Author's Note: it'll probably quickly become obvious who the narrator of this is, and about whom she is lamenting. However, this is just the product of my twisted mind, and quite a lot of contemplation, and does not reflect the canon story or timeline. I know this, so you needn't point it out to me. Also, if you can, please, don't flame me. If you want to criticize something that you dislike, at least tell me what it is. I can't improve unless you do.
Disclaimer: Resident Evil is a copyright of Capcom, inc., and I assert no ownership of it. If by their request, I shall immediately remove this piece from fanfiction.net, and anywhere else that it may be posted and\or archived.
It's odd, truly, how this happened. Most see me as the 'young, innocent little girl,' but that's not the case. In fact, I'm the farthest from innocent that you'll ever find. Perhaps not as secular as some, but not at all innocent. Why is this, you ask? Maybe you didn't; regardless, I'm telling you. You're my diary, damn it, and if you don't listen to me, and if he's gone, no one else will.
I still can't believe that he's gone. Whenever I see Chris, Jill, Barry, and Brad, I can't confront them with the truth. When they see how despondent I've become, I just give the 'Post Traumatic Stress Disorder' show, and they leave me alone. Sometimes, I think that Jill knows that something else is wrong; maybe that 'women's intuition' really does exist. If it does, then maybe she's right about me not being a woman after all. Everyone thinks that 'poor little Rebecca' is upset about the mansion, about seeing my team torn to shreds before my eyes, about seeing so many people die, about seeing the terrors that only man can make. No, that's not it at all. Sure, seeing real-life zombies didn't exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, but it sure as hell didn't scar me for life.
However, it's a lot easier as long as they believe that. I don't know how they'd treat me if they learned the truth. I don't know how I'd treat me if they learned the truth. Somehow, having a dirty little secret lessens the pain somewhat. Perhaps I'm just sick that way; if they learned the truth, and that I know what I know, they'd definitely call me sick. Don't misunderstand me, I didn't like seeing my team torn to shreds by those demon hounds. I didn't like seeing Speyer having to cut Dewey's hand off when it was caught in the helicopter wreckage, only to be carried off by those Cerberus Units... Excuse me, those 'devil dogs,' and seeing Dewey join his own hand among those beasts. However, the only one of those men that I really cared about was Marini. It was disturbing to see the look on his face as we made him abandon us, since he really cared about every member of the team, even myself. Sure, he treated me like his little girl sometimes, but he's a father; they all do that. He genuinely cared. I don't know what happened to him, whether or not he survived the initial battles, but he certainly didn't make it out alive when that mansion went up; I had to do it, though. I was under orders to cover-up the evidence, and make it look like 'childish tampering gone awry.'
Yes, speaking of childish tampering, we have Chris Redfield. An honest man, but too idealistic to make a real soldier. That's probably why he was discharged from the Air Force. He struck a superior officer, or so the file said, but it didn't list the reason. Probably some command to do something that he didn't approve of. What a twit. He's not a stupid man, at least not tactically, and not academically, but, despite how good of a fighter he is, he's not worldly enough to see the whole picture of things. All of the S.T.A.R.S. suffer from that... All but the two of us. Now, I'm the only one that's left. I hope that he escaped, just as he planned, and that the virus worked. He said that he'd come back some day. I'm tired of following Umbrella's orders, being their good little mole, but I have to, so that I can keep scraping up information for Bioject. Where was I? Oh, right, Chris. I'm glad for his childish idealism. When I first met him in the mansion, I didn't 'think he was a zombie.' Those walking sacks of decaying flesh are usually too stupid to climb stairs, much less open doors. No, I had planned on killing as many S.T.A.R.S. as I could, so that I could just get the operation over with, and get the hell out of the mansion so that he could start the deception. However, when I saw that it was Chris, and how much he tried to fight that 'insect repellent (it was mace, but it would've looked somewhat suspicious if I had a canister of mace for fighting off the Ma-103s. Yes, everyone, a can of mace works better than a shotgun. The damn things have absolutely NO resistance to poisons or contaminants. The mace'll actually kill the poor bastards; their lungs have no ability to filter anything. They're failures, after all. Just economically practical failures),' I was very intrigued. If he could survive for that long with that stupid Bowie knife of his, I thought that he could be of some use, if only to shoot in the leg as a distraction. I owe him, and I hate it, though. I wish that I would've killed him. He screwed up our plans, along with that little bitch Jill! I hate that damn woman, and I hate how they stumbled into everything!
