I'm baaaaack. Took my time to decide what I wanted to do next in terms of SP--I have a bunch of ideas but I decided to go forth with a series idea I had for Stan/Wendy. I would love to input some Kyle/Heidi stories too following this! I also am planning to give them some spotlight in this story.
Thanks for coming back! If you're new, welcome to the chaos!
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Wendy had a lot of enemies. Generally, she didn't know most. It wasn't that simple. As the development of science takes off, so do sides of the war. So do the people arguing what to do with it. And Wendy was on a very clear, public side of its advancement.
She realized her role as cellular biologist came with its own unique dangers. Not just of being exposed to disease or any bio-hazard lab accidents. The war on medicine caused many branches of hate. Maybe she wasn't a quantum physics researcher like Kenny's renown fame, but her placement in the country's development for better health got her enough media attention. Especially as of late.
Her transfer from working at Harvard for years was not as simple a reason as missing her Colorado life. Now that she was a researcher at the CDC in Fort Collins, her life was ultimately different. Not just by moving back to South Park, not even just by being engaged to Stan. She'd spent years teaching and researching these types of inadequacies and competence of how medicine works at Harvard. The CDC knew what to expect from her.
She left an empty pen on her pad. A specific notepad she kept handy for any separate thoughts when away from the lab. Just for herself that her therapist advised when she was gaining so much media coverage. This health crisis of recently discovered diseases in development scared everyone, even the scientists. But she'd kicked ass before, she'd continue to. It made the world safer, the media fonder, and the enemies more heated.
People always asked why she chose biology out of all things the world offered her. After living through Covid as a child, it all came back to her to belief that science was the best threat against all individual and collective problems of the world.
Wendy looked down at the emptied pad, seeing the ink spill from ball pen she simply pressed against the waiting paper. Packing it up, she slipped it into her work bag as the Colorado sky greeted her a good morning through their living room window.
'Their living room' had a nice, abnormal ring to it. Now that she signed the lease, it was no longer just Stan's single-story house. Funny how only a few years ago this was the place she'd find herself crashing at when visiting home from Boston. It's not like the amount of times she and Stan kissed, had sex, or whispered sweet nothings to each other amounted to nothing. Their happily ever after was finally arriving, after years of two very different careers keeping them so far apart.
The man in mind with the five-o'clock shadow wearing the brown shirt with a red collar and sleeves exited from the kitchen with his coffee, wanting to see her off to her last day of work before the wedding. Two days to go and the reality had really sunk in. Which meant a lot of double-checking with the caterer and flowers, and a lot of flaming romance that kept them busy lately.
Wendy clipped her bag closed, looking at him through her reading glasses. "What?"
He loved how she looked in her work clothes and glasses. Put together and elegant since the first day he knew her. "Blow off a day early."
She got up, slipping the strap over her shoulder. "That won't make the wedding come sooner."
"But it'll make you stay here."
She resisted smirking. "I think you need to go back to work."
Stan was off deployment from the military currently, so his schedule was in his own hands. When he'd be deployed was already being put in motion, but he sure as hell would have this wedding before he even thought about it.
Wendy watched him lower the mug like a proposal was creeping up. Not like the one with the diamond on her ring finger. He approached as his eyes kept wandering the blue work jacket over her purple blouse and the matching skirt hugging her body. "That skirt looks good on you."
"Tsk-tsk, no saving it for the weekend?" She pretended to scold. She knew full well it was part of his little game. Foreplay was second nature for these two after years of an unlabelled long-distance relationship.
Her fiancé finally reached her, his close proximity almost pressed her to the door as butterflies settled in her core. "You can be a little late.."
Wendy threw her eyes to his sneakers in the corner. "Go for a run, you pest."
His fingers already tickled her leg as he looked at her with hungry, lidded eyes. She parted her lips just barely from the contact.
"Let me give you something to think about all day.."
Two days until they were married. Submitting to a life with one another. She wanted him. And he was here now. And it was hot. He reached up far enough under her skirt to curl a finger under the thigh-high tight.
"Cheeky.." Wendy poked.
"What're they gonna do? Fire you?" Stan tugged at the stocking provokingly. Wendy sighed at the feeling of it peeling down her skin. "They need you too much."
By the time he pulled the tight to her knee, still working his way up her skirt, his fiancée had already gave in. "I suppose not.."
The groom-to-be needed to build some stamina after such a vacation of a week. Just the weekend before there was back to back events involving a small but intimate rehearsal dinner with his and Wendy's friends, and a not so subtle bachelor party Kenny had planned. With all the spoiling, Stan figured he needed to get a bit of exercise in before the big day.
He inhaled sharply through his nose, evening a breathing pace as he jogged the last mile of his run. Sweat stained the grey academy shirt he wore with 'Cheyenne Mountain Space Force' across the pecks in green. The little quickie with Wendy this morning was still in the back of his mind to keep motivation. When you weren't on assignment for the military, it was all about the training.
He turned to his street corner, pacing himself as he could see his house in the distance. Triumphant in not breaking his streak once again as he began to walk and even his heart rate. He shook his sweater to free himself of hot air, ready to shower and take the dog out for a walk. Wendy's golden retriever Rory who they now shared as proud dog parents.
