A/N: A random angsty(ish) drabble I've had in my head. Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.

You've been a medical mystery since the age of 16 when your symptoms first started to present themselves; it's why you'd studied science diligently throughout high school and college, focusing on immunology in hopes of learning more about yourself and the disease afflicting you. Doctors treated symptoms when they couldn't find the cause and though it helped to an extent you've never felt healthy, that is, until DYAD and Doctor Leekie came knocking.

They found you just before graduation, an offer on the table not just to study yourself but to study others afflicted with a mysterious illness of their own. It had only taken you seconds to agree. They had resources you'd never seen, money you couldn't imagine, and a remedy you never thought possible. It wasn't a cure, not entirely, but it suppressed the disease, suppressed your symptoms, in a way no medicine had ever managed before. You could breathe again, run again, sleep without waking up in pain; it was everything you'd ever needed and it was there for you without question the moment you signed your contract.

"What do they have on you?"

You sigh when she asks again, hands on your shoulders rubbing away the stress of the day.

"Nothing," you say, tilting your head back to look up at her.

You reach up and take one of her hands in yours, the other closing your laptop, and you stand, turning so you're face to face. "They have nothing."

Cosima regards you for a moment longer, wrapping her arms around your neck as she draws you into a kiss, taking you to bed as if you had all the time in the world.

You've been out of your meds for a week now and Cosima is starting to notice. You get tired faster, you flinch away from her massages, and every now and then you find yourself doubled over in the bathroom, ridding your stomach of what little you've managed to eat that day. She's worried about you but you brush it off as stress; you know she doesn't believe you for a second.

You find the cure, her cure, a month and a half in. It's 3 am and you're sitting at her desk in a robe when everything finally comes together. You shuffle your way back to bed, wrapping yourself around Cosima as you kiss her awake. "I've found it," you breathe and her eyes blink open. "You're going to be okay."

You wish you could say the same of yourself.