Chapter Text
You were restless.
All you could think about was Leon and Sherry’s infections. The black veins and bruises that had started on their palms were spreading, and no one had any idea what it was. Leon had tried to reassure you, calm your nerves before he’d left, but it hadn’t worked. People were dying now, corpses with the same signs of ‘Raccoon City Syndrome’ cropping up across the country. Leon had gone to investigate in hopes of finding clues that could hopefully help him understand what was going on. Neither of you were so hopeful to utter the word ‘cure’. The goodbye had been an even more painful one than usual, the lingering dread in your chest seeming to whisper the word finality in your ear.
You had been forbidden from joining Leon on this mission. Even after all this time, you were still on a short leash. Leon had helped garner some freedoms for you- you were no longer trapped in your small containment cell and monitored like a lab animal- but at the end of the day, you were still a bioweapon in their eyes. And a mission as emotionally charged as this one had been deemed too risky to send you out on. It was never said aloud, but the consensus was that Leon’s infection was more than likely terminal, and they knew well that his death would send you over the edge. The worst part was, they weren’t exactly wrong.
Leon had been your anchor ever since you had been reunited on that one fateful mission. He’d fought for you against all odds, campaigning for your rights as an individual within the eyes of the agency. Human or not, he had argued, you were no mindless bioweapon. You were a person, and the agency couldn’t treat you like a chained up attack dog.
He’d made big waves, using his considerable reputation and connections to pressure the agency to finally loosen their death grip on you. For the first time in years, you’d had some semblance of freedom again. You weren’t completely free, not by a longshot, but it was better than you had ever thought possible. You’d been let out of the box and inducted back into the field as a seemingly normal agent, even getting partnered with Leon. Even though you still got sent out on black ops missions as a bioweapon and were closely monitored by the DSO, life felt tolerable again. You weren’t doomed to rot away in the basement lab anymore, at least.
But of course, it couldn’t last, you thought bitterly. Now Leon was infected with some unknown illness that was killing him, and your world threatened to shatter in your hands. It was the one thing you couldn’t fight; there was no one to hold responsible, no vaccine to find. It had appeared out of nowhere, something that had hid latent within him, waiting to strike. It was in many ways your worst nightmare come true.
The only thing you could do now was throw yourself headlong into your work. You had pulled every file on Raccoon City you could, combing through the mountain of information for anything that might help Leon. The precious few pieces of intel recovered from Umbrella documents. Files on experiments and research flowed through your mind, the hours passing without you noticing. Maybe there was something here that they’d missed, something small and innocuous that could give you a lead on what Leon and Sherry were suffering from. There had to be something. You needed there to be something, anything. A hail mary.
You barely ate or slept, only really pausing in your search to trudge up to the operations center to check in with Sherry and get updates on Leon. Once, when it had been late and the floor was empty, Sherry had passed you her headset.
Leon’s breathing sounded rough and hoarse. Just the sound of it had made you tear up, your hands clutching the headset as if you were trying to reach through the connection and grab hold of him. Don’t worry about me, he’d said, trying to keep his voice light. Just ran up a lot of stairs. Getting old sucks. He’d lied to you, trying to make you smile. You’d laughed, a sputtering pitiful thing, the tears flowing freely then.
You told him to stay safe. You whispered a ‘love you’ just for him to hear, and he’d choked up then, too. You could both feel that time was short. Unless there was a miracle, this was the end of the line.
You hadn’t believed in miracles in a very, very long time.
***
Leon had gone offline for a while not long after that. You were left pacing in the empty office, too wired and scared to even attempt to sleep despite the late hour. ARK. Elpis. Grace. What did it all mean? What was Leon going to find down there, beneath the grave of Raccoon City? Your stomach twisted at the mere thought of it. Another secret Umbrella facility hidden right under the world’s nose, tucked away and protected by the very blast meant to wipe Umbrella’s horrors off the map. It made you sick.
The files you’d gone through hadn’t helped. There was no indication of what Elpis might be. If Leon didn’t resurface soon, you were going to take matters into your own hands, consequences be damned. Even if the agency locked you up forever for going rogue, it would be worth it.
Fortunately, you didn’t have to wait much longer.
***
Sherry had found you. Immediately, it was obvious that something had changed.
She was smiling. Her grin was ear to ear, and she practically glided across the empty cubicle space.
“He’s alive.” Sherry said, her joy practically radiating off her. Her eyes seemed moist. “The infection- it’s gone.” She beamed.
Your knees felt weak, your head light. You grasped the edge of a cubicle just to stay upright. Your throat felt tight, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, stifling the sobs of relief that overtook you. Sherry laid a hand on your shoulder. You were both crying now. Your miracle had come after all.
***
Elpis wasn’t a weapon. It was a cure.
A cure. It seemed impossible. Umbrella had developed the most powerful antiviral known to man, capable of undoing even the advanced T-virus infection that Leon had nearly died of.
Leon was okay. Better than okay, he had said to you over the phone as he was wrapping up the mission. You’d almost cried again, hearing his familiar boyish tone, more grateful in that moment than you had ever been in your life. He was coming home to you healthy and (mostly) unharmed.
His next words had shaken you to your core. “There’s a dose here, for you.” He had murmured softly. At first, you’d been confused. You weren’t exhibiting signs of T-virus infection like him and Sherry.
But then the implication had hit you like a freight train. Your infection could be cured. You could be human again, freed of the inner monster that lurked within your cells, your DNA.
A bioweapon, no more.
Was it really possible? You had resigned yourself to this life, to being bound as the DSO’s living weapon. A dark thought settled over your mind. Would the agency even approve the treatment? It would mean losing their strongest field asset. You imagined the bureaucracy the agency could manufacture, red tape and procedure effectively holding the cure out of reach for years, if not forever. There were a hundred ways they could make sure you were theirs forever.
You shuddered involuntarily. Surely not even the brass was that cruel. And yet… the doubt lingered in your mind.
Would they do the right thing, or would they do what they thought was necessary?