Jeez guys, there's really no excuse for how long this update has taken. I feel kinda bad for this delay, and I'm sorry if you thought I'd abandoned you. I haven't; I just suddenly developed a social life and school work. Now that summer break is coming, I should have more time to write, since everyone (including me) will be sequestered away to do their work and study. And of course, once the school year is over, I will have much more time to write. Until I get a job, but that's another story.
So. Thank you, readers who have stayed faithful through my long absence, and please go vote on the poll I put on my profile some weeks ago. You will be voting on a short side-fic to this one that is in the same universe to What If and operates on the same premise, but the plot revolves around the What If-ified version of Code: Veronica. If I ever get around to rewriting this fic – a temptation, even though I haven't even finished writing it – then I'll probably end up including that in it, but until then, it can be a side-plot.
But yeah… this chapter will kinda suck. I got partway through it, ground to a halt for some time, and picked it up when my Muse's cooperation was grudging at best. Please forgive me. I think it'll improve when the action picks up next chapter – for the next chapter begins the RE5 scenario. =D This will be very fun.
Jill stared at her fiancé in obvious skepticism. "You're telling me you want to infect yourself with another virus? Isn't the one you have bad enough, Albert?" He had come home early from work that day and sat her down to discuss it with her – given what he wanted to do, she was glad he'd consulted her about it.
"You've seen yourself how unstable the one I have is, my dear. What I'm planning on doing will, if all goes well, make sure it stops destabilizing. The problem with Arklay is that it has not gone into latency after fully amplifying through my body. Most Progenitor-based viruses, if they infect a compatible host, will become inactive once they insert their genetic material every cell in the host's body. Arklay has not done that, which is why I have the problem I do," he explained patiently. "The virus I plan on using has been heavily modified so that its only effects are the ones I want. I modified the t-virus because I already know its ins and outs, and because to some extent it already does something like what I want it to do."
"And what is it supposed to do?"
"Simply to force Arklay into latency." Arklay was the name Albert had chosen to give the virus he had contracted in the mansion those six years ago; a fitting name, he thought.
Jill quirked an eyebrow. "That sounds a little too easy. I'm sure I wouldn't understand the specifics, so don't bother. I just have one question: what are the risks?"
He sighed slightly: a sure sign that she might not like what he was about to say. "When the new virus is first introduced I will become ill for a short period of time until it assimilates into my cells – or until my body destroys it. There is always a chance that my immune system will be able to eliminate the infection. That illness will probably not be very comfortable for me, and yes, there is a chance that some permanent damage could occur. However, that chance is low. I've run enough tests on this virus that I'm fairly certain nothing should go awry."
"What do you mean by 'permanent damage'?" she asked, with a slight edge to her voice.
Albert glanced to one side. "Death is always a possibility, but more likely what will happen is mutation. To what extent is uncertain, but it will be enough to notice."
A deep sigh escaped Jill's lips, and she looked down at where her hands were fisted tensely in front of her on the table. "What exactly is the chance of that happening? You said it was low. How low?"
He reached forward to grasp her hands in his. "Less than one percent, dear heart. I've been working on this for over a year; I wouldn't even suggest it unless I'd gotten it as close to perfection as possible."
Less than one percent sounded… tolerable. "I suppose I'm gonna have to trust your judgment on this," she remarked, sounding slightly resigned. "I take it your higher-ups in SAARIBOW know you're doing this?"
Albert curled his fingers under Jill's chin so that she looked up into his face. "Jill, if you're not comfortable with me doing this, then I won't. That's why we're having this discussion: you'll be my wife soon, so you're entitled to a say in matters like this. It's not like it's a matter of life and death – I've been doing just fine for the past few years on the serum injections. This step just removes the necessity of the serum, which consumes time and resources to synthesize." Hearing that he was giving her a say was heartening for Jill; being such an individualistic, private person, he had a tendency to keep things like this to himself. "And yes, I have kept my superiors informed. I didn't want to go behind their backs like I did the Organization: this job I plan to keep. I'm arranging everything with them, including the use of one of SAARIBOW's quarantining areas."
"Quarantine? Why would you need to do that?" she asked.
"Because when I become ill from the new infection, there is a strong chance that the interacting viruses will become highly contagious. I don't want to run the risk of anyone else contracting anything, so I will have to be isolated until the symptoms pass and everything settles down. It could take up to a month until it's safe for me to leave since it's procedure to give it a week or ten days after the last symptoms cease before doing anything."
"A month?" Jill repeated, slightly incredulous. "When are you planning to do it?"
"As soon as I can get everything arranged," he answered.
She chuckled wryly. "The symptoms must really be unpleasant, then."
