Work Text:
During the epidemic that ravaged Raccoon City, something peculiar had caught Cindy Lennox's attention. She, along with the respected Dr. George Hamilton and a group of survivors, had arrived at the prestigious university.
Death also accompanied them, even in a place of worship and knowledge, embodied in the bodies of professors and students who wandered aimlessly through the halls where dreams had once been born.
Sad and desolate halls, destined to be destroyed, and with them, the memories of the hundreds of footsteps that had once trod their carpets.
Everything was unusually quiet. The atmosphere was cold; it could even be seen on the windowpanes of the room designated as the art gallery, and, unnoticed by anyone because it was so obvious, there was a bluish tint permeating the air.
It was early morning, and the first rays of sunlight threatened a new dawn.
The waitress and the doctor stared with intrigue the various musical instruments that now stood silent, and the works of art that hung on the walls, which would never be seen again.
And their value...
Reduced to zero.
"What are you staring at, Cindy?"
George Hamilton cautiously approached Lennox. He, out of respect, kept a discreet distance so as not to make her uncomfortable.
"I was thinking. What else is there to do but think? Ah... soon it will all be over."
The young woman didn't want to see it anymore.
"I don't know, we don't know if the whole world has fallen victim to this, or if there's something waiting for us on the other side... and I'm not referring to the metaphysical matters of death."
Hamilton laughed.
"No matter what happens, my duty as a doctor is to protect you and those with us. I would give my life if it guarantees the survival of all of you."
"What are you saying?"
Cindy seemed genuinely upset by the comment, given how much they had already been through.
"We've been fighting for days... only to end up like this. I refuse to leave you behind, or to die here. Destiny brought us here for a reason."
"Well, I don't believe that. I don't believe in destiny, and I'm a bit skeptical about other things... although I can guess what you mean."
The surgeon decided to sit down in an armchair and organized his medical bag.
"We had so many reasons not to go to the bar, so many opportunities to die... but here we are, alive."
Cindy was somewhat relieved by the comment, because he understood what she meant.
The blonde hadn't noticed the piano standing there, so out of curiosity, she approached, sat down, and placed her hands on the keys.
As she pressed her index finger on a key and confirmed that it worked...
"You know a thing or two about this thing? Interesting. I used to have one... but I never used it. May I?"
George asked permission to sit beside her.
"Of course. Yes, that's right, I used to play in the church choir every Sunday."
"I've never been to church... well, yes, but only once... when I married my wife... ex-wife. That wretch..."
"Oh really? And what was she like?"
And then, Cindy began to play Moonlight Sonata with complete ease.
"She didn't understand that as a doctor I have priorities, and among them is my work. I don't blame her for feeling lonely, although she certainly had no reason to bring him into our house and do all sorts of God-forbidden things between the sheets. And what did she do? She told me I was already married... to my work, and then she stormed out, slamming the door behind her."
"I'm sorry for being nosy. I shouldn't have asked."
Cindy was embarrassed.
"Bah, it was about time someone knew." George just smiled at her misfortune. "And putting that damned harpy aside... what was it like playing for the church?"
Cindy's face lit up.
"It was beautiful," she said with a smile. "The children would stand in a line and the choir would begin... their voices and my piano would work together to start a melody. My greatest achievement was playing in the theater."
"The theater? You mean THE theater?"
"The very theather. I was supposed to be in the play Biohazard 4, but well, with the epidemic, I've forgotten about that dream..."
"Well, when we get out of here, and if they contact you again... I promise to come see you."
"Really? You don't have to, George."
"And in the front row."
"What are you saying! I'll be so nervous. But I'll gladly play for you."
And so, George gazed at Cindy, seeing her in a different light, for he hadn't noticed her singular charm before.
What a beautiful woman.
But then, she wept. First, a sob, then a whimper, and finally... tears.
"My family died, George... my friends, Will..." Cindy smiled again at the approach of the crisis. "People from my congregation... I killed them. I sinned."
"Cindy..."
"And I'm going to hell."
And then George was there, covering her in an embrace, inhaling the scent of her soft perfume and gently stroking her back.
Like a father who can only listen.
"I'm scared, George... I'm so scared. I want this to end, I want it all to be over and... just rest."
"It will be over soon, Cindy. Very soon. I'm going to protect you and return the kind and gentle treatment you've given me since the very beginning."
His gesture was interrupted when, behind them, a statue moved and its arm descended, revealing a precious gem on the figure's palm, ready to be taken.
"Well, I don't know about you... but this seems important. I'll keep it, just in case."
Cindy gave a tired smile and nodded.
"You'd better."
"Ready to get out of here? With me."
"With you, together. Just like from the beginning."
And, in the beginning, all was darkness.
Voices and murmurs.
And a light appeared from above, illuminating the stage. A woman in a beautiful formal white dress sat before a piano, behind her a large orchestra.
He was in the audience, dressed in a black suit, with a smile that exuded confidence.
Their eyes met.