June 1990 –
8 Years Before Raccoon City Incident
Consciousness slammed into her, making her come to with a sharp jolt as if she'd been shocked into it. Her gaze swam as she simultaneously tried to coordinate the balance to swing her legs into place to support her. Clearly her mind and her body were not on the same page, one was racing and the other was sluggish.
"Easy...easy...," arms curled about her, almost as if cradling her, "few others come back from the grave so quick to push themselves off the operating table."
Death? That was the first she heard of it. Her tone was as shaky as her body was slow, "What happened?"
"An outbreak, a minor one but we were lucky to save you at all."
"An outbreak of what?" she blinked, as if filtering out one of her senses would make her racing mind stop. It didn't, if anything the stream of her thoughts plowed onward utterly unabated. If there had been an outbreak then she'd not done her job right. The doctors looked at each other, quite obviously debating whether to tell her the truth. When it became obvious that keeping the truth was more likely to agitate than calm her any time soon they finally answered with notable reluctance, "The T-virus, it was mishandled badly."
"But well contained," one of them added hastily.
"Am I infected?"
"Yes," the voice was slow and palpable, the tone emanating reluctance to answer any further inquiries but seeing no way out of it.
"Put me down, why have you not put me through?! That would have been the more humane thing to do. I will NOT be a monster!"
"I can't, I couldn't. Your father ordered that I do everything in my power to save you!"
"And what of my wishes? Do I not have the right to decide what happens to my body?
"Not as it stands now," he admitted uncomfortably, "you are a minor...," he took in a breath and was about to continue when another voice broke into the conversation.
"And that decision lies with me!"
Her father would have been pleased, his tone was so authoritative that it commanded the attention of everyone in that room including her but she recovered, so much was her distress. Even if the vaccine was administered there was no guarantee that it would work and its viability, its chance of saving her was less the longer the virus had to gestate within her. As she calculated her rage rose, her father had plenty of scientists to give him information, enough to make an informed decision but she expected better of him than this, she had expected him to make the right decision...for ONCE. He was never a sentimental man and shouldn't have had any qualms about pulling the plug on her before shit got serious, got out of control.
Furiously her eyes broke away from his and fixated on a table of medical instruments, a few empty vials, gauze, and most importantly, a scalpel. If he couldn't make the right decision she was willing to force his hand, to die a final death that was beyond his ability to fix it out of selfishness.
"No!" the scientists were slow, unable to read the thoughts going through her mind at a glance but her Father was more perceptive, he hadn't gotten to the top of a company like Umbrella through being stupid, he saw the decision dawning within her eyes and pushed the medical cart out of her reaching hands.
Her nails raked against his skin and before she could stop herself she fell off the examining table altogether. She cried out in pain, the impact knocking the wind out of her. She could see the doctors scrambling to remove the sharps in the room and knew her chance at self-inflicted euthanasia was gone. She screamed in frustration, wondering if outright anger would penetrate her Father's brain where logic had not, "I should have died before you did this, before you turned to this deranged scientific sorcery! Is me being alive worth possibly unleashing a biohazard upon an innocent and unsuspecting public?!"
"I had the power to bring you back and I have but you are NOT contagious," she looked skeptical, "the virus is spent to sustain you! To heal the wrongs done to you during this...incident. Can someone please explain this to her before she attempts suicide again? Issacs!"
The lead doctor came forward and seeing that she wasn't going to get up, bent to his knees to speak to her. She asked the first question, it was frank and to the point, "How did I get infected?"
"I exposed you to the virus on your Father's directives. You were not infected in the initial incident but you; you sustained damage that would have killed you had we not intervened. You sustained damage to the brain which ceased to communicate with your body. If not for the T-virus as an interceptive measure you would have gone brain dead, The T-virus, for you, is necessary, you can't survive without it but because its being used it doesn't warp or mutate uncontrollably. It is, as your Father says, you are not contagious because the virus is spent to sustain you. You are not a vessel that can convey it to others. The damage is beyond our ability to repair, you will require intensive remedial therapy with the application of this virus for an indefinite amount of time."
She gazed at him, stone-faced even as her mind raced to comprehend what she did not want to, it was bad enough that she owed her life to its use but now it seemed as if she could not survive without the repugnant virus. She could have accepted it in Angela's case but not her own, Angie had been born with her deficiency, unable to influence it through any other way but the virus but she was, through her own stupidity, forced into symbiosis with something she rather die than mess with but even that, thanks to her father, was beyond her reach Two more years, two more and she'd be able to decide her own fate. In the mean time, she conceded her defeat in this with a dignified air; she showed no more lack of control by raging unchecked at this new news. She regally tilted her head, she did not like this but she acknowledged that she possessed no means to get out of the situation as things stood.
In the mean time she have to find something to live for. She never expected that she'd find someone too live for.
December 1990 –
8 Years before Raccoon City Incident
His name was Bartholomew 'Bart' Kaplan who decidedly preferred to be referred to by his surname, in her opinion for obvious reasons. Their meeting had been chance, a chance that her Father surely cursed especially when he impulsively proposed to her and she, despite her minority, had accepted just as impulsively.