He gave an ironic snort. "I don't anticipate enjoying it much. My immune system is stronger now than it was before, making me immune to almost all illnesses that plague humanity. The only exception seems to be other Progenitor-based viruses, and the reaction of one virus to another tends to be rather spectacular. Especially considering the changes that the new virus will be making. However, as far as I am concerned, the long-term results are worth the immediate discomfort. PG67 was meant to be a stop-gap measure until I could figure out a more permanent solution; I didn't plan on relying on it for as long as I have. I will be very glad to leave behind the hassle it presents." Having to keep syringes of the serum stockpiled made him feel rather nervous, for if anyone who wanted him dead found them, they had a very effective weapon to use against him. And having to repeatedly inject himself, once every two to three weeks, was irritating. He didn't enjoy feeling like an addict.
Jill regarded her fiancé. "Truthfully, Albert, do you think it will work? If you're confident that everything will turn out as planned and nothing too serious has a high risk of going wrong, then I'm all right with it. I may not know much about the virus, but I do know that I don't want to lose you, especially so close to our wedding."
"I am quite sure, dear heart. As I just said, if I wasn't confident in it, then I wouldn't suggest it. I've been working with one of the other researchers who has experience with these viruses, and he shares my opinion," he said, meeting her gaze solemnly.
"Then, I guess that gives me no good reason not to agree." She chuckled. "Intellectually I don't have much problem with it, but after my experience in Raccoon I can't help but have some misgivings anyway."
"I understand that completely, Jill. And believe me when I say I wouldn't do this if it wasn't going to make significant improvements. Just because I've adapted to being infected doesn't mean I want to make it worse." He sighed slightly and sat up straighter. "But that issue won't come up again until I get clearance from SAAIBOW; for now we have other priorities."
Jill laughed at the tone of long-suffering that crept into his voice. "You'll plan and organize high-risk missions to raid Umbrella bases any day of the week, but a wedding is beyond you, huh?" At the grimace he pulled, she grinned. "Then again, you are a male. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. At least we have help."
"I must admit, Claire has been very helpful. Though sometimes her assistance is a little too much," Albert remarked.
"She means well," Jill asserted, smiling. "Sometimes, I admit, she goes a little far, but I don't blame her. It's just the way she is."
She stood next to him in the quarantining room as he prepared to administer the heavily-modified virus. "I know I've asked this way too many times, but –" Jill began, but Albert cut her off.
"I'm very sure of what I'm doing, and there's a low chance that anything will go wrong," he assured her patiently. "Don't worry, Jill. I'll be fine."
She smiled wryly and squeezed his hand. "You've said it enough that I should believe you, I know. I'll cut it out now. I'm just worried about you."
Albert cupped her cheek with his free hand and leaned forward to kiss her softly. "It's all right, dear heart, I understand."
From a speaker set into the wall, another voice spoke. "Whenever you're ready, Dr. Wesker. We're all set up here."
He waved to indicate that he'd heard them, then picked up the hypodermic needle that he'd already prepped. Jill eyed the clear fluid inside the syringe. Albert sensed her trepidation and held out his hand for her to take. She took it with a slight smile. Even with as many times as he'd reassured her that all would be fine, she was still a little nervous; something he couldn't blame her for in the least. As he inserted the needle into his arm and pushed the plunger to inject the fluid, Jill found herself unable to take her eyes off the needle.
***
Within eight hours of the new virus' introduction into his body, his immune system had reacted to the invasion. The onset of the symptoms was abrupt and harsh, like he'd slammed head-first into a brick wall. Albert hadn't expected to feel anything for at least thirty-six hours; instead, he was stirred from sleep in the middle of the night as all the signs of a crippling migraine descending with an alacrity that was mildly frightening. Along with the blinding headache, extreme sensitivity to light and sound, and intense nausea, he vaguely sensed other symptoms surface. He recognized the aching fatigue all over his body, cold sweat and uncontrollable shivering as counterparts to the migraine that he experienced when his virus became unstable. His vision swam and blurred while vertigo made the world buck and spin around him.
Albert had expected this to happen, though not as suddenly or rapidly. He had stockpiled a supply of PG67 that would get his through the process; however, with the acutely disoriented state he found himself in, getting to them would be a challenge. Still, survival instincts drove him to roll gingerly off of the cot and make his way across to the cooler where the syringes were stored. His progress was slow, and he had to grasp the nearest solid objects for support and balance as he went, but eventually he made it the scant six feet to the cooler. Swallowing back vomit, Albert pried the cooler open and retrieved a syringe. It nearly slipped from his fingers several times, so violently were his muscles shaking, but one way or another he managed to get the needle into his flesh and inject the serum. The tyrant slumped onto the floor, his back against a cabinet, and waited for the serum to take effect. The speaker came to life. The attendant keeping an eye on his progress asked if he needed assistance. He denied it; there was nothing to do but wait now that he'd gotten the serum into his system.
