Chapter Text
It has not even been a full 24 hours when Grace received the news about Emily's whereabouts, and yet it had felt like so much longer. Ongoing hours where she had to worry and fear for the state of the little girl that had grown so close to her heart in the span of what could only have been a few hours. Hell, Grace had to wait longer to see her again than she actually knew her in the first place.
But that didn't change the fact she felt immediately protective over the little girl. All alone in that cold and almost sterile cell in comparison to the rest of the house –no, mansion was the better word. If Victor Gideon was anything it was being extra, that's for sure.
Having been rushed from one BSAA Station to the next after being rescued by the organization, there was no time to even ask for Emily. Leon might have said there was a chance she'd survive, but that didn't help with Grace's overthinking and worrying for her; expecting the worst once more after having been given hope for her wellbeing. She didn't think she could handle it, losing someone else again.
The pain of losing her mother, her best friend, her only friend, all those years ago still sat painfully and deeply etched in her bones, and it wouldn't leave her, ever. She was well aware of that. Was reminded of the lingering pain by repeating nightmares of that night. She would wake up screaming and crying into her pillow and into the darkness. Sobbing for the calming touch of her mother and her gentle words which would tell her it was all just a bad dream. But it would never come. Only the quiet night and lingering shadows remained by her side, drowning her in her sorrows and guilt.
So Grace learned –or more like forced herself to– reduce any unnecessary time of secluded dreaming. Working from morning till late in the evening, and not scarcely after midnight too. She had hoped that by exhausting herself completely everyday she would be able to escape the nightmares. And for the most part it worked. But as any good technical analyst was aware, she too knew that nothing had a 100% success rate and from time to time the nightmares would still haunt her and she would once again wake up crying and alone.
Being alone. That was probably a big part why she took to Emily so quickly. Not only did she feel like she had to protect this little girl, but Grace also saw herself in her. And not just figuratively. No, she literally saw her younger self when she looked at the blind girl. Even though Grace knew by now she wasn't a clone, or rather all those girls weren't clones of her, it was still eerie how similar they looked to each other. And come to think of it, the fact she looked similar enough to her mother too? She never even questioned whether she might be adopted. And why should she? Alyssa had the same easy smile, soft eyes, bright hair. And most importantly she was the best mother Grace could have ever asked for.
It made her memories of their last moments together so much more painful. Alyssa wanted to bring them to safety, but Grace was being a difficult teenager. It hurt. It hurt so much to think that maybe she could have prevented her mother’s demise somehow. Went back to those moments in her head especially shortly after her mother's death to go through every scenario again and again. Every option, every path, every decision, anything that could have produced a different outcome. It broke her all the same; the could and the would.
But those things she couldn't change. So when Emily transformed into the towering creature, Grace had maybe naively hoped this time she could make a difference. She feared by losing Emily it would rip open old wounds and make her lose herself completely this time. It had felt like it after Leon shot the transformed girl and her body fell heavily to the crated floor, unmoving and still. She couldn't handle losing someone else, no matter how little time they had actively spent together; she felt responsible for the girl's safety. And in that moment she had failed.
It was like losing Alyssa all over again. Her motionless body on the floor as her breathing subsided to a for her imperceptible intake of air. She felt like the helpless 17 year old again, who had just lost the only important person in her life. How could she move on like that? She couldn't, not again. She didn't think she could survive her mother’s death 8 years ago. She surely wouldn't survive another loss like this. Not when it was all her fault again.
When Victor and Zeno offered her their arms afterwards, stumbling through the dark, she had no will left to fight. What for even? She was exhausted. Living all alone all those years, in fear and trauma. And after this night of even more dread and pain, she felt like she would be done. With everything and for good–
Grace suddenly stops as the person leading her through the healing facility's corridors turns towards her, pulling her from her thoughts.
The woman fetches a pocket watch from inside her white coat, letting a few seconds pass by as she watches the hands tick once, twice. “Please wait here a moment, Miss Ashcroft.” She turns and leaves Grace behind as she vanishes through a door labeled ‘staff’.
