supergirl.

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affiliated with... @kenneidy.

That was the first thing the world learned about you.

Not your kindness. Not your courage. Not the small, impossible hope you carried even when everything around you had already begun to decay.

Your ability to endure.

Adults liked that about you.

A child who did not make things difficult. A child who listened. A child who understood that some questions were better left unasked.

You learned the language of absence early.

-----

Sherry continued pulling the bow across the strings of her violin. It's starting to sound better! At least, a little better. She's been at it for a few weeks now, and it almost sounds like music instead of the frightening screeching noise she had become used to while she was trying to learn. The whole reason she was even trying was because it was something her mom had suggested. When Sherry brought up the idea of trying to learn an instrument, her mother had mentioned the violin.

Well, she hadn't exactly suggested it as much as she sighed out the answer before sending the little girl back to her room. Her exact words being something akin to 'Violin or something, that isn't important.' But it was attention. Attention from her mom that she would desperately try to soak up at every opportunity. It might not have been perfect, but it was what she had. And so, here she was now. Standing in an empty band room at her school, trying to learn. Trying to make her mom proud. One glance at the clock on the wall told her it was the end of their session. Her teacher had left just a few moments ago to pick up a package from the office. Since they were over their normal time, the blonde girl began quietly packing her things. The violin back in it's case. The sheet music neatly slid into her folder before it was closed and put into her backpack.

While she was cleaning up, she could hear voices outside the classroom door.

'She's a sweet girl, but I can't keep waiting around for her ride to come in the evenings.' Were they talking about her? 'No, I wouldn't leave her alone, of course. But how do you forget your own child? I know her parents are very busy but even so! She's their only daughter. Surely that takes priority over their research.' She didn't want to hear any more, but she couldn't move away. Other people could see she needed her parents, so why couldn't they? 'And when someone finally does come, it isn't even one of them. It's someone who works for them. It's like they aren't at all concerned about her safety.' Sherry swallowed hard, blinking away the stinging in her eyes before she was retreating further into the classroom.

Glancing around, she found a notebook. She quickly wrote out a note to the teacher. Please allow Sherry to walk home in the afternoons after school, as well as in the evenings after her violin lessons. We'll reach out if anything changes. Thank you, Annette Birkin. She signed her mother's name nearly perfectly. A small trait she had picked up in the last year or so. When her parents weren't around to sign permission slips, sometimes she just did it herself. None of the teachers had ever said anything, so she had to assume it was pretty close to the real thing.

Wiping at her eyes, she crumpled up the note and shoved it into her backpack before she looked out into the hall. Her violin teacher was talking to the school's principal. The person who had driven her home before. Sherry's anxiety kicked into high gear. The last thing she needed was for her classmates to find out about that. They already hated her. They teased her for being too quiet, or too weird, or because her parents didn't come to any activities or family days. They didn't need to know that the principal was the one who ended up making sure she got home safely most afternoons.

"Hi, excuse me ma'am?" Sherry gently called out, clearing her throat and trying a little louder when they didn't hear her the first time. "I'm so sorry, I forgot to tell you I have a note from my moth- from my mom. I was supposed to give this to you right after school but I forgot. I'm so sorry for making you wait." She brought her backpack to her chest, pulling the newly crumpled piece of paper from where it had been sitting for no longer than a few moments. The little girl smoothed out the paper before handing it over. She would have had to be absolutely blind to miss the look of relief on her teacher's face when she realized this meant their evenings wouldn't go later than she had signed up for.

That was the first thing the world learned about you.

Not your kindness. Not your courage. Not the small, impossible hope you carried even when everything around you had already begun to decay.

Your ability to endure.

Adults liked that about you.

A child who did not make things difficult. A child who listened. A child who understood that some questions were better left unasked.

You learned the language of absence early.

The empty rooms. The unanswered calls. The moments where you waited quietly, convincing yourself that patience was the same thing as being loved.

You were a good child.

That was your first survival skill.

When the world ended, you did what you had always done.

You adapted.

The city burned.

Monsters walked where people had been. The things meant to protect you failed. The people who should have been your shelter became another source of fear.

And still, you searched for kindness.

That is the part that has always been strange about you.

You were given every reason to become cruel.

You were handed betrayal. Neglect. Fear.

You were made into something valuable before anyone remembered you were human.

A daughter.