Gradually, the pain and nausea faded, leaving him drained and weak. He lacked the energy to get back up and make it back to the cot, so he fell back into an uneasy doze where he sat, and spent the few hours left until daylight drifting in and out of sleep. The speaker awoke him again. "Are we alive?" asked the SAARIBOW researcher who had been working with him on this project, Dr. Davis.
Albert cracked his eyes open blearily. "I think so," he sighed.
"It looks like your symptoms came on early… we should have foreseen that. I apologize for the inattentive watch last night."
He waved a hand. "Our guard was down; I don't blame you. Either way, the emergency was averted." Albert took a deep breath and expelled it in a heavy sigh.
"Well, now we know better. Does PG67 work the same way still?" Davis inquired.
"It isn't as effective, but that's probably more due to the severity of the instability rather than any interference from the new virus. Still, it does its job well enough that I'm not inclined to risk overdosing. I can tolerate a little discomfort." With a grunt, Albert levered himself upright; he swayed in place and had to grab the countertop to avoid falling over. There was still some lingering vertigo making the ground roll under him, and his whole body was still gripped by periodic bouts of subtle shivering, but these and the other remaining symptoms had receded enough that he could more easily move about the room.
"That's probably wise considering we don't know what an OD would do to you in this state," Davis remarked. "A meal is on its way. Do you need anything else?"
Albert had an empty hypodermic needle in hand and was preparing to draw blood. He answered absentmindedly over his shoulder. "Not at the moment, thank you." The speaker clicked off and he took a blood sample from himself for testing. He almost regretted the fact that SAARIBOW didn't have very many cryostasis tanks: being in suspended animation would save him a lot of discomfort and was overall a safer method for regulating processes like this. However, such an action was too like something Umbrella would do for any BSAA employee to feel comfortable doing, and at any rate he wouldn't have stood for being treated like a test subject.
Shortly after discarding the needle and sending off the blood sample, a buzz alerted him to the fact that his breakfast had arrived. He made his way across to the door, pausing to lean against the wall until he heard the door on the other side close; between the quarantine and the rest of the base was a small antechamber acting as a gray zone to buffer the base from possible leakage of infectious agents. Once the gray zone was closed off, he opened the door to retrieve the tray that had been left for him, and retreated back into the quarantine room.
While waiting on word back from the blood sample, he ate. He still felt mildly nauseous and had no appetite, but he knew that not eating was worse, and at least it killed time. The food was bland but nutritious, and tailored more toward a carnivore, since taxing his system with too much plant matter when he was already queasy would not end well. Once he was finished with the meal, Albert made his way back over to the cot. He wasn't quite exhausted just from performing the simple tasks of walking around the room, but the heavy, aching fatigue still gripped his muscles, so he wasn't willing to risk pushing himself.
There was a computer console on the desk next to the cot; its screen came to life with a small window in the center flashing impatiently. Albert reached over to accept the video call, and the screen was overtaken by an image of Dr. Davis. "I have good news and bad news," he remarked mildly.
Albert wasn't surprised. "Tell on."
Davis glanced to one side, at a second computer screen off camera. "The good news is that, if the rate at which TyAW is spreading stays the same, the whole process should be over sooner than we thought. Your immune system doesn't seem to quite know what to think of it, so for the most part the virus is left to its own devices. That is, until Arklay comes into the picture – and that leads me to the bad news."
"Arklay amplifies aggressively to take over my immune system and battle the new infection, I take it? So while I keep it at bay with PG67 all is well, but once it wears off I'll have my hands full," Albert stated. It hadn't been difficult for him to realize what was going on. He had designed the new virus, which he and the other SAARIBOW researchers on the project had named TyAW, to do exactly what it was doing: to present itself as harmless to leukocytes and then take those cells over, turning them from protectors to Trojan horses, and using them as vehicles to spread through the body. A human's immune system would be completely fooled, and within a day, they would have completely succumbed. That was why he had opted to use the t-virus as the basis for TyAW, since the t-virus was already frighteningly good at attacking and subduing the human immune system. It was an elegant design, if he said so himself.
Elegant, and if anyone with ill intentions ever got a hold of the research he had done to make it, the world would be doomed. Albert was actually rather surprised that the BSAA had allowed this sort of research to take place, considering the fact that its end result was possibly the most insidious virus in existence. It was sobering to think of, really; it reminded him of one of his catch-phrases from Umbrella. There's practically no difference between researching a cure and researching a bio-weapon. He was sure that his BSAA superiors were well aware of this, which was why he was only doing this under strict watch.
