Author's Note: Revised

|Poison|

Harley looked at her reflection staring back at her in the mirror. The swelling had gone down a little in her face. Her bottom lip sported a nice, jagged cut and her jaw was a brilliant red and purple. Her hip looked just as bad. She toweled off the rest of her wet, auburn hair and limped over to her laptop. It had been a couple of days since the incident, but she was still shaken from it. Flashes of Gemma's screaming face and Wesker's rage still haunted her. She had been lucky to get any rest. She sat on the edge of the chair, checking her e-mail as she vigorously worked her wild, soggy strands. Kevin had sent her a message earlier that morning before she had managed to fall out of her bed. She began to re-read it again, still shocked at what she found there:

Desmond,

Ms. Whitaker tried to contact you earlier this morning regarding project "U-PG013". She was very adamant that you stop by her office as soon as you came into work today. "U-PG013" is being bumped to Level-A security. Some of us may be going with him.

Kev

She read it once more to make sure it wasn't her imagination. She was losing a big project again. After what she had said to Whitaker's face after decontamination and several tests to ensure she hadn't been infected, Harley was sure she wasn't going to have a job. She didn't even bother to show up the day after. The day before, she had just ghosted around the lounge and specimen area. She hadn't been able to make her way into any of the research rooms. She certainly hadn't been in to check on Wesker. But, it was as she had expected. Her team had done everything she had asked according to Kevin. Whitaker had authorized a stasis tank. The supplies and equipment had been set up for Wesker to be taken care of as if it were imperative that he survived. If Whitaker was going to get the extent of research that she wanted out of this man, they were going to need some more time. As much as she didn't want to, she was going to have to go in and face Whitaker. She just wasn't sure how to feel if she lost this project.

This would give her a chance to see what Tri-Cell did with George. She wasn't sure what she was going to do with the information she found. She was just curious and her curiosity was the only thing she had going for her around here. She tossed the towel into the hamper and proceeded to dress herself, grabbing her new lab coat on her way out of the dormitories. She locked up and made her way to the offices. Taking the boring elevator ride down, ignoring Trey's warm welcome at the front desk, and trudging into the lounge to pick up a strong cup of coffee before she went on to confront Ms. Whitaker in her office. She was escorted through the double pressure lock doors that lead to the back elevator. It was the only way to the Level-A facility. Level-A was its own building built entirely underground. This was where all of the large, expensive projects were kept. Large-scale tests were performed there. The scientists who worked in the complex had almost free reign there. They were allowed to pick and choose the projects they worked on. Most of them consisted of small groups that had an individual lead scientist.

The elevator was more of a horizontal trolley that passed through a long tunnel opening into a large foyer. Gigantic monitors glared down at the pedestrians as they crossed on the elaborately tiled floor where a large Tri-Cell insignia was stamped. All of them donned lab coats sporting the same logo. The guards lead her to the row of elevators, saluting the heavily armed men guarding them. They allowed them safe passage as an elevator was called. Those sitting at the front desk barely gave her a glance as they continued working. The guards squeezed into the elevator with her in tow as they pressed a button. A musical ding sounded as the door closed and she began her slow ride to Whitaker's office. So many things were running through her head right now.

Whitaker was standing with her back turned, pouring herself a drink when she entered through the office door. She didn't even turn to acknowledge her presence as the guards closed the door behind them. It was now just her and Whitaker. The sound of glass being moved and the sloshing of liquid was the only thing that broke the silence as Harley took in her surroundings. This was the first she had ever been in a lead scientist's office since she had gotten her first major promotion. It was extremely lavish with the leather sofa and office chairs. Elegant Tiffany lamps adorned her desk that probably was priced at about a small used car each. So, this was the life of a lead scientist in Class-A. She would be jealous if she didn't find the posh lifestyle distasteful. Whitaker turned around and looked at her with a forced smile. Harley could see the stress weighing on her features. Motioning to the chair in front of her desk, she gave Harley a silent order to take a seat. Harley, of course, gave her what she wanted, wincing as she did so. Her hip was giving her quite a bit of trouble today.

"Here, you're going to need it," the older woman said as she set down one of two glasses of some sort of hard liquor.

Whitaker watched the younger scientist's brow furrow slightly as she hesitated at her words. She watched the young, pretty, and heavily battered woman pick up the fine, crystal glass and take a sip. The scotch burned as it slid down her throat, churning her stomach as it took residence there. She coughed, sputtering a little at the strength of the alcohol. It had been a long time since she had indulged in some hard liquor. Whitaker only gave a brief smirk before she started.