A specimen.

A survivor.

A resource.

A responsibility.

A miracle.

So many names placed upon such small shoulders.

Everyone wanted something from you.

Your parents wanted their work to matter. Umbrella wanted what was inside you. The government wanted what you represented.

Even protection came with conditions.

Even safety came with doors that locked behind you.

Do you know the difference between a cage and a sanctuary?

Sometimes it is only the person holding the key.

You spent so much of your childhood being told where you belonged.

Where you could go. What you could become. Why you were important.

And because you were young, because you needed someone to believe in, you accepted it.

That is what people misunderstand about children.

They think captivity must always feel like captivity.

But a child does not need a prison wall if they have been taught that the walls are there for their own good.

You carried that with you for years.

The instinct to wait. To listen. To make sure you were allowed to move forward.

A hesitation before stepping through an open door.

A quiet question beneath every choice: Is this really mine to decide?

And yet, look at you now.

The child who was carried through the ruins of Raccoon City became someone who carries others.

The girl who needed saving became someone who saves.

The person everyone tried to define became someone who chose her own name.

But old things leave echoes.

There are still moments when you confuse endurance with identity.

When you look at everything you survived and wonder if survival is the only reason you were allowed to exist.

It is not.

You were never valuable because of what was inside your blood.

Not because of what your parents created. Not because of what Umbrella wanted. Not because of what anyone could extract from you.

You were valuable before anyone needed something from you.

That is the truth you have spent the longest time learning.

Here, where memories gather like fog, where the past refuses to stay buried, the question waiting for you is not whether you can survive.

You have already answered that.

The question is quieter.

More difficult.

After a lifetime of being protected, studied, guarded, and claimed, when no one is asking anything from you, when no one needs you to be a symbol, a cure, a survivor, a miracle, who are you allowed to become?

Not what they made.

Not what they saved.

Not what they needed.

You.

Just you."

The absolute feelings I'm having about this. Oh my gosh. Please feel free to always send me anything because this is giving me muse. In fact, the reason I'm answering this this way is because I have an idea!

And here as he opened his eyes….Zeno saw this girl that looked so much like the man in his memories. Zeno looked awful himself. Being revived with his head reattached yet also captured by the government wasn’t going to let him look his best.

His voice was very raspy and painful as he spoke, his now blue eyes watching her with caution.

“ If you don’t have anything for me then you can leave.”

Leave him to rot in his new cage….

( @prctctype ) ( Heya! Thanks for the follow! :3)

There was something so terribly confusing about looking at the man sitting before her. When she had asked to see him, to speak to him, she hadn't truly been sure why she wanted that. Sherry didn't know what it was about seeing him brought into custody that left her so shaken. Maybe it was the fact that the face she saw was one she had spent her childhood considering a friend. At least, for a while. Until every part of her world crumbled right from under her feet. The one adult she knew that would actually indulge her silly little questions had the very same face as the man she's currently locked eyes with. The room feels small, suffocating, as if all the air is being pulled from her lungs. Clearing her throat, the blonde sits up a little more straight. The child she used to be has so many questions. The woman she is now is fighting not to ask them.

Sherry requested that the guards stay outside the room. So, in this moment, it's only the two of them.

Hearing the rasp in his throat as he speaks tugs at something in her chest. Logically, she knows better. This isn't Albert. But, unfortunately for her, she's often the type to ignore logic and go with her gut. With her heart, even. How often have her coworkers warned her that it was going to end up being the thing that got her killed?

As if remembering the reason the reason she was here, she lifted the water bottle to show him. A small smile touches her lips, the lines around her eyes showing her age as she unscrews the lid of the bottle. Reaching out, she pushes it towards him on the table between them before retracting her hand. Even as she asked them to be left alone, she isn't naive enough to believe there isn't a team watching every second of the live feed in the room right beside them. If she gave any indication this wasn't going well, they would be in the room in seconds. She didn't want to accidentally trigger a response that wasn't needed. Yet.

"It's not much, but I thought some water might help?" Sherry, his head was reattached. You think water is going to help that? "Listen, I know you don't know me. Or, I suppose you do but you don't. And I don't know you but seeing you sitting here is." She takes a deep breath, adjusting once more in her chair. "I think you're well aware of why seeing you here is so strange for me." She finally whispers, looking up to meet his eyes once more. Eyes that were still so frustratingly familiar.