Davis nodded, bringing Albert out of his moment of brooding. "Exactly. And from the looks of it, the episodes of instability will get increasingly worse with time until TyAW goes lysogenic. That's the gist of it; I'll send you the info shortly."
The next several hours passed uneventfully; Albert spent most of the day drifting in and out of a light doze. In the early afternoon, however, Jill dropped by to pay her fiancé a visit, only to find out that the full quarantine had already been imposed; needless to say, she was slightly concerned. She petitioned Dr. Davis and was allowed onto the computer in his lab that connected to the one in the quarantine room so that she could at least talk to him.
When Albert accepted the call and the camera on his end fed the image onto her screen, Jill's brow immediately furrowed in concern. "Albert, you look terrible. Are you all right?"
The tyrant chuckled. "Thank you for the compliment, Jill," he said ironically. "And yes, for now I'm fine. The symptoms came on earlier than we expected, but we caught them before anything had a chance to go wrong."
Jill couldn't help but smile. If he was able to crack a joke, then he couldn't be in horrible shape: his sense of humor tended to go down the drain if he didn't feel well. "I'm glad you caught it in time. Anything else to report? Do we know how long it'll take?"
"Well, since it's being so aggressive this early, we're thinking that it might only be a week to ten days. Of course, once the symptoms pass we'll need to give my system a few days , to avoid a relapse and make sure it isn't contagious; so I'd say two weeks, if things keep up the way they have," he explained, absently running one hand through his hair. "Perhaps sooner, perhaps later."
She noticeably brightened. "That soon?"
A smile tugged at his lips. "Do you miss me that much already, dear heart?"
"Takoa does; I just miss having the extra help around the apartment," Jill teased, earning herself a chuckle from her fiancé.
***
True to his prediction, the symptoms had faded to nothing by the time nine days had passed. This came much to Albert's relief, since he had been forced to underdose serum the entire time to avoid any negative reactions once TyAW fulfilled its purpose. There had been close shaves similar to the first night in which Albert was hard-pressed to get the PG67 into his system before he went critical; however, those possible disasters were avoided. After the first one or two times it happened they got better at predicting when the episodes would take place, though they remained somewhat unpredictable.
Albert spent another three days in the quarantine, and when he was deemed fully recovered and not contagious, he was finally released. A change of clothes was left for him in the gray zone; he was glad to be in his own clothing again. Nothing from the quarantine room besides his person was to leave, to avoid letting any contagion escape into the base: a necessary precaution considering the nature of the viruses. The tyrant stepped out of the gray zone for the first time in nearly two weeks and was nearly bowled over. Jill had come up behind him and tackled him. With her arms locked around his waist, Jill buried her face into his shoulderblades happily. Chris strolled up after her, smiling in amusement at his friend's antics.
"I missed you too, my dear," Albert chuckled. He loosened Jill's arms enough that he could turn to face her, then leaned down to kiss her.
Chris playfully rolled his eyes and coughed a laugh when Jill elbowed him. "Ow! Easy, Jill, I was kidding."
Dr. Davis approached; he was unable to keep a slight smile from his features to see the interactions of the three ex-S.T.A.R.S.. Most of the SAARIBOW researchers were used to seeing Wesker when the tyrant was focused on his work: he was polite and worked smoothly with the others on his team, but was still aloof and introspective. The easy affection he showed when around Jill or Chris was a rare sight to his coworkers. He nodded a greeting to Chris and waited, patiently, to be noticed by the other two.
As Chris approached to strike up a conversation with Davis, the older man noticed a limp in the agent's step. Davis quirked an eyebrow. "What did you do to yourself this time?" Chris was a well-known figure throughout the base, especially to the medical corps, since he had a tendency to be reckless and get himself hurt. Never severely enough to put him out of commission for long; but still, one of his titles was the Hobby of Medics.
Chris laughed lightly. "This time, I didn't do it –"
"That's a lie," Jill interrupted wryly. "Don't pull that bullshit, Chris – we were there, we saw it happen." She stepped back, out of Albert's arms, and made as if to kick the leg Chris was favoring.
He yelped before she even made contact and hopped out of the way, protesting, "You're so violent, Jill! Jeez! Gimme a break. It really wasn't my fault."
Albert just stood back, chuckling under his breath; he'd been there as well. It hadn't been a mission, but a hike: a casual excursion with the two siblings, Sherry, Albert, and Jill. By the time they were heading back, the sun had mostly set. In twilight's blue gloom, the humans found it more difficult to navigate the sometimes treacherous roots that crisscrossed the mountain paths. Albert had even called forward to warn the runners about the tangle of roots, but Sherry had dared challenge Chris to a race down the slope. Sherry had noticed the roots and jumped over them; Chris had had his eyes on the way ahead.
