A/N: Chapter 15. L4D belong to Valve, who probably secretly control the government.

The next few days were filled with boredom, tedium, dizziness, and doctors.

They were always there, hovering over me, like they were observing some rare, vicious animal at a zoo. They asked the same damn questions about a million times each ("Are you dizzy? Experiencing lightheadedness? Is the room spinning? Can we get another pint from her?") or tried to make me eat excessive amounts of nutrient-rich crap. Basically, I was being treated like a very ill person, for the exact opposite reason.

Gatling, I didn't see much of. He was there, occasionally, on the edge of whatever horde of doctors were assaulting me that day, but he'd usually leave before I could throw any questions his way, so I was mostly kept in the dark on what the hell was happening to Den. This left me plenty of time for speculation during the quiet moments of the day, when I stared at the ceiling and tried not to resent the fact I was strapped to a hospital bed in Canada.

Chances were he was still in coma, but I still wondered how he was doing. All the while I asked myself the same questions: What would he be like when he woke up? Would it even work? Would he forget, all over again? Would he even wake up?

It was like worrying about the bear again, but worse. At least I had Denver to talk to, then, and at least I still had a gun.

Sometimes I'd go back to that moment, on that last night. When it was just the two of us, against the Hideous Floral Couch, his breathing even against mine, his too-warm body close as I drifted off to sleep…

Then it'd hurt too much to remember, and I would go back to worrying.

It was by the third night that I heard something.

I wasn't sure what time it was (There weren't any windows in the ward, which drove me nuts) but I knew it was fairly late at night, since the lights were out. I was trying to get some sleep, (Which was proving to be impossible) when I heard a couple of orderlies jabbering down the hall, stopped by the door.

"—Fever is still the same, but he seems to be stabilizing…"

I snapped out of a state of half-consciousness.

"—convulsing, like he's fighting it, though Director Gatling says to continue—"

The orderly's voice lowered, and I couldn't hear her. It was all I could do not to jump out of the bed and sneak up for a closer listen. Then, her voice rose again. "—Dr. Jenner reported possible shock, though the blood type is universal."

"Did he say whether it's working?" Asked what I assumed to be the other orderly.

"We don't know, Now, Eric in Ward 8—"

Her voice faded away as they continued down the corridor.

I wasn't sure what to think of this. All it did for me was fill my head with more thoughts, and my stomach with more worry.

On Day 6 or so, when I was seriously beginning to contemplate making like that group of carriers and breaking out of the place, Gatling decided to show his face.

"Good news." He said, actually sounding cheerful, despite the dark circles under his eyes. Looks like someone's been going without sleep for awhile.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to hide my anticipation. "Does my snot cure cancer?"

"Sadly, no, though I think we can count our blessings at this point."

"Spit it out, then."

"The vaccine we developed works, Miss Walker. The antibodies in your blood are enough to block the virus, and eradicate it. Distribution starts as soon as it would be viable."

"Which is…?"

"One week for the closer areas. Up to a month on large-scale."

"That's quick, for a vaccine."
"It is a time of national emergency, Miss Walker. Time is of the essence."

"Still, it seems awfully streamlined." I said, dubiously. "Do you have a means of mass-production? Besides me, I mean." (Hey, the world might be at an end, but I would personally rather not stay in a CEDA ward forever)

"In fact, Miss Walker, we do." He said, giving me a knowing, smug smile that made me madder than a badger in an outhouse. (Trust me. I'd know.)

Gatling continued. "While it hasn't been perfected yet, we have a means of cloning your white blood cells to produce enough antibodies for the vaccine. At least, until a synthetic one can be produced."

I decided not to breach the topic of how exactly they tested this; all I'll leave it to is that I suspect the CEDA is far less ethical in their methods than they wish to divulge. Instead, I asked Gatling another question.

"So, does this mean I can leave? You don't need me anymore, do you?"

There was a little flash across Gatling's face, like he didn't like the question, but it soon disappeared, and was replaced by his usual stoicism.

"Not exactly, Miss Walker." He said, his tone neutral.

Thought so. I knew I should've broken out of here when I had the chance.

"The reason being?" I asked, keeping my tone guarded.

Gatling sighed, like he knew I wouldn't like what he was about to say. "It's too much of a risk."

"Risk? You have the samples you need. You just said you cloned them." I said, trying not to let my rising anger show.

"Until we can discover a synthetic vaccine, Miss Walker," Said Gatling, icily, "Your immune blood is the only hope for combatting the disease. The virus has an infection rate of 98.5%-and the remaining 1.5% are carriers, as far as we know, who can still carry and spread the disease. Approximately 38% of the population is dead, or infected, and that toll rises every day. The entire country is in quarantine—not even imports are being made, which is devastating to the economy in itself. Martial law has been established in all major cities that remain, and rationing is occurring as we speak. Though we do have the samples we need, Miss Walker, if we lose them, then the Green Flu will ravage the country. We have to keep your nearby, at least, until we can find an alternative."

I stayed silent. Hell, maybe I would be strapped to a hospital bed forever. That, and the rest of the country's gone to shit.

Gatling interrupted my thoughts. "Besides, Miss Walker; I believe you have another reason to stay here."

I filled in the blanks.

"How is he?" I asked, quietly

Damn you, Gatling, I know you're stalling, so I don't actively try and kill you over this, but I'm not going to let this pass. I thought, hotly. And I'm going to play along, because I'm worried. But I'm not going to forget this.

"Doing well, according to the Quarantine Ward." Gatling replied.

"Define, 'well.' Not dead, you mean?"

"Just the opposite. All traces of the virus seem to have been cleared from his system."

I stopped breathing.

He's completely cured.

Oh. My. God.

"Miss Walker?"

I shook myself out of my mental exultation. "I'm fine." I said, off-handedly, trying to hide my joy. "Is he awake yet?"
"No, he's in a state of unconsciousness. Scans show brain activity, though they're fairly inconclusive."

"So you don't know what it'll be when he wakes up."

"No, we don't. All we know is that, even if he does recover, the virus will have permanently… altered him."

"Altered?"

The virus causes excessive brain damage to its victims, killing cells off, and then repairing them in cycles."

"Repairing? Last time I checked, Gatling, brain cells don't grow back."

"Let's say that the virus has some…unusual conventions. Advanced regeneration is just the tip of the metaphorical iceberg. In any case, it permanent damage seems to be more extensive on non-mutated individuals, typically called 'Common' Infected; the brain damage is typically so extreme, it's unfixable, cure or no. For mutated infected, we wouldn't know."

"So you don't know if he'll try to kill us or, or end up a vegetable."

"No, Miss Walker. We don't."

A/N: Another cliffhanger for you! Oh, I'm so mean, I can't stand it.

I might take a brief hiatus over the weekend; keep checking, I'll try and post Chapter 16 if I can. In the meantime, if you liked this chapter, leave a review, if you hated it, leave a review, and if you like the story, recommend it to your friends, or on the TV Tropes Fanfic Recommend page. If you hated it, send it to the Protectors of the Plot Continuum so they can spork it.

Thanks! Until next chapter,

-Author

P.S. I took a great amount of Artistic License with this. In reality, vaccines take months, if not years, to produce, and typically not through immune blood. Then again, if you're getting your science info from a fanfiction, then you have bigger things to worry about than accuracy. Cheers!