"I've told the guards that they're to report to me if you need anything."

I think what I want to do is post it with a little drabble? I have a few little ideas about different little blurbs of writing I want to do to go with it, and I think I'll post little things and reference back to the ask because oh my goodness it's so perfect :)

Lately, anytime the mention of more tests came up, Sherry tried to fight back a little. Some days she could claim she was tired from the test and training the previous day. Every once in a while, it actually worked. But lately, instead of one of her handlers, it had been Simmons coming to tell her it was time for her to have her blood drawn again. It was harder to say no to him. He liked to reminder her of how much he had done, how many strings he had to pull, to allow her to stay at his home instead of being locked down in some facility. She was sick and tired of being poked and prodded at every turn. Simmons had told her over and over again that it was for the good of the world. That the research that came from studying her blood could have the potential to save millions.

Today, she did exactly what she had wanted to do for so long. She said no. She stood up for herself and refused to give them any more blood until she was allowed to see Leon or Claire again. It had been years since she saw either one of them and she hated it. Sherry needed them. They were the only family she had left and it hurt being kept away from them.

But to hear the way Simmons told it, they weren't keeping her away. No, it seemed like he was suggesting that Leon and Claire didn't want to see her. "Are-" She whispered, clearing her throat before trying again. "Are you saying they don't want to see me?" Her voice shook and she hated it. All at once she was the same weak little girl who had to be saved and protected because she couldn't do anything for herself. Because her own parents were too busy protecting their research to step in and try to keep her safe. And now Leon and Claire too? How long had they pretended she wasn't a burden?

The blonde blinks away the tears forming in her eyes, the burning sensation prickling behind her eyelids. "This is why they never responded to my letters?" Letters she had been promised would be delivered. Simmons himself had personally promised her two best friends would get everything she sent for them. But then nothing came back. Not a visit. Not even a hello. And now? Now she knew why. It was because she was too much trouble. Because she wasn't wanted. Not by her parents, and now not by her best friends.

Decided to go back and out this post under a read more because I got a bit rambly but!

TLDR: I want to explore Sherry finding out her safety was held over Leon’s head so if anyone would be up to sending anons or messages in general about it, I’d love that! Have a lovely day you sweets ❤️

Sherry was coming to terms with the idea that this was where she was going to die. Her healing ability wasn't keeping up anymore. The last thing she could vaguely remember was the helicopter crashing and Jake was...oh god where was he? "Jake?" Her voice was weaker than she thought it would be. She needed to protect him. Find him and make sure he was ok. And for now, she was just going to tell herself it was because it was her job. Sherry tried to move, but the pain felt like it was vibrating just under the surface of her skin. And there was something lodged in her back. Her breathing was shallow, uneven as she called out for her partner once more. When strong arms lifted her, her eyes opened. She didn't know when she had closed them. "Jake?" The blonde questioned, finding herself looking into his face but at the same time, it wasn't. But it was familiar, and it gave her an overwhelming sense of security she never thought she would feel again.

"Did I die?" Sherry asked, leaning into his warmth much like she had so many years ago. "Is that why you're here? I don't want that. That would mean you were dead too. But doesn't it all stop hurting when you die?" What was it about being around him that made her fall right back into that curious little girl who reveled in the chance to spend her time with an adult who would actually answer her questions. Even when she asked too many of them. Even when they were about things she had no business being curious about. Albert would answer every single one and encourage her to keep asking more. He was her family in every way except blood. And now he was here? How? "I've missed you." Quiet tears slid down her cheeks, leaving wet trails that seemed to be freezing with each whistling gust of bone chilling air around them.

A slow smiles spreads across the woman's face, hands pressed to her midsection, seemingly to hold herself together. There was blood, a lot of it. Sherry had never seen her injuries doing this. They weren't healing. Or, if they were, it was so slowly that she wasn't sure it would matter at this point. "No. You said you would never get mad at me. So take that back." The copper taste on her tongue is new. Was this what it felt like when your body didn't heal itself? Her head falls back against the wall behind them, the one they're currently hidden behind hoping to avoid being seen. Somehow, this seems fitting. Almost a peaceful way to go, even. Sitting beside Leon, teasing a little back and forth like they had so many years ago? Sherry had been so excited to see him again. So many years being kept away from him and Claire had been awful. But when they met again, he was exactly the same. It was the strangest, loveliest sense of coming home.