Davis chuckled at the mock-scowl Chris wore to glare at Jill and Albert. He shook his head at the pair and turned back to the older researcher. "Anyway, it's not that bad. By the time we get another mission I'll be back to normal."
"Normal? When was 'normal' a term that ever applied to you, Chris?" Albert inquired acerbically. He grinned wolfishly in response to Chris' glare while Jill laughed. He stepped past the marksman and accepted the file Davis handed him. "Thank you for your help, Dr. Davis."
"It was my pleasure," Davis replied. "I assume we'll be seeing you again soon? I'm not foolish enough to think you'll take that recommended week off."
Albert chuckled. "I'll probably take a few days," he said, feeling the significant look Jill was drilling into the back of his head.
Davis caught sight of her expression and had to chuckle. "Good! Then, I'll see you whenever you're allowed to return." With that comment eliciting mirth all around, the ex-S.T.A.R.S. took their leave.
***
Back at their apartment, with Takoa curled up once again in his lap, Albert allowed himself to unwind. He sat on the couch with one arm around Jill, his head leaned into the backrest, and breathed deeply. Jill, with her face half buried in his shoulder, smiled in contentment. "I'm glad you're back." He pulled her closer for a brief moment in response. "Though I wish you would remember to take those damn shades off – you look ridiculous when you wear them indoors. I know too much light irritates your eyes, but it's not that bright in here."
He laughed quietly and grasped the rim, but hesitated to pull them off. "Very true." Before Jill noticed the pause, he pulled the sunglasses off and looked at her. Jill's brow creased slightly. Did his eyes look different? He nodded subtly, reading her question from the expression on her face. "It was inevitable that the introduction of a new contagion would mutate Arklay slightly, and cause a few subtle changes in my body. This is the extent of it, though." The only difference was that the hair-thin rim of gold around his slitted pupils had broadened slightly, and the red-orange that radiated from that into the darker reds close to his scleras had lightened, become closer to true orange. It was hard to tell that anything had changed.
Jill frowned. "I thought you said there was a less than one percent chance that there would be mutations –"
"Less than one percent chance of significant mutations, Jill. Mutation does not always mean extra limbs. The chance of damaging changes was low. Nothing that did lasting damage happened. The mutation that did occur is so miniscule as to be negligible, and the end result is that I will no longer be dependent on PG67 to keep me alive. Isn't that an acceptable tradeoff?" Albert's voice was terse; he was still stressed from being cooped up in the quarantine, and he was fast losing patience with people questioning his decisions. He had been bombarded with "Are you sure" and "I hope you know what you're doing" from all corners since the beginning of this project and he was sick of it.
Jill leaned back from the intensity of his words. "All right, Albert," she said quietly. "I wasn't trying to criticize. I was just trying to understand. I'm sorry." She had learned long ago that when he got defensive, the best thing to do was to back off and let him calm down. He got mulish when his back was up, and that never got anyone anywhere.
The tyrant shook his head slightly, sighing. "No, I should apologize. I shouldn't have snapped at you. Forgive me for that."
Soothingly, Jill rubbed his shoulder. "It's all right, love. I don't blame you; you've been under a lot of stress lately."
Much to impatient Claire's frustration, the date for the wedding was set for early in the next year. "There's no need to rush into anything," Albert calmly assured her. "Have patience." The reason for the year's delay was simply to give the couple a chance to internalize the impending union, and to make sure that both were comfortable with and ready for this step. It was Albert's cautious nature that initiated it, and Jill saw the wisdom in it. She had no problem with waiting, for she was sure of her feelings. It also gave everyone on the guest list time to clear up their schedules to attend – people like Leon, whose job with the US government had him in Spain later that very year. Leon and the others managed to get enough time off to attend the wedding.
The guest list itself was short, since both bride and groom wanted to keep the ceremony small and intimate; most of those who would be in attendance had been in the AUM. Several years of fighting together for the same cause had knit the group close. Karen, Albert's adoptive sister, would be in attendance; however, the one person Jill had most wished to attend was unable. Her father Richard, in poor health for some time, had died in late 2002. Jill had been inconsolable at first, and that fact made the whole ceremony slightly bittersweet for her, as her beloved father could not be there to walk her down the aisle.
In the days leading up to the ceremony, the guests began to gather. The ex-AUM members decided to go out to dinner, for old times' sake; it was a chance to catch up with each other and reminisce. And it was a time for warnings. They all sat down, most of them smiling and joking; all except for Leon. His handsome features were troubled and his body bore the half-healed marks from his most recent mission that had brought him into the spotlight. He was now an American hero in the same echelon as Chris and Jill. It surprised some of the ex-AUM that Albert, who had been their leader for several years, had not risen to the same level of fame; however, the tyrant preferred obscurity – it helped that his role in the BSAA was the 'tamer' occupation of researcher, rather than field agent. He was known, but not as widely, and he liked things exactly the way they were.