Grace shifts from one foot to the other, pulling nervously on one strap of her backpack. She wanted to say something, how she couldn't possibly wait any longer to be reunited with Emily and make sure for herself the little girl was up and well. But she also knew making a scene wouldn't get her anywhere. Especially not when BSAA personnel were still around, taking notice of any unusual development in the survivors of Victor Gideon's little power play, ready to intervene at the smallest sign of aggression or recession in healing.
Not that Grace had had any trace of an infection inside her; somewhat miraculously even though she remembers clearly having been bitten by the police officer before getting kidnapped. Maybe his disease hadn't traveled far enough within his body yet? …Or just maybe Grace wasn't as ordinary as Spencer mentioned in that one secret tape from her mother.
Regardless, she was lucky to be allowed to walk around so freely. She may not have been able to return to her own apartment just yet, but it wouldn't have done her any good anyways. Walking restlessly up and down the empty rooms to try –and fail– at a distraction. She was somewhat glad the hustle and bustle gave her an excuse not to be alone with her thoughts for too long. At least at first. After her own set of thorough tests she was quickly allowed to stay in a temporary accommodation, close to the treating facility the BSAA suddenly occupied. A whole building, just like that.
Grace didn't have the energy to question how far their influence went. But she made a mental note to ask Leon about it at a later point.
And now that she is standing in one of the corridors, her eyes following doctors to who knows where, she is alone again for the first time in what feels like forever. Alone with her own set of worries as her gaze nervously travels about the place. From the shiny floors to the flickering lights, it felt like one big déjà-vu. The difference was however, that where Gideon’s facility was mostly deserted of vitality, this place was filled with humans at every corner. After the release of Elpis, the highest priority was getting the antiviral to as many infected as possible, as quickly as possible. And these ex-infected were now being treated here in said facility. It may have looked similar, but it felt completely different. Lighter, more hopeful and most importantly, filled with life.
Instead of wallowing in her own anxieties Grace began to walk along the corridor, past BSAA soldiers doing their rounds, taking peeks into the rooms that allowed it, some doors open for easy entry of the staff, some because their occupants felt too claustrophobic in locked rooms. A feeling Grace greatly shared after that eventful day.
Doctors and nurses were all over the place examining different patients in every room. Some were happily chatting with each other, some were anxious to finally leave this place, and some were simply bored out of their minds. One of those patients made Grace halt as she hears the soft hum of a melody she doesn't recognise. A young woman with long pale hair, sitting on the bed, one nurse shining a light into her eyes, the other taking notes. When the flashlight was mercifully shut off, the woman sighed in relief and leaned back on her hands. Relief was short lived however, as she instantly grimaced in annoyance as one of the nurses picked up a needle for further tests.
Dramatically exaggerated she exhaled into a new bout of melodic sounds and tried to find anything more interesting than the daily probing and poking. When her gaze finally fell towards Grace just beyond the door frame, the notes died in her throat. For just a moment their eyes met and the room seemed to shift to a halt as a spark of recognition flew through the air. However before the woman on the bed could really think about it, she was reminded to pay attention and then ordered to follow the tip of a pen with her eyes as it moved about. Once she was allowed to look back, Grace was already gone.
Grace remembers her. The zombie singer she found wandering the bar and halls around Gideon's facility.
Even with a severe lack of blood smeared around her mouth and sickly skin it was undoubtedly her. The same intense eyes, although more focused now, the same long white hair, the same melodic voice.
A voice that, even though catchy, still rang loud and piercing through her head whenever the zombie caught a glimpse of her. Screaming in a frequency that had Grace clutch her head and ears in pain. More than once did she have to flee to get control over the ringing in her head. Certain, even now she still has a minor tinnitus because of the singer.
Now was not the time to reflect on that however, as the doctor from before reappeared and waved her over to continue their tour. Finally she could see Emily again.
But with every step and every shrinking meter, the nerves came back more and more. Nervously she fiddles with the strap of her backpack again. “S-so, how i-is she?”
“Up and well, considering the circumstances of course.”
Grace nods along. “A-a-and she knows I am coming?”
“She had been informed of a visitor, yes.” They come to a halt by another simple door. The woman nods at Grace and then turns back on her heels to be off somewhere else. No doubt another patient. Grace couldn't even imagine the amount of work the staff had to put in to care for all the rescued ex-infected.
