Chapter Text
Cosima slumped slightly in her seat, ignoring the huffs from the couple behind her, trying to lose her thoughts in the slight jostle and sway of the train car, in the pages before her. This was the last leg of an impromptu - probably ill-advised - trip through a small piece of Western Europe. She was making her way through the beautiful port city of Valencia on to Barcelona, where she’d fly home tomorrow. She thought she'd find some clarity in solo travel, walking alone down cobblestone streets, through ancient harbors, break free of the expectations that shaped her limited world view, her place in it. Hostel-hopping had been a mixed bag, meeting some interesting people, with whom she’d share a day or two, but mostly it had just meant lonely nights in musty, small quarters, each one much like the last.
She hadn't found any answers. Maybe this was it. No answer was answer enough.
So far the only thing she'd found positively distracting on this trip was the blonde sitting across from her, clearly distracted herself.
The couple behind her had been in a tense standoff for the past half hour. In a crumpled suit, the man snapped his copy of Levante loudly as he turned the pages, looking over the edges at his wife, who was clearly unamused, bristling at some recent slight or past indiscretion. The tension radiated off them in waves, putting everyone in the car on edge.
Cosima looked down, lightly gripping the magazine in her lap, focusing. Just within her peripheral vision she saw the far door open.
A teenage boy ambled down the aisle, all long arms and legs, holding two small coffees, eyes focused on his destination at the back of the car. The train lurched as he passed the couple, the brown liquid splashed toward the older man in a graceful, inevitable arc. Alarm then anger flashed across the man’s face as it hit, his frustration audible to the entire car: he had found a target for the unspoken, unspeakable tension at his table. Lashing out at the young boy as he rattled off what Cosima imagined must be expletive-laden Spanish, grabbing his bag and his wife - who looked more annoyed at him than the boy - they headed off toward the back of the car.
The boy must be in tatters, Cosima thought briefly, but couldn't really focus on the scene. Her attention drawn instead to the stunning blonde sitting diagonally across from her, who, just moments before, had been gazing out the window, a white cord dangling under soft curls. Cosima looked at her now, seeing such a mix of emotions playing out across the woman’s face at the scene. She was transfixed, initially startled, clearly, but something else sparked behind her eyes - was it defiance? She was gripping the armrest, as if at any moment she may burst from her seat to save the young man from such mistreatment. She glanced at Cosima then, their eyes meeting in a brief flash. The blonde blushed at having her emotions so clearly found out and dropped her head.
“Do you know what he was saying to the poor guy?” Cosima asked softly, leaning forward.
The blonde looked back up, lifting her soft, hazel eyes to meet the small woman’s gaze. “Mmmm, no, my Spanish is not very good. But it did not seem pleasant, no?”
When she heard that accent - smooth velvet, but also airy - Cosima’s features shifted, looking at the blonde with amusement, edged with wonder. “You’re French?”
The blonde laughed softly, her curls bouncing around creamy, pale skin and hazel eyes. “Oui. And, you are American,” she stated.
“That obvious, huh?”
“Well, you are in Spain, and you ask a French girl to interpret for you - in English.” Her eyes were sparkling with mischief, her tone playful.
“Owhh, idiot American,” Cosima’s hands spun in the air apologetically, her dreads bouncing with the motion, “you got me there." She winced slightly.
“I think that is not true,” she said as she gestured at the Scientific American in the brunette’s hands, “that was also a sign as to your origins, non?” She waited a beat, and asked, “What kind of science is this ... Scientific American interested in?” She seemed to giggle a bit at her own joke. “You seemed to be working out a problem the past hour.” She mimicked the American’s furrowed brows, in mock seriousness.
She’s been watching me the past hour? Did she notice me sneaking glances at her? Oh god, how adorable is that face?
“Oh, um,” Cosima started, stumbled, then her hands were cutting through the air as she continued, “well, I mean, like, everything really. From the smallest cell, or protein even, to the vast expanses of space, there’s so much to wonder at, you know? I am interested in all of it.”
Their eyes locked for a long moment, something unexpected passing between them. The French woman’s eyes softened as a small smile passed her lips. Cosima, for her part, could not stop her eyes from drifting down as the woman pulled her lip lightly between teeth. Her heart fluttered and a bolt shot through her.
“C’est vrai,” she said simply. “That is true.”
Cosima grinned, her tongue just peaking past eye teeth.
That expression warmed the blonde in a way she couldn’t explain. “It is so lovely to hear someone speaking about the wonders of the universe, instead of, of all of this,” she waved toward the tray table still slightly covered with coffee.
She smiled again, a bit wider. “Still you didn’t tell me, what had you so enthralled the past hour?”
You, Cosima thought.
“Oh, well, I was reading about prion diseases, um, like mad cow disease? It’s like a misfolded protein that propagates in the brain, infects other cells, and then misfolds other proteins,” the words were tumbling out as her hands spun, missing the look of disbelief and amusement coloring the other woman’s features.
“Um, like, a virus, a bit. It’s hella awful and causes really precipitous cognitive decline, fatal insomnia, like totally the worst way to go, am I right? They are just beginning to discover how these diseases affect humans.”
She nodded. She was awed by how this girl summed up a whole discipline of molecular biology, accessible, excitable, warm. Mon dieu, hella, how charming is this woman? She pushed the thought aside and smiled.
Cosima continued, “Anyway. This article suggests that prions themselves might actually hold the key to staving off dementia!” Her hands fell out to each side in exclamation, as she huffed slightly. “It’s incredible how little we understand, isn’t it? That this awful thing might be the key to holding on to our most precious memories ...”
Coming back to the moment, Cosima was slightly embarrassed for going on. “I’m sorry, I just totally dorked out on you there.”
Not sure how to respond, the blonde smiled, fully aware of the blush spreading across her cheeks, trying to figure out how to communicate their shared interest. “No, no, not at all. I think I must be ‘dorking’ out too,” she said slowly, unsure of the phrase. She reached into the bag at her side, pulling something just to the top, then stopping, turning to the brunette. “That was a wonderful summary, by the way, but you forgot to mention that prions often originate in lymphatic tissue,” she said, grinning, as she pulled the item just over the lip of her bag, revealing the Swiss journal Frontiers in Immunology.
Jaw going slack, a mix of astonishment, confusion, and - was it glee? - pulsed through her. Cosima knew the blonde's words were a cover to demonstrate their shared interest, and she couldn’t help the wide, genuine grin breaking across her features, tongue pressing against teeth.
“Maybe we can talk about the wonders of the universe over coffee. Somewhere stable?” the blonde asked, eyebrows raising slightly in question, nodding to the front of the train “Dining car?”
Cosima nodded immediately, words momentarily lost to her. Only later would she wonder if she had seemed a bit too eager, a bit too taken with this unexpected, beautiful French woman.