Albert noticed Leon's solemn expression and gestured for everyone to quiet down. "You have something to tell us about your mission to Spain?" the tyrant asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not much has been released to the public, which seems fishy to me. What is the government hiding?" Albert had told the team years ago that his former research partner William had come dangerously close to selling his G virus research to the government; he had tried to instill in them a healthy wariness of big institutions. That hadn't stopped Leon from going to work for the Secret Service, though.
Leon leaned forward to prop his elbows on the table. "I think they're going to release my report soon – the BSAA will get a copy, that much I'm certain of. How much has been made public? I haven't bothered to keep track of the news."
"They make mention of some religious cult connected to bioweapons, but that's about the extent of it," Claire explained, frowning. She didn't like it any more than anyone else in the group.
"The cult is called Los Illuminados. It's pretty old, from what I learned, and was intimately connected to an old line of castellans. It had taken over a whole village and even the castellan – I only met one native who wasn't hostile." Leon took a deep breath. "The bioweapons part… it wasn't a bioweapon the way we think of it, but it could easily turn into one. I don't know if anyone in the BSAA knows anything about ancient parasites called Las Plagas…?" He looked to Albert, who shrugged.
"I haven't seen anything like that on our records – but then, my research is on viruses, not parasites."
"Well, there was an infestation of Las Plagas. That was how Saddler – the cult leader – recruited people. Evidently there was a mine of some sort under the village where fossilized Plagas were buried, and somehow they infected the workers. It had spread to the whole village by the time I got there, along with the entire cult membership. The castellan, Salazar, had one too, but his was different – he had a control Plaga. Saddler had a master Plaga, which gave him control of the other Plaga hosts. There was one other master Plaga. Saddler intended to give that one to Ashley; then he was going to let her be rescued and brought back to the US… and you can guess what would happen from there." Grim looks were exchanged.
"But you managed to free Ashley before that happened, I assume," Albert remarked.
"Yeah… sorta. By the time I got there, they had already given Ashley a normal Plaga egg, since they needed to be able to control her." He paused, glancing in shame to one side, rubbing his neck. "I… early in my mission, I got careless. They captured me, and injected an egg into me."
Instead of drawing back from him as he'd half expected, the group leaned closer, their expressions ranging from sympathy to suppressed horror. Claire put her hand on his arm and squeezed reassuringly. Jill opened her mouth to ask a question, but Albert lightly nudged her. Leon would continue his story; he just needed a moment to compose himself.
Taking a deep breath, Leon continued, heartened by the silent support of the team. "I almost forgot about it for some time, but I blacked out when it hatched. Several times I ran into a native called Luis who had removed his Plaga – he gave me a drug to stall the parasite. He had stolen the master Plaga sample from Saddler, but Saddler killed him and got the sample back." Leon's fists tightened at the memory. Poor Luis… "Anyway, in the end, I found a machine Luis had made that destroys the parasites, and got rid of Ashley's and my Plaga. I killed Saddler, and I almost had the master Plaga sample…" Leon broke off, growling in frustration. He looked up and locked eyes with Albert. "Ada was there. I ran into her several times throughout my mission. When I was exhausted from fighting Saddler, she held me at gunpoint and took the sample. I'm not sure who she's working for, but since she has that sample, it can't be good."
The tyrant steepled his fingers pensively. They all knew that Ada was one of the Organization's top operatives, but Albert had worked with her a few times in his stint with that group. "I trust you included that in your report?" Leon nodded. "Well, as long as the appropriate authorities get wind of it… we'll just have to wait and see."
Leon raised an eyebrow at Albert's seeming nonchalance. "You don't seem that concerned."
"I'm plenty concerned, but there isn't much we can do at the moment. You say the report will be released soon, so once the BSAA is alerted to that possible threat, they will be able to mobilize a more effective force to deal with any future outbreak of Las Plagas." Albert shrugged one shoulder. "Until we see the evidence of an outbreak of these parasites surfacing, there is no use in panicking." Nods came from the others, though Leon still seemed troubled. Even so, he surrendered to the others' wisdom. The Secret Service agent still couldn't shake the conviction, however, that Las Plagas would make a comeback.
***
A warm hand cupped Jill's cheek and pulled her from peaceful dreams. "My very dear heart, it's time to wake up," Albert murmured.
Smiling even before she got her eyes open, Jill wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a kiss. "Good morning," she sighed, content. "Today's the day, huh?"