As he turned onto the walkway of their home and picked up the mail as he did, he couldn't help but pick up on a commotion inside. And not just of the dog. He rolled his eyes; Part of getting married was agreeing to the chaos that was gonna follow days before his wedding.
Stan entered through a door he'd locked on his way out for his run, left open by four scrambling women chattering amongst the living room. He threw the mail to a side table, looking at them on his furniture. "Hey..people who don't live here."
Bebe, Heidi, Nichole, and Red all responded with a chorus of hellos; Though quickly indulged again in last-minute prep for the wedding. Heidi and Bebe kept their binders of clip-ins and lists open as Red and Nichole proposed any add-ons.
Stan shook his head, petting the dog who laid by Heidi's feet in the loveseat. "Do you need me for wedding planning or just my house?"
"Oh relax," Bebe, the sharp-witted ringlet blonde berated from the lounge chair. Wearing a torso-hugging red blouse with puff mesh sleeves and tight leathered pants as opposed to her work clothes from Mary May. She sipped on a skinny glass of mimosa. "We're just making sure all transport is set for Saturday."
Stan eyed the glass in her hand. "And drinking my champagne."
"Wendy said we could," Nichole, the one with a black silk-press hairdo, lifted her own glass. Show wore her usual white dress pants and heels paired with her pink blouse and yellow cardigan, sitting next to Red who remained in her navy blue pantsuit set from work.
"Yeah, and you don't need Wendy here for any of this?" Stan bothered to ask. It was unlike his fiancée to leave others up to taking the reins for anything.
"Madame Bride," Heidi reminded, adorned in her usual garments of a green pear turtleneck and black jeans. With her red-fuschia accessories of flats and teardrop earrings disappearing into her ashy brown locks. "Does not need to be worried about this right now. We said we'd call every day this week to make sure the flower shop and caterers don't plan on messing up their routes to the venue."
Every day this week. Definitely Wendy's idea that she didn't have time for as Stan pulled off his sweaty hoodie. "Yeah, that adds up."
When the sweater was yanked off, all four women groaned from the pungent smell.
"God," Red, with the same coloured shag bob whined. "I don't think a shower is gonna do you justice by Saturday."
"You guys are free to do this somewhere else, y'know." Stan snapped. He sniffed the air at another warm smell over his body odor. "What is that?"
"The cookies, Kyle should be taking them out now." Heidi waved her pen over her shoulder to where her husband rustled in the kitchen.
"What?"
The man with the ginger beard entered just then, wearing his wife's creamy yellow apron and matching oven mitts over his work clothes recognized by his usual orange jacket. He held the tray of chocolate chip cookies. "Hey, dude."
Stan eyed him up and down. "Did you blow off work for this?"
"Anything for the cause."
The groom had just about enough. "'Kay, I'm gonna go shower. Unless the wedding planners have their say in that, too."
Bebe looked over at Stan, noting his greying sideburns and aging hairline. "Are you gonna wear your military cap the day of? Or a toupee at least?"
"Get out of my house."
The CDC lab Wendy was assigned to in Fort Collins had a current action of focus. For the past few years, their location worked primarily on the prevention of disease spread by vectors, ticks, and mosquitos; Basically, the central causes for diseases you'd find in a Western state like Colorado.
The spike in a new plague of Lymes disease across the West in the past few years was starting to get picked up by the media. The Brofvloski-Turners had a scare when it was caught early on in their son Adam after he came back from a class trip. Luckily curable and not late enough for the disease to truly affect him. But, any further could've meant dire circumstances. Wendy has seen these ticks for herself. She was spending day in, and day out in the lab. These ticks were unlike the ones her mother warned her about as a little girl on mountain hikes. She and Stan's neighbor passed away a few months ago from it. He was retired, but not even that old. There were recent Utah reports of the same variation killing people. Some in South Park were bit, but survived it. Not everyone though.
Dr. Testaburger's latest research before leaving Harvard regarded her admittance into the Bacterial Diseases Branch. These were not the usual blacklegged ticks she grew up with. As vectors and ticks began crossbreeding for the past few decades, the lifeforms under the microscopes became more foreign. Now, in her white hazard suit in a sealed part of the lab, she looked at the crossbred creature on the plate below her. It had the usual details of a blacklegged, including its red sack. But the red ulcers along its body were a new addition since the species started evolving. Some she gathered had two heads. Some had no legs at all but were still just as venomous.
She slid the glass palette of the dead sample out of the scope, locking it in its dish and carrying it to a bio-freezer for storage. 'Lymes Plague' was what the government approved to call this new variation while it was still being studied. Catching it early on in a patient may have been fine, but these people who were found with it too late had no hope but the people in this lab. Wendy would see this through until she found a vaccine.
Dr. Testaburger cleaned the rest of her equipment, rounding up her day as she left for the lab's exit through the air shower. She closed the sealed door behind her, stepping into the cleaning range zone and t-posing.
"Moderate level," Wendy requested as the voice command picked up on her.
