champagne are set out on a white tablecloth.

'I don't know though, it looks like they know how to entertain', she grins, almost pushing her way through a group of people to grab a glass. She hands me one as well.

'Merci'.

'I thought that was a French accent I heard', she smiles, intrigued.

'Yes, I'm from Paris. I've lived here for almost two years now. And you, you're American?'

'Yeah, but my sister lives here, so I've got my family close. So you're getting your PhD?' she asks.

'Yes, in immunology'.

'Oh, cool!' she exclaims. 'I'm in evo devo'.

I blink in confusion. Evo devo? Oh wait -

'Evolutionary development!'

'Yeah! Sorry, that's what we call it here'. She giggles apologetically, apparently finding my confusion amusing.

'I'm Delphine', I say, extending my hand, which she takes in her own.

'Cosima', she smiles.

'Enchantee'.

'Enchantee', she replies, almost giggling because she knows her accent is completely wrong.

Cosima. It's a beautiful name. I like the way it sounds, even if my accent alters it. I have never met a Cosima before.

It's fitting, though, because I have never met anyone like her. We stood there, talking, for over an hour. Trading stories back and forth about our experiences of living in England and studying and our undergraduate degrees. Talking about science. Laughing at her stupid jokes.

I am fascinated by this woman. Her brilliant mind and her hippie style and her tattoos. And that smile.

And then her phone vibrates, and her smile falters. It ruins the moment.

'It's my girlfriend, she's waiting for me outside. I'm sorry, Delphine'.

'Don't be. It was really nice to talk to you, Cosima'.

'You too! It's good to meet someone I can totally geek out with. Are you staying any longer, or …'

'No, I'm going to go home, I think. My boyfriend's out with his friends, so I've got the TV all to myself for the evening'.

She laughs. 'Walk out with me?'

'Of course'.

We make our way out of the theatre, snaking around the groups of chattering scientists. The place is still full of people, and Leekie is still swamped by his dedicated fans.
When we reach the door, Cosima hands me a small slip of paper with her number written on it in scrawling handwriting.

'Because we should totally study together some time!' she explains excitedly.

My heart leaps. She gave me her number! That means she wants to see me again! I probably shouldn't be this excited, but I can't help myself. Talking to her this afternoon, I haven't felt so happy in a long while. I want to be around her all the time.

'Oui, of course. I would like that', I smile back, folding the paper slip carefully and tucking it away in my pocket. I will definitely be keeping that number.

'See you around, Delphine!'

And with that, she's turning away and walking down the street, into the arms of a small blonde girl wearing a beige trench coat and a fedora hat. They walk off together, laughing, hand in hand, while I'm left cold and alone on the sidewalk. I watch as she disappears around the corner, until the last trace of her is gone. And, as if by some tragic cosmic joke, it starts to rain.

I stand there for a few minutes, letting the cold droplets of water fall through my hair and down my neck. I feel as though I might burst into tears and I'm not sure why.

Paul calls me. I answer the phone. Reluctantly.

Thanks for reading!