He hummed in agreement and leaned in to kiss her again. "Are you ready?"
Jill laughed softly. "I've been ready for this for a long time, Albert. How about you?"
"My dear, you have no idea how long I've looked forward to this," he breathed. Their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss, which Albert only broke reluctantly. "I'll see you there," he promised, and was gone.
Jill reclined for a few moments in bed, savoring the anticipation that had been building for the past weeks before she rose. A mix of emotions ran rampant through her mind; excitement tempered with nervousness dominated. She wanted the whole thing to be over and done with so she could be with her beloved, but at the same time, she wanted this day and its happiness to last forever. She was rather tired – anticipation had kept her awake long after she would have otherwise surrendered to sleep – but the energy that her eagerness lent was enough to get her out of bed.
After that, the day dragged on at lightning speed; every minute seemed to last an agonizingly long time, but when she looked back, it seemed like she had only left home moments ago. Getting herself ready while activity buzzed around her, with people running to and fro intently; the whole atmosphere was one of building excitement that tightened her nerves more and more as the time approached. What was it about such events that made the heart flutter with uncertainty, despite previous conviction?
Finally, the preparations were finished and the ceremony began. Heart in her throat, Jill took her place and waited for the cue, with Chris standing at her side. He gave her a wink and a reassuring squeeze of the arm. She smiled back gratefully. She didn't know what she'd do without her brother-in-spirit. Then it was time to go.
The very passing of time seemed surreal. They reached the end of the aisle, where Chris handed her off to Albert and eased around to take his place as best man. Albert's eyes as he met her gaze were the color of chocolate thanks to contacts; he couldn't wear his sunglasses, but neither could he have his true eye color visible to all and sundry. Jill disliked the necessity, but she was willing to tolerate it for the time being.
Jill was so caught up in her own emotions and thoughts that she almost lost track of the world around them. She found herself studying his form: he stood tall and straight, as usual – the picture of cool, unflappable confidence. If he felt any nervousness at all, she couldn't tell. His usually expressionless features held a hint of tenderness, though, and the softness about his eyes and mouth reassured her. She had gotten quite good at reading his oft-understated expressions and she could tell that behind the smile that was barely there, he was just as eager as she. Every now and then, if the sermon touched on a topic he found significant, he would squeeze her hand slightly.
It seemed to Jill like the ceremony took an inordinately long time, but finally, it was time for vows to be exchanged. Did he take her as his wife? "I do," Albert said; his voice was soft, but the sincerity behind it carried the simple words to every corner of the room. Did she take him as her husband? Such a silly question. "I do," Jill echoed, her voice shaky with emotion.
There was no way to describe what she felt when their lips met. In that life-changing moment, there was nothing else to the world but the two of them and what had to be the best kiss she'd ever participated in. Albert cradled her close to him, holding her as if he never wanted to let go; neither did Jill. Loosening her arms from around his neck was almost painful. Their faces were still only centimeters apart when he breathed a heartfelt "I love you," and he sounded close to weeping. She gazed into his eyes and saw that they were glassy with unshed tears. That was all it took for the moisture beading in the corners of her eyes to flow free. He lifted his hands to her face to wipe them away.
The boisterous crowd of well-wishers shattered the timeless moment, but Jill couldn't begrudge them for long, for the outpouring of love and support exuded by those gathered made up for the intrusion. She was beset from all sides by people wanting to hug and congratulate her. This happy chaos spilled out onto the lawn, with only a brief pause for everyone to commute the short distance to the reception, which took place at the shore of the lake. There was something about the broad, tranquil expanse of water as a backdrop that was so fitting.
Guests filtered one by one into the reception. One of the first to get there to monopolize the newlyweds' attention was Karen. She trotted up to her adoptive brother and threw her arms around him, the evidence of tears clear in her puffy eyes and roughened voice. "I'm happy for you, kid. You hang onto her, got it?"
It brought a smile to Jill's lips to see Albert return the fierce embrace. "I will."
Karen turned to pull her sister-in-law into another hug. "Take care of that big lump for me," she commanded, smiling through a new round of tears. "I'm so glad you came into his life, Jill. He won't admit it, but he was lonely for a long time, and it broke my heart." Karen pulled back to hold Jill at arm's length. She chuckled under her breath. "I was so surprised when he told me he wanted to marry you that at first I thought he was kidding, but hearing him talk about you convinced me that he was serious. You have no idea how happy it made me."
"Thank you, Karen. It means a lot to me for you to be so supportive of us. And don't worry – I'll keep him in line." Jill grinned conspiratorially. She was still rather giddy with euphoria.