"Miss Desmond, I'm going to be blunt. You took a hell of a beating earlier this week. What you did in that lab was reckless. After Gemma Murray's death, I contacted the board and sent in a request to terminate Subject U-PG013," she said, pausing to see Desmond's reaction.

There was a mild dilation of her pupil as her eyes fixated on her and a small tick began in her jaw. Other than those details, Harley didn't say anything.

"However, the board refused my proposal. Although I feel that the blood samples that we have should be enough to continue research, the company thinks otherwise. An affiliate of Mr. Wesker's has come forward. We are being asked to hand over his body, but Tri-Cell isn't ready to give our new specimen up so easily. The board feels that this is our first and only chance to get a hold of Wesker's virus as well as Uroboros. But, because of the incident, the board has come to a unanimous decision to move Subject U-PG013 to a higher level facility."

"What does that have to do with me?" Harley asked, her tone unintentionally dry as she took another sip of the scotch.

"There is one more position open for another member to move over with him. They are asking for those who are familiar to the case. Though you haven't personally worked on very many G-virus carriers, you do have experience in the Uroboros strain. However small that experience is, the facility is desperate to use anything to their advantage if it means coming closer to harnessing the power of Wesker's little project."

"Why me? The Uroboros that's trying to integrate with Wesker's cells are nothing close to what I worked with. Even then, the small time frame I had with U-α wasn't enough to give me any advantage for the field."

"Well, in the small window of opportunity you did have with U-α, his research team didn't find it important to redact your name from his file. We've only managed to get a hold of one other scientist who worked on it with him. The rest are either MIA, or dead. So, whether you find your small bit of time with the virus important or not, the company does. They want you working on this project whether you want it or not. I've opposed this in every way possible, but to no avail," she said, her hard expression suddenly softened. "I know you've been through a lot these past few days. Your quick thinking and reactions were commendable. I would understand if you didn't want to continue with the project. That's why I pushed for them to allow me to break the news to you. I felt that given some time and from me, you will come around. You'll be granted high-level clearance through the Class-A facility, and a suite in the apartment district."

"Would you be my superior?" Harley asked, her eyes staring blankly at the contents of her glass as the cogs churned in her head.

"No, Dr. Eric Zimmer will be heading the team. He's all that's left of Wesker's original members that we could find."

"Who else from my team is moving with Wesker?"

"No one else. It's just you."

"But…" Harley stammered, thinking back to the e-mail Kevin had sent her earlier.

"Look, this is the only opportunity you're going to get to move forward for a while. I suggest you take it."

Harley thought for the longest time. She was going to be dropped in the middle of a team that had decades of experience under their belt. She would have a permanent superior always looking over her shoulder. Wesker's face would remind her constantly of the horrible event that happened in the research lab. All she could think about was poor Gemma. She had worked with the woman for almost a year now and was the closest thing to a friend Harley had in a while. Taking a heavy swig of the scotch in her hand, she set the glass down loudly on the surface of Whitaker's desk. Her cold grey eyes watched her as Harley's spine straightened. Gathering her composure, she stood, looking down at Miss Whitaker. A look of hot, determination flashed in her eyes. Gemma would be avenged. Harley would do everything in her power to finish the job and Gemma's vengeance would play out in the form of her taking Wesker apart …piece by piece.

"Alright," Harley finally answered. "But on one condition."

"And what's that, Miss Desmond?"

"I'm not going into this project blind. I want to know everything about the subject. I want Wesker's files, including whatever you can gather on him. I want to know what he was doing with Uroboros. Before I get too deep into this, I want to know everything about that tyrant, down to his genetic make-up."

Whitaker scoffed at her, "Those are some heavy demands, Desmond. That information is 'need to know' only, and as from what I recall, you weren't on that list." Pausing to take in Harley's bruised and angered expression, she continued. "I will do everything in my power to get what the company and Wesker's affiliates will allow you. Keep in mind, they're only going to hand over what they feel will help with he research. That information is only privileged to certain people, and I only hold so much sway."

Whitaker pulled a cigarette from a fancy little case and lit it with a click of a lighter. With a crimson talon, she pushed a couple of buttons on her office phone and a man's voice came over the speaker.

"Send Patricia up to my office and find someone who can get a hold of Ms. Wong. Make sure they know it's of utmost importance," she said before standing up and walking around the desk to lean on it, just inches from Harley. "This is the beginning of the greatest part of your career with Tri-Cell. I recommend you don't screw it up. Both your and my reputation count on it. I will get you whatever I can. The rest is up to you. We only have so much time before we either terminate project U-PG013 or sell him back to his affiliate. Do you think you can start working soon?"