Spencer was less than pleased when the two of them had bravely paraded their love match before his eyes at a private dinner. He had expected to be able to intimidate the male, to convince him that his daughter was better left alone while at the same time reminding himself that this was not his daughter whom he had killed. The distinction didn't matter though, to the world this was his daughter so he was better off to act as if this was his own. The man was young but older than his daughter by a solid eight years, he had to be one of the best in his field for the sheer reason he was a member in One's team, the best of the best in Umbrella's Security Division. He decided that he'd not be impulsive and threaten this man's job; he might very well leave employment to marry his daughter regardless. Then again maybe if he removed any benefit from marrying her he'd drop her like a hot cake and he could make overtures for Valete to return with him to France for a 'suitable' match. Valete clearly hoped for this to be a affable meet & greet but within one bombshell of a statement he turned it on its head making it into a crude and calculating negotiation, "You will sign a pre-marital agreement."
It was not a question, Valete instantly looked scandalized, shooting him a glacial glare but he continued, might as well get everything out in the open, "In the event of your divorce or separation, which I believe seems likely, you will get NOTHING from her!"
He had to give the man credit; he stood his ground and recovered, "What of our children?"
"No matter what happens between us our children will never pay the price for it. If you cannot provide for them I will," Valete said, cutting off whatever answer her Father prepared.
"Don't get any illusion of a favorable custody ruling. Children belong with their mother," finally, his upset got the better of him and he revealed another reason he disapproved of the match, "I do not like this match. Research & Development and Security were meant to be parallel, side by side but never may they meet."
"I assume," Valete said acidly in bad temper, "that since you are talking about the aftermath of our marriage that you will allow it to take place."
Spencer looked back to his daughter, a scowl formed on his face, he knew he must look like he sucked on a particular sour lemon and indeed that is the kind of reaction rose in him when he thought of his daughter's nuptials. Valete had always been a lovable rebel, a novelty to the press, loved because they could always count on her to do something unconventional and unexpected. A low-grade marriage for her station, a middle-class American wedded to a wealthy heiress raised amidst the European aristocracy and bred to take over the most successful companies in the world? Clearly though she had no care for his reputation any more than she had a care for her own, "I didn't say that you could," he said, uncharacteristically stalling for time.
"Then it is good that we speak of arrangements in regards to children. I am pregnant!" she declared bluntly.
Spencer had learned a lesson in trust when his daughter had betrayed him and since then had her imposter kept far away from the labs for 'medical reasons'. By saying that she could benefit from fresh air and city interaction above ground he had conveniently used it as a front to keep her from compromising the work taking place beneath the Arklay Mansion in the future. It had never occurred to him that this could come back to haunt him in another way, that the AI could develop a meaningful relationship with other humans to that point that he would have' to worry about her causing a scandal by falling in love or bearing illegitimate children. True to Valete's personality the AI was just as spirited, strong willed and willing to fight for what she wanted. That part of Valete, thought infuriating, reminded him of himself.
How had something like this escaped his attention? Or that of his staff? They were supposed to watch and care for her. Clearly he given her too much of a lead line, too much room to wander and now there were consequences. He was up against the wall and he didn't much like it. Either he could consent to the marriage despite how ill matched they were socially and have the child declared legitimate OR he could deny them permission to marry and weather the scandal that would result of an illegitimate bastard. To shoulder the cost of the likely divorce would be worth circumventing an illegitimate birth, "You can marry but don't expected this to be a celebrated affair, I consent but do not approve, if you take this path you pay for the wedding on your own."
"That won't be necessary. It will be a small affair, as small as we can make it. A judge, the two of us, and witnesses. A former colleague of mine has agreed to stand in as my own witness. You don't even need to be there, I only need your consent," it was a very cold thing to say and he thought about saying she shouldn't count on him coming but appearances won out once again.
For a long while, he had been pitching a story to the media that things had been getting better between them, failing to show for his daughter's wedding would raise a red flag that it wasn't true and all the work would be a waste. Spencer smiled, it was as empty and cold as Valete's, "I wouldn't miss it.
"Is it even possible for her to conceive?!"
He paced as he questioned Issacs, the doctor who had so carefully managed Valete's health since she returned from the grave looked at him, his tone apologetic as he delivered an answer he didn't want to hear, "It's improbable but wholly possible. The tests I had done leave no margin for error. She has conceived but I do not expect she will successfully carry it to term. The frequency of injections will put stress on and likely will kill the fetus long before it reaches maturity. I wouldn't worry about it, death can appear and even mimic life but I don't believe that life can be created from death."
A/N: This chapter posed varying difficulties for me, some parts were easy and other parts were hard to write. Valete is a new kind of character, although she is brilliant she is not a security expert nor a researcher, she is a socialite and lives under rules of social etiquette. I tried really hard to portray these rules (and consequences for breaking them) in old man Spencer's point of view. The plot is also kind of dry because this is a bridge chapter. There is LOTS to portray next chapter which takes place 8 years later (in 1998) and the plot will hit a lot closer to home since the Mansion & Raccoon City outbreaks take place in 1998.