But she would have appreciated a little more information about the girl. A thousand thoughts race through her mind as she now stares at the closed door. What if for some reason Emily didn't remember her? Or worse, what if she did but didn't want anything to do with Grace now that they were both in safety? She clenches her fists in an attempt to ground herself, each nail creating little crescent moons in her palm. It stings.
She takes a deep and settling breath, letting it linger inside her lungs. Only one way to find out.
With newfound vigor she pushes open the door, stepping inside and immediately finding the little girl sitting on the –what felt like– too big bed. She has a bandage wrapped around her eyes, wearing another white hospital gown and reading in a book; her fingers slowly moving from one side of the page to the other. She doesn't react at first, probably expecting another doctor or nurse to check up on her.
For a moment Grace pauses and just watches her, letting her backpack drop to the floor by the door. Relief floods her veins as she can finally take in for herself that Emily is alive and well right before her. And she did look well. Not one scratch on the surface of her skin was visible from where Grace was standing. She is fine, alive. Grace didn't fail her.
A sudden lump threatens to form in her throat, but she quickly pushes it down. Now was not the time to start crying in front of Emily and worry and confuse her. Grace took another deep breath. “H-hey, Em–” Her voice breaks off a little bit at the end and she has to clear her throat to try again.
With her first words, Emily's head snapped towards the voice, waiting apprehensive, having recognised the matter of speech from not long ago. Her whole body turns with her head and her mouth opens in patient awe.
Grace can’t help the easy smile overtaking her as she steps closer. “Hey, Emily.”
“Grace?” Her voice feels so tiny and cautious, not sure if she could dare to hope Grace would really return for her. But despite the careful reluctance, one of her hands began to reach out for the approaching woman.
And Grace crosses the last meters quicker than anyone could stop her, to take the tiny hand in her own, sitting down on the corner of the bed and coming face to face with the girl. “Y-yes, it's me. H-hi.”
Without another word Emily reaches out with her other hand for Grace’s shoulder only to collapse against her in a hug. Her tiny hands balling into fists in the shirt beneath her fingers. Her shoulders began to shake the slightest bit, and when she spoke her voice was quiet and had the faintest air of tension. “You came back.”
When Emily hugged her this time, Grace reacted faster than the first time. One arm wrapping protectively around her smaller frame. The other hand, finding its home at the back of her head, running soothing lines through the white strands there. Her own head falls to lean on top of Emily’s to hide her own teary eyes. “I did. Of course I did.”
Finally Grace could allow herself to really let this reality sink in. Emily was fine and very happy to see her –or more like feel her– as the bandages around her head prevented any sight from being taken in.
Grace wasn't sure to really trust in Emily’s complete healing, if her eyesight took so much longer to return than the initial retransformation. But even if Elpis somehow maybe didn't allow for the return of her sight, Grace would make sure she would have the most fulfilled life she could offer her. If Emily still wanted that.
The girl shifts in her arms, directing her gaze to where she knew she would find Grace’s head staring back at her. “Can we go now?”
With a soft chuckle at the immediate answer to her inner question, Grace’s own hands fall to cup the girl's face, thumbs running over her cheeks in an attempt to wipe away streaks of tears. But where she expects wetness she finds none. Even though Emily was clearly upset, she hadn't cried. That's more than Grace could say about herself as she dries her blurry vision on her shoulder. This girl was really something.
One of Emily’s hands fell to Grace’s arm, holding on to it like a lifeline. Like she worried the woman might vanish if she didn't hold on to her long enough.
Grace’s own hands drop back down, catching Emily’s hands instead. “Not just yet. I-i am sorry. The doctors want to monitor you for a few more days. It's a safety precaution.”
Emily nods along with every big word, not unfamiliar to them after having grown up around medical and science staff all her life.
“But I will be here with you anytime I can.” Motioning with one thumb behind her to the backpack holding her laptop and other files. Not because she was forced to go back to work so soon, but because she knew she couldn't just sit by idle. She would rather use free moments to be productive, like before she was allowed to see Emily, waiting in the BSAA camp. Thankfully they could retrieve her backpack from the Wrenwood hotel without problems and with everything in working order. She had yet to return to her apartment for everything else, but that was a problem for later.