"Moderate level, activated."
The air jets blasted, whisking Wendy with HEPA-filtered air to decontaminate her. After a few moments, it powered down and Wendy left through the other end and out of the lab. Coming to meet another doctor who helped her unzip her hazard suit.
"Fun playdate with the bugs?"
Wendy chuckled, freeing herself from the suit as she pushed it down her legs and stepped out. Still in her purple blouse and blue work-skirt. She took the disposable shoe covers covering her black flats off her feet, as well as the gloves. "Wish we could call it something better than Lymes Plague."
Her colleague handed her back the hazard suit, and Wendy hung it up in the assorted locker. Taking her blazer and slipping it over her blouse as she stared at the fellow doctor who held Wendy's bag. "What?"
"We've got other concerns. Rather than Lymes, I mean."
Wendy pushed her reading glasses up her nose, pulling her hair out of her coat from getting caught. "I would guess so."
"Anti-vaxers are pissed, maybe they'll riot."
She scoffed. Aside from diseases itself, anti-vaxer movements and causes have been at an all-time high in recent years. For different reasons depending on each group, but an offense to Wendy's work nonetheless. "Let them. We'll see who the media believes."
"Speaking off.."
"Hm?"
Her colleague tried not to smile, not sure if Dr. Testaburger was one for the limelight or not. "The Denver Post and some other media outlets are outside. They wanna hear from you."
"Me?" Wendy asked. Her scientific career hadn't exactly been as well-known as Kenny McCormick's. But, her recent work for the CDC and her famous discovery of a man-made Covid variant when she was still at Harvard left her in some recent headlines.
"It's gonna be a blur of questions. Feel free to answer only what you choose." He handed her her bag.
"Thank you, doctor."
They left the lab quarters, heading to the nearest entrance close to staff parking as Wendy noticed the commotion outside. Some fellow CDC workers in labcoats tried answering the reporters to the best of their ability. But, their interest was only towards the raven-haired woman who came down the front steps.
"Dr. Testaburger! Dr. Testaburger!" The torpedoes of media swarmed as Wendy's male colleague tried to clear a path for her. Cameras and mics poked through to capture any comment or reaction from her.
"Dr. Testaburger! Any feedback to those disbelieving this Lymes' variant?" One shouted as they followed her to her car.
"We can't force people to protect their families, but we can provoke it as much as we can. This is best for all of us." Wendy commented.
"Dr. Testaburger, do you worry about opposing opinions becoming a threat in the war on medicine?"
"Please," Wendy laughed haughtily as cameras clicked. "It's been a threat for a long time. Immunization only works if everyone participates. But, that hasn't stopped us."
"Do you worry it's a threat on your career? Those who actively pursue against it?"
"I don't plan on going anywhere."
Her colleague got the driver's door for her as Wendy unlocked it. He looked to the reporters over Wendy's shoulder. "Any other comments from Dr. Testaburger can wait to answer after her break."
"When will clinical trials for a vaccine begin?"
"When there is a vaccine to speak of." Wendy responded, her colleague dispersed the crowd as she looked over her car and made one final comment. "But I'll think about that after my honeymoon, thank you."
"Well, look at you." Stan gave a lofty laugh, grabbing the other bottle of champagne Bebe managed to not drain. "Surfing the crowd of paparazzi."
Wendy sat on the end of her and Stan's shared bed. Warm, classy music played gently from the speaker on her dresser with surrounding scented candles filling the room's air. She cheered the two empty glasses she had in waiting. "I'm starting to feel so distinguished ever since Harvard."
Stan unwrapped the foil covering the bottle's cork, before popping it off as Wendy squeaked from the noise. "You're gonna give Kenny a run for his money."
"Not Kenny," she winked, holding out the glasses as Stan filled them up with bubbly delight. "Those sorry suckers who still think we're trynna poison them."
Stan took the glass she offered, putting the bottle aside for now and sitting next to her on the edge. "Yeah, I wouldn't use those words for people who are still afraid of medicine."
"It's not them," Wendy sighed. "It's these people who've been running these hate campaigns to scare them. It's driving me crazy."
Her fiancé nodded. Recent hate campaigns didn't spare calling out certain scientists they considered a threat to American life. Kenny and Wendy have been mentioned a handful of times. Even with the support, the hate came viciously. It didn't hurt Wendy personally, she was stronger than that, but it could very well hurt someone with Lymes Plague she was trying to save right now.
"These poor people," she thought of those affected. "We can't go on for much longer without a result."
Stan combed his fingers through the back of her head. "You've been busting your tail. It's time for a break."
Wendy smiled, sighing softly as he raked his hand out of her hair. "I can't believe you're mine in two days.."
"I've always been yours."
The soon-to-be weds clinked glasses, cheering their engagement that was about to come to an end. It had been an amazing year. As Wendy swallowed the rest of the champagne, she met eyes with Stan's lustful ones. Smirking at his little hint, and she couldn't help but giggle.
Stan took another sip before taking both glasses away and setting them aside without taking his eyes off her. And Wendy laughed crazily by the time he threw her against the mattress.
To be continued...