"I guess…just give me a tour of the place and I'll do as much as I can until I can get whatever I need. Maybe Dr. Zimmer can fill me in on some information."

Whitaker gave her a nod just as someone knocked on the door.

"I can get you a temporary pass that you will have to sign for at the front desk until we get your information changed in the system. At the end of the day, you're required to turn in the temp badge until yours comes in," she said as she opened her office door. "This is Patricia. She will show you around, get you signed up for the temp badge, and get your paperwork ready. Welcome to the team, Miss Desmond."

Patricia led her on a long tour that lasted a better part of the morning. She mainly showed her where she was going to be working and whom she was going to be working with. She had barely caught a glimpse of Zimmer who was hanging diligently over the shoulder of a fellow scientist. Wesker's body was floating in the stasis tube, hooked up to so many different monitors and supply tanks. It was an eerie sight. One that brought tears to her eyes. Zimmer had caught a glance of the two of them as they passed through, his gaze watching her like a hawk. His face was that of a seasoned researcher. The lines that marked his face proved that the man had seen a lot of things in his life. He had the air of a gentleman that couldn't be surprised anymore. His stare was unsettling as it followed them until they were out of site. So, Zimmer worked closely with Wesker. Surely he had some information to give her.

This was where she wasted so many hours of her life over the next few weeks. The blood samples they had taken were barely enough to go on. Some of the researchers had already started on testing them. Her first day in, Zimmer had handed her a vial, stating that she already knew what to do and left her there. For three weeks, he watched her work diligently at her station, neither commenting nor critiquing on the work she had done. He just ghosted around the room, taking down notes. She, however, had learned quite a few things with Wesker's blood under the scope. It was another long night. The digital clock glared 3:23 a.m. in crimson. A lone guard stood at the door, quiet and diligent with his work. The days she had been here, he had ignored her and she had ignored him, allowing for peaceful work. Tonight wasn't much different. The only lights that remained in the lab were those at her workstation and the small lights that illuminated Wesker's stasis tank.

Something had slowed Wesker's virus down, killing the cells even. It looked like it was a prior symptom before the Uroboros had infected his body. This was keeping his Progenitor strand from fighting off the secondary infection. All of the original viruses from Umbrella were children of the original Progenitor. Most of them had recognizable traits that all new scientists were trained to look for when they first joined Tri-Cell. It wasn't as basic as the original Progenitor, but it didn't look anything like the original T-Virus and wasn't even close to the G-Virus. In all possibility, the oddity could have been caused by the death of the cells. There was no way she was going to be sure until she could obtain a fresh sample and find some living cells. Leaning back from the digital microscope, she looked at the image through the little monitor. With a few keystrokes, she took a screenshot and sent it to print.

Dr. Zimmer slipped out of his office, catching sight of her hunched over her desk with her back to him. The only sound in the room was the quiet settling of a printer going back to sleep and the stasis tank churning. He stood there and watched for the longest time. She was obviously frustrated with something. He gave the guard a silent nod with his head and the guard slipped out of the pressure lock doors. Leaving them alone. The guard's unexpected exit distracted her for a moment before she turned back to what she was doing. He laid his lab coat over the back of a chair and set his coffee mug down, just loud enough to snap her to attention. She spun around in her chair, those doe-like hazel eyes peering over her reading glasses showed obvious surprise to see him there.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked, her voice soft and strained from lack of sleep.

"Has anyone told you how un-healthy your work habits are?" he said as he stepped closer to her.

His voice was a deep purr. Though he was very soft-spoken, the man had a voice that commanded your attention. And it did just what he wanted too, because all of her attention was on him.

"I, uh…It's just a habit. I don't really have anything better to do," she said with a nervous laugh.

He stood there, lighting a cigarette nonchalantly even though there was a no-smoking policy in the building. As a lead scientist, it was easy to get away with a lot of things. The click from his zippo shattered the ambient silence as he fingered the printed image of Wesker's cell. He flipped through the pages of her notes, skimming them in silence as she sat there like a student being graded on a pop quiz.

"So, you want to tell me what you've been up to?" he asked, taking a long drag from the cigarette before letting the smoke filter out through a sigh.

At first, Harley couldn't come up with the words. She just sat there, nervously straightening the papers in her manila folder.

"I…I, uh…think I might have found an anomaly," she said handing him the image.

