-1The blonde scientist sinks down into the frail wooden chair, a sigh escaping his parched lips. On the table in front of him is a glass of cool iced water, condensation running down the sides and into the wooden table, a close file with a cup rim stain on one corner, and a packet of painkillers. In the centre of the table is a rare sight, a plate of fresh cookies. Cameron must have made them. What's she done now?
Hesitantly, he reaches out and takes one, giving the confectionary a cursory look over. The sugar-filled treat is a rich brown colour, with chocolate chunks breaking through the surface and sides. It's about as big as his fist. It looks like pure heaven, and he can already feel his mouth watering.
As his teeth sink into the brown biscuit, the door opens and in walks the buzzing beast herself. He swallows his mouthful.
"Good afternoon, maggot bait." Her voice irritates him, a sheer copy of the old Red Queen voice from Arklay. It's exactly the reason she chose that. He would have preferred any other, hell, even Wesker's, or Sergei's.
Something else he hates about her. Whenever she's around…there's always this…buzzing sound. It's his own fault, and he damn well knows it, and short of gassing her there's not much he can do about it.
Doesn't mean he can't hate it, however.
"Good day, Cameron." he inclines his head towards the plate of snacks. "Did you make these?"
"I did. With all me."
She laughs, a curious sound, as he drops the snack, a horrified look on his face. The food sticks in his throat, and he can feel bile rising up to meet it, wanting nothing more than to spit it out, manners be damned.
"Oh, I do apologise Maggot. I was only having a joke." She says as her suited hand slams into his back, dislodging the chunk of food. He spits it out into the palm of his hand, his blue and purple speckled eyes glaring up at her.
"Some joke." he growls. "Your research is what I'd call a joke, Cameron, a bad joke. Shouldn't you be working on it? I assume you want some laughs."
"My research is not a joke. Wasting time on some brain-dead mutant, acting as if she is the key to existence, that is a joke Maggot."
His fist slams down on the table, the plate rattling, file bouncing slightly. "Enough." The single word is quiet, heavy with threat. "This research helped you out of a certain predicament, if you remember correctly. If I were you, I'd stay very, very quiet on this matter. Are we clear?"
The suited doctor nods silently. She wants to say something, make up for her mistake, apologise, but her pride refuses to let her utter a word to the scientist as he gets to his feet, the chair scraping against the floor. He brushes past her and she notices the shudder that runs through him as he does.
Does she really disgust him that much?
She questions this as he leaves, the white lab coat the last things she sees of him.
---
He stands looking down at the young woman lying on the slab in front of him. Everyday is the same. He always visits, talks to her still form, brushing the tangles from her hair as he tells her about his research. About how she's helped him so much, how he owes her his life…how sorry he is about everything they did to her before.
She never responds.
Her eyes stay firmly shut, hiding the grey eyes from the room's merry lighting, which shines daintily in her golden tresses.
"Your so much like Sherry." he murmurs to her often, longing to have his daughter back, longing to take back the past, warp it and twist it, to have made them all a real family…instead of the shambles it had been.
Sherry…god, I'm sorry I couldn't stop myself…and now he has you, locked away…what is he doing to you?
"Oh my dear…if only you could meet her. You would get along for sure…I just know you would….One day, when I get her back, I'll introduce her to you. Maybe you could wake up for her. Do you think you could do that?"
Only her deep breaths answer him.
"One day, perhaps…" One day perhaps her mind will heal itself from the years of torture and solitude, of experimentation and horrors…Until then, he will continue to craft his salvation from her remarkable body, the elixir that would put a stop to it all.
"You'll help me save her, won't you Lisa?"
---
She watches him from behind the glass panel, hearing his soft murmured words as he speaks to the comatose woman lying still, mind shattered and ruined, her regenerated body only good for taking samples.
Why wouldn't he give up on her? It's obvious to her that Sleeping Beauty won't wake up, not without a goddamn brain transplant.
Placing a suited hand against the one way glass, she watches his movements carefully, wondering…
Did he pay me so much attention? Was he this fixated with me before I awoke? Was he as ceaseless in helping to cure me of my…affliction?
She finds herself wishing he would pay her the same amount of attention nowadays…rather than the disgust he always displays.
She watches him leave the room, turning off the lights, watches as he flicks on a small nightlight by the door and murmur his goodbyes. He cares so much for this wretch…He sees his daughter in her, is that it? He sees what Umbrella could have done to Sherry…What Wesker could do.
Her hand falls to her side. "Come my pets, feeding time." she murmurs to herself, exiting the small surveillance room.
---
He stands bent over vials of viruses, back aching from endless hours of being in the same position writing, muttering, thinking, all of it leading in loops and twists. It's almost impossible to concentrate today; his mind is trailing to and fro.
Sherry…
Wesker…
He needs to forget them, but he can't, she's always at the forefront of his mind, every word he said to her that day, every time he ignored her, refused to be the father he was supposed to, how he let the G-virus take over his life.
He hates it, now more than ever; especially what it did in the process of saving his life, infecting his own flesh and blood.
His fist tightens around the empty vial in his hand and it smashes, the fragments embedding themselves into his flesh. He barely feels it, the pain dimly registering alongside the emotional pain of what he has done.
The hand opens slowly, and he manages to focus on the blood dripping down it, onto the counter. Before he cleans himself up, he grabs a slide and catches a drop of his blood on it, replacing it onto the counter. He stands upright, wincing as his back creaks and wanders off to find a bandage for his hand.
One good thing about pain…it lets me know I'm alive.
---
Dr Cameron is tapping away at her computer, concentrating on the any millions of signals she's sending to ensure she hits each key. It's funny, living like this has become second nature to her now, but she'd still give anything for her old body. Even as she types up failed research notes, she dreams about what she could do without this accursed suit confining her.
Perhaps…there will be no more disgust…in those eyes…
If she could smile, she would be just then, and there would be a dreamy look on her face at the same time.
A sudden noise from her phone makes her snap out of it.
"Excuse me Dr Cameron. You have an incoming video conference request. Shall I patch you through?"
"Yes, thank you Dixie."
A screen lowers behind her and she spins in the seat, and crosses her legs automatically, smoothing out an imaginary skirt.
The face she sees on the screen is one she's not meant to see.
He should not know she lives.
"How did you…?" there's surprise and horror in her voice.
"Oh, Doctor Cameron…Ada's such an…informative little woman, isn't she?" a smirk appears on his face, and he holds up something small in a gloved hand.
It's a clear container, inside are several small black beings. A sharp flick of his wrist and the things are battered from one side to the other.
Cameron shrieks and grabs her head, legs becoming planted to the floor. "Stop it! Please!"
"Not until I have what I want…"