Maybe that was why the idea of death here wasn't so scary.

"There are positives, you know." Her voice is a whisper. Low because they need to avoid whatever is beyond this wall. But also because it currently feels like too much effort to force her voice out any louder. "No more tests. No more needles." Sherry shivered gently at the thought of how many times she had had blood drawn. Of how many tests had been run on her to figure out how her healing worked. What the virus had done to her. Maybe that wasn't a worry for her anymore. "Will you give Claire a hug for me next time you see her?" The smile that had been on her face was slipping now. The reality of what she was leaving behind was starting to weigh a little heavier on her. "And can you tell Jake-" A choked sob left her lips, her arms tightening around her middle. Could she ask him for a hug? Was that still allowed? "Will you tell Jake I'm sorry I waited so long to tell him how much I love him? I wish- I wish I had just been honest-"

Her words cut off as her eyes slid closed for a moment. Finally she turned her head to look over at Leon. The reality of this being their last moment together was currently suffocating her. "I'm sorry you're first day as a cop was so shitty." Sherry offered him a wobbly smile, but continued on. "I'm sorry you got stuck doing this just to protect me. I'm sorry it-" Wasn't worth it. "I'm just sorry. Thank you for being one of the first people to ever care about me." There was so much more she wanted to say, needed to say, but she knew it wouldn't stay quiet around them for much longer.

"Sit, please?" Sherry knows her voice must sound as tired as he currently looks. At this point, she's stopped counting days they've been locked down in this facility. And now, they've been thrown together in a cell which can only mean something is about to happen. The look of blood smeared across Jake's face makes her uneasy. If she was being honest with herself, she would admit exactly why it makes her so nervous to see him hurt. The idea of this man being hurt twists something in her stomach that makes her desperately want to find a way to protect him. To get both of them out of this place so they can just be ok again. But since it's dangerous to admit those things, especially in her line of work, Sherry will chalk it up to wanting to make sure she does her job well. Part of her job being to protect this man and keep them both safe. That's the easier answer. That's the one that doesn't break her heart at the end of all of this.

Sherry tears a piece from the barely there hospital gown she had been put in at some point when this all started. The blonde walks over to wet it in the small sink in the corner of the room before closing the distance between them once more. Stepping between his knees, she begins gently wiping at the blood caked on his face. His lips were cracked and looked painful so she let the damp cloth rest there for a moment while she leaned in closer. "I don't know how long they'll leave us in here together. This was either an accident, or." Something worse is about to happen to us. "Doesn't matter why we're here. I don't know exactly where we are, but I can pick up a tiny bit of what the guards have been saying. I'm not sure how much they've been talking around you, but they seem to avoid talking too much around me. From the little bit I have heard, we're somewhere in China. My Cantonese is a little rusty, admittedly, so I don't know exactly where we are." Languages had been a focus for her while she had been living with Simmons, and she could only assume it was for a moment just like this. She has a feeling Jake had a similar upbringing, but the guards seem much more afraid of him than they do her. Maybe that's something she can use in her favor to get them out of here.

The blonde's eyes are wide with rapt attention as she watches everything the man beside her does. Every little change he makes to a formula, every slight modification of time or space that affects the outcome of what's happening in front of them. Her mom and dad don't let her see these things. But her uncle Albert? He knows how curious Sherry is to see what he's working on. And he doesn't get mad at her for asking silly little questions about what he's doing. It makes her want to stick by his side through all of it. To learn as much as he's willing to teach. Everything he does feels important. Like she needs to pay close attention so that one day, maybe she could even be working beside him just like her dad.

Teeth nervously pull at the blonde's bottom lip as she looks up at the man currently demanding answers. She curls her fingers into her palm, forming a tight fist before a small pain flare shoots through the darkening bruises of her hand. The well worn leather of the glove, his glove she had stolen at some point, crinkles a little under the strain of her movement. "I didn't say anything because I didn't want you to freak out." She teases, but her smile falls a little flat as she tugs the glove off, offering up her hand to show him the way the illness is beginning to crawl it's way up her hand, almost wrapping around her wrist now. "I thought it wouldn't move as fast because of my healing but." She stops short, glancing between him and the angry dark black and purple splotches staining her skin.