He took another puff from his cancer stick before offering it to her.

"Here, have a smoke since you obviously need it, and tell me what the hell I'm looking at."

His smile was coy. She blushed as she took the smoldering cig from is large fingers and took a drag from it with a shaking hand. There was a gleam in his eyes. The man was intelligent. She knew he was testing her. His years of experience should have made the anomaly as apparent as a neon sign in a window. He wanted to see what she thought. Smoke danced from her lightly bruised lips as she prepared her words.

"The Uroboros is fighting for dominance over his body…but you already knew that. There's a secondary virus that looks like it's held residence in his cells for quite some time. Years, maybe. What Tri-Cell believes to be a strain of the G-virus integrated into his system…isn't. I don't recognize it sir. Maybe it's an earlier mutation of the Progenitor?"

"Ok, is there anything else?" he said, lighting a second cigarette for himself.

"I don't want to say for sure, because I can't prove it. I need a fresh sample for some more research. If that's ok?"

"What is it you're trying to prove or disprove, Miss Desmond?"

She swallowed nervously, "Some of his cells are dead or damaged…and I don't think it's from Uroboros."

"What are you suggesting?" he asked, his face regaining its usual serious expression.

"I need some fresh samples to make sure, but I think there's an outside factor. I think something is damaging and maybe even killing his virus. With his virus dying, he's unable to fight off Uroborus. It's as if this strain of Progenitor is the only thing keeping him alive."

Zimmer let out a heavy sigh and handed the print back to her, "To my office, Desmond."

Her stomach dropped. Had she done something wrong? She watched him retreat to his office door, snatching his coffee mug from a neighboring station and using it to flick ashes into. It reminded her of the cigarette in her hand. It had burned itself, and a nicely sized piece of ash had fallen into her lap. She cursed as she tried to dust it off and stood, only to leave a nasty smudge in her lap. Trudging behind Dr. Zimmer, she followed him into his office where he flicked on the light and sat down in his large chair, propping his feet up on his desk. He motioned to the chair on the other side where she took a seat nervously. He slid his ashtray towards her, in turn using the mug he had perched on his stomach for himself.

"Do you remember your condition that you gave Ms. Whitaker a few weeks back?" he asked, his face emotionless as well as his voice.

Harley nodded as she took a drag off her cigarette.

"Whitaker was unable to get anything out of Wesker's affiliate. Meaning, she was unable to gather information for you. I worked for Mr. Wesker under the advisement of Tri-Cell's CEO Excella Gionne. I was with his team when he adopted the U-α project. There is a strict confidentiality policy with this project. I am also a very close friend with Wesker's affiliate. We feel that it could breach certain security if we were to release that information. The anomaly you're talking about wasn't really supposed to be discovered. I've been doing everything that I can to keep it under wraps, because it was Wesker's main wish to keep his Progenitor strain out of company hands. This is why his affiliate is doing everything in their power to recover him. You're a very dedicated worker, Miss Desmond. I admire that. However, I'm going to warn you. You're stepping into something that you might not be able to get out of. So, I'm giving you the only warning I have. Clean your station, give me your file, and go to bed.

When you return tomorrow, you will act like tonight never happened. The information you know will suddenly vanish from your memory. Or," he said, opening up a drawer and pulling out a heavy stack of folders and dropping them loudly in front of her. "You could take this into consideration, read it like it's your bible and take every ounce of information there to ensure that Wesker recovers. But, I'm telling you this now. There's no turning back if you open that folder. I'm entrusting you to full confidentiality. Whitaker knows nothing of this. Tri-Cell knows nothing. I plan to keep it this way by any means necessary."

Those last words were a threat, and she wouldn't put it past him to ensure the information stayed silent. She stared at him for the longest moment, trying to swallow her nerves as she glanced at the huge stack of manila folders. All of her answers where there. Uroborus…the Progenitor. She was being offered and opportunity of a lifetime…but at what cost? She watched Zimmer stand from his chair and walk around his desk, killing the smoldering butt in the ashtray in front of her.

"Miss Desmond, you have great potential. And I'd hate to see something happen to it. A smart person knows their limits. It would be in your best interest to find yours," he said, finalizing the conversation as he left his office.

He didn't bid her a farewell, didn't offer a smile, or anything else. He walked into the lab, picked up his coat and disappeared through the pressure lock doors. He paused next to the guard standing there. He didn't even look up at him.

"You know what to do if she leaves. Notify me if anything happens."

"Yes sir," the guard said, checking his pocket for the syringe he had no qualms about using…