Karen grinned back and winked, but before the older woman could get another word out, Sherry scampered up and halfway tackled her former caretaker. Jill laughed at the reunion. Someone came up behind her and took her hand; she didn't need to look to tell it was Albert. She turned to face him, smiling tenderly up into his face. He leaned down to kiss her and she put one hand around his neck to hold him there. It was a time for rejoicing; a time to put troubles to the side for a moment and simply enjoy being alive.
The cake – a demure thing, but still elegant – was cut; the bouquet was tossed (Jill may or may not have glanced around beforehand and deliberately thrown it in Claire's direction); all the timeless traditions were observed. Food and drink were spread out under the tent that served as a focal point for the cheerful crowd. The sun sank below the horizon as they celebrated, staining the sky a range of hues from gold in the west to indigo in the east. But the passing of time was a trivial thing to the merrymakers, who were having too good a time to worry much about the lateness of the hour.
Then, it came time for the newlyweds to flee the crowd – Jill was glad for the chance to escape. The festivities were enjoyable, certainly, but slightly tedious when what she really wanted was to get some time alone with her husband. He flashed a relieved look in her direction, bringing a smile to her lips. She knew he was more than ready to go; crowds wore on his nerves quite easily, especially considering his acute senses, which in large groups of people were bombarded with input. So it was gratefully that they got into the car and drove away, chased by the cheers of their loved ones.
Once they were around the corner, Albert chuckled and shook his head. "I don't know about you, but I'm glad to be away from that. Parties never were my cup of tea."
Jill leaned against his arm and smiled. "I was having fun, actually." Being so surrounded by people who were celebrating her wedding, hearing the laughter and the banter of friends who had not seen each other for years, was a restful break from the stress of real life. "But you're right; it is nice to get away from the chaos."
***
The honeymoon was in Stone Ville, a town close to where Raccoon had been and a place full of memories. They had both agreed on that place for the same reasons: remembrance. In the six years since the outbreak, never once had any of the ex-S.T.A.R.S. returned to the crater that had once been Raccoon City. However, Jill and Albert felt that it was high time that they did, as over the years, they hadn't often had the time to properly honor everything that had been lost the day Raccoon was destroyed.
They stayed in a hotel overlooking the river. Naturally, one of the things they did was to drive out toward the crater; it would have been nice to be able to be able to approach the site where their lives were changed forever, but they were stopped. Jill sighed to see a high barbed wire fence surrounding the entire area. Umbrella had built a base on the site once the fallout from the explosion had reached tolerable levels, which had been promptly taken over by the US government when the corporation fell – this the entire AUM had known, but that didn't change the fact that it was rather frustrating.
Since both she and Albert were members of the BSAA, they were allowed onto the premises. Albert showed no interest in the facility in the middle of the crater – after all, when you'd been in one or two Umbrella labs, you'd been in them all – though Jill studied it from afar. "I wonder why they built that here," she remarked.
"Probably so they could see if there was anything under the rubble worth salvaging," he said absently. "Umbrella was always a jealous institution."
Jill looked up at his face, which was pensive and flat. He was caught up in his own memories; she thought sadly that few of them had to be happy. "Do you think their excuse for restricting the area was true?"
"I doubt it. The bombs would have released enough heat to denature the proteins of viral capsids for some distance beyond the impact zone. Even if some made it past that and the effects of the fallout, as time went on the viruses would eventually degrade since they lacked living hosts. After at most a year, this place would have been completely sterile and pose no hazard." He shrugged. "They might have found a few traces of viable virus when they did the initial survey, but those wouldn't have lasted long."
For several more long moments, they stood in silence at the edge of the crater. Jill thought back on her experiences in the R.P.D. – a relatively short period in her life, but she held those memories close to her heart.
Albert lightly nudged her. "What are you thinking?" he asked softly, with a curious tilt to his head.
Jill took in a deep breath and released it in a gusty sigh. "It's strange. I feel like I'm essentially the same person as I was then, but at the same time, so much is different. I look back at the person I was six years ago and I feel like I'm looking through a stranger's eyes."
He nodded. "I know how you feel."
She studied her husband's face once more. "What about you?" It was a subject they didn't bring up much, but here, it was permissible to speak about the event that had completely turned their worlds upside down.
He turned his gaze back to scan the rocky pockmark. "Nothing in particular. There are too many memories." Jill wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her weight into him. She well understood what he meant. The tyrant leaned his head down to kiss her brow. "Ready to go?" She agreed, and they took their leave of the dusty crater.
I totally wrote most of that when I should've been writing an essay for humanities or the story for my lang 120 or studying for the bio practical or psych exam, but I had my Muse on hand and I wasn't about to let that slip away.
By the way, am I the only one who thinks Luis Sera was the most awesome character in RE4? 'Cause he is. I'm just sayin'.