For now she was itching to find out if Emily was truly well, in and out. “How a-are you? How do you feel?”
“Fine, I guess.” Emily slightly cocked her head to the side in curiosity.
Somewhat relieved Grace wondered how far she could push the questioning. “Good. T-that's good. …how…how much do you remember?” She had to ask, too scared that being shot at was well embedded in her memories. That couldn't be a good thing for a developing brain any more than already having been a scientific specimen since birth.
Emily seems to think about it for a moment. “A burning house. Nothing much after that”
The church after their helicopter crash. So most likely none of the things afterwards. Thankfully.
“Did something happen?”
Seeing no reason to worry the girl any more than necessary she shakes her head, only to realise she needs to voice her thoughts for Emily to comprehend them. “N-no. Everything is fine now.”
Again Emily nods her head in understanding only to this time be interrupted by a creeping yawn she tries to hide with one hand; the other still clutching at Grace.
Grace’s heart swells with affection and she smiles gently, patting the hand inside hers. “Tired?”
The girl stubbornly shakes her head. “No.” It doesn't hold up though as she yawns once more. Her nose scrunched up the tiniest bit, no doubt the result of her eyebrows doing the same, but well hidden beneath the bandages; frustrated with her own body betraying her.
It wasn't night yet by far, but exhaustion sat heavy in both their bones. Now that Grace knew things would be alright the rest of the adrenaline in her veins too seemed to finally subside, but she grasped Emily’s reluctance well. Still, she hoped she could ease her trepidation somehow. “You can sleep, I will be here when you wake up. I-i promise.” She gently squeezes the tiny hand, trying to convey things like ‘I am here’, ‘you are not alone’, ‘you are safe now’.
The girl still seemed hesitant as she felt for the book from before instead.
Grace patiently watched her, curious where this was going. She understood not wanting to go to sleep. Her own times of rest were practically zero since being rescued; years of bad sleeping habits had prepared her for such a situation. But Emily shouldn't have to worry about that, if Grace had any say in it.
Her eyes wander from the single book to a stack on the bedside table. All in different colours and sizes. Maybe one had readable words for Grace in them too?
“W-would you like me t-to read something for you? A good night story.”
“Can you?” Emily perked up the tiniest bit, waiting patiently for more.
“Let's see if they have any books that aren't in braille, yeah?” So that Emily wouldn't have to let go of her, Grace grasped her hand as she leaned over to look through the stack. And indeed, one of the books had a mix of braille and printed words inside. The frontpage shows different animals in the forest, some wearing tiny hats. “I-i got one. It’s a fairytale collection.” Better than nothing.
Emily hums in affirmation as she scoots to the side, making space on the bed beside her, and again did Grace’s heart swell what felt several sizes in her chest. With only little hesitation she climbs into the offered spot, pulling the blanket partly over her legs making sure Emily still had enough to cover herself with. Once Grace was settled in, Emily closed any distance and reattached her grip around Grace’s arm, leaning her head against her shoulder for good measure.
Grace wondered if she could die from an overdose of affection she felt for the girl.
Another yawn creeps up on the little girl and Grace is certain she wouldn't last long into the story before succumbing to sleep.
She opens the book, eyes flitting over the pictures and a mix of braille and words on each page. It's easy to fall into a soft reading voice, she even attempts to give each character a somewhat unique voice, managing to pull a tiny giggle from Emily from time to time. “Here you go, my friend. Says the brown bear as he offers his favourite piece of yarn to the rabbit, ending their year long feud. And they would be friends for a lifetime to come.” She allows the story to linger with her last words, taking notice of the slack hold on her arm by the girl’s hand.
From somewhere beyond the room's walls the ghost of a melody rises through the corridors. It is slow and calming in her ears and Grace has a pretty good idea of its origin.
Emily hums tiredly and half asleep. “That sounds nice.” Then she finally seems to surrender to sleep.
Grace carefully closes the book, letting it rest in her lap as she leans her head back against the wall, not wanting to disturb the girl beside her. “Yeah, it does.” Her eyes drop shut and she allows the soft hums to serenade her into a dreamless sleep, the exhaustion of the past hours washing away with every slowing intake of air.