Chapter Text
Prologue
Eight months ago
Wearing the skin of an agent she'd left unconscious under a car in the parking lot, June strode through the halls of the EON facility, maintaining a certain confidence in her walk that she hoped made her look like she belonged. The agent must've had a few friends, because a handful of others greeted her as she walked.
"Good to see ya, Larry," one had called as she passed through the metal detector at the entrance.
"You too," she'd answered simply, then moved on.
Another gave her a nod in the hall, and a third asked "How's the wife?", to which she answered, "She's doing a lot better," and hoped he wouldn't ask any follow-ups. She had access to all of Larry's memories, of course, so she knew about his wife's accident and steady recovery, but didn't have time for a lengthy conversation. Not only that, but she'd recently started to worry more about giving herself away. With every interaction, no matter how brief, she felt hyper-aware of any trace of her accent. She'd always done her best to keep it out, and it usually worked... until she'd met Victor Vale. Somehow, he's been able to recognize her, no matter what form she took. She wasn't entirely sure what gave it away, but since no visible traits carried over, she figured the lilt, faint as it was, was a good guess. So, she smothered it. At least, she tried to. Whether it would fool Victor, she wasn't sure, but Larry's co-workers didn't seem to suspect a thing.
At the end of the hall, she turned left down another, skinnier one, and the background sounds of footsteps and occasional chatter died down as she drew farther and farther from the nearest agent. She passed an office or two, but they were all dark, and most of them lacked nameplates, suggesting they might not even be assigned yet. The realization was reassuring. She might look like an agent, and be able to pass as him for the odd line of small talk in the hall, but she had no desire to be him for any significant length of time.
To her luck, though, the hall was deserted, along with the offices she passed and the other halls that branched off, and if this whole wing was quiet, she doubted anyone would be in the room she was heading to.
She turned into another hall, then another. The hum of an industrial cooling system replaced any human sounds of the main building, and finally, she reached the door marked Cold Storage.
Ignoring every warning sign, from Authorized Personnel Only to Biohazardous Materials, she swiped Larry's key card and pushed open the door.
The room was dark, sterile and lined with metal, from shelving units to countertops to trays of instruments. It looked like a sinister combination of a laboratory, surgical suite and morgue, and all of those drove home the discomforting insufficiency of the label Cold Storage. Yes, it was cold, and it was used to store samples, but with a wall dedicated to holding the bodies of EOs, it sounded sickeningly euphemistic.
Maybe, she wondered, as she approached the freezer racks, it was simply the common ground she had with the cadavers that made her nervous. It wasn't much, but the fact that they were all EOs was something, and maybe it was enough to put her on edge. Maybe it was enough to spark, in the back of her mind, the realization that one day, she could be brought in here, cold and lifeless as the others.
She shook off the thought, and with it, Larry's body, opting instead for one she hoped would be a more familiar sight — the man she'd worn on the night of Marcella Morgan's death. A moment later, though, she reconsidered. While June had betrayed Marcella in the end, she had by no means been an ally to the man in the frozen unit in front of her. She didn't plan to lie to him about her identity, of course, but figured it might not be the best choice to have the first thing he saw be a reminder of that night. Instead, she became a young woman, not too dissimilar from her true self, with loose brown curls and a dusting of freckles.
After checking her reflection in the metal door, as if to make sure her form was correct, she reached out, grasped the handle and gave it a sharp tug. It took a little more force than she'd expected, but came ajar on her second attempt. She then took hold of the tray and rolled it out.
When she saw how still he was, her conviction wavered. She'd pored over every file she could find, from EON's notes to the rogue Dr. Haverty's, even managing to scrounge up a few from Victor Vale. Besides that, she'd drawn on the memories of a few doctors and scientists to make sure she interpreted everything correctly. No one else seemed to have figured out what she did, not individually, but with all the information combined, the conclusion had seemed clear to her: The EO they all thought they'd killed a year ago was still alive. He had to be. Haverty's serum was effective, but temporary. It was no match for a healing factor this powerful.
As she looked down at him, though, she faltered. He looked like a body. She started to question her conclusions, wondering if she'd somehow missed something... but only for a second. Then, it hit her: He was faking. Maintaining what little advantage he thought he had.
June leaned down, eyes trailing over every detail of his face, checking for movement. He wasn't breathing, but maybe he didn't have to. Finally, she just lost patience.
"I know you're alive," she said, masking nothing and letting the lilt back in where it chose. "I'm here to help. Knock it off."
For a second, she thought he might refuse. After only a moment's hesitation, though, Eli Ever opened his eyes.