Speaking of Jill, she was the anomaly of the group. No one expected that she'd survive that long. Hell, Brad had a longer life expectancy than she did. Wonder why, everyone? Barry. He was supposed to kill-off the little meddler before she could cause any trouble. Of course, he and his damn idealism had to spoil everything. We had speculated that she'd be one of those to survive the first confrontation with those 'monsters.' After all, ex-Delta means a lot, especially when you consider her age. So, we had Barry to even the odds. Unfortunately, Barry somehow learned that the threat against his family was all a hoax, and he stopped the Judas routine in time to prevent Jill from dying. Don't ask me how, but it happened. He should've just allowed Lisa Trevor to remove her face, and wear it for awhile. It would be saving me a lot of grief.
Sure, Jill's a kind, if somewhat intrusive, woman, but I can't stomach her. She, Chris, and Barry ruined everything for us, and now they're trying to MAKE ME FEEL BETTER!!! At least Chickenheart stays the hell out of matters that don't concern him. If anyone survives this, it'll be him. Courage is knowing when to fight, and when to stay out of matters that aren't of any consequence to you, not blindly fighting everything that you can find. He'll escape Raccoon soon, and I truly hope that he does. He won't report anything, and Umbrella will probably ignore him. However, it's not that I want him to survive. I don't care what happens to him, to be honest. Even if the Ne-T unit shoved its tentacles down his throat and tore out his stomach, I'd be ambivalent. I just want more privacy, and more peace and quiet. Although Brad doesn't directly harass me about my 'depression,' he has a disturbing attraction toward me, and the times that he's asked me out are more numerous than the digits of pi to which I can count. I'm just glad that he rescued us by dropping that rocket launcher onto the helipad. Allies or not, that Tyrant had gone berserk, and it would've attacked me as well as the others.
Now, I guess that brings me to the present. I don't know how he is, but I really miss him. He never showed his true nature to anyone but me, and that was only in private. The whispered words of affection after passionate lovemaking, his innocent advances. Yes, that's right, he was the innocent one in the relationship. Who would've thought, eh? I know that I'll see him again someday, because, although I feel truly sad... No, the agony his absence brings can't be described by words, and it would be trite and moot to say anything more descriptive, anyway... That he's not here right now, I know that he's still alive because I don't feel empty. Sure, for a woman of science, I'm still capable of believing in the arcane connection between lovers. We were a lot more than that, though. He's not cold at all, actually. He was my best, if only, friend; witty, interesting, and very, very kind. I remember that we'd meet as often as possible, which was very often. I had my own apartment, and no social life, aside from my parents, who really didn't care more than a 'normal' parent should. They were all-too-proud to have their 'brilliant baby' be commissioned by Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, inc., and never knew that I was 'recruited' by S.T.A.R.S. He and I met at Umbrella, not S.T.A.R.S., though. We met awhile before S.T.A.R.S. Awhile in my view, anyway. It was only a few months, but it seemed to be a very long time.
It's bewildering to not awaken next to him, and actually be alone in my apartment, and I still can't get used to the cold bed next to me. I've taken to sleeping with a heated cushion, just so I don't cry in my sleep. I'll always just try to imagine how, whether we made love or not, we'd just lie together, and let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat subdue me into a contented sleep. His last words would always be, 'I love you, Rebecca.' That's why he made me wear that flak vest, 'just as a precaution.' He always loved me, and that's why he refused to let me take the virus, even though Birkin guaranteed that it was 99.9% effective. His response when I asked to use it was, '99.9% won't guarantee that I'll be able to sleep at night, and it won't guarantee that you'll come back to me.'
Every night, I still whisper what I always would to him, even if he can't hear me.
"Goodnight, Albert. I love you."
Author's concluding note: yes, indeed, I have quite an interest in exploring all of the improbable aspects of any series. I think that Wesker and Rebecca would be an excellent pairing, if the conditions were correct, and since they aren't, I decided to change them. Again, this doesn't reflect the canon timeline and events, aside from the mansion incident, and Wesker's method of utilizing the 'dead-emulation' (I've no idea what its true name is...) virus. I certainly hope that you (the reader) enjoyed this. Guten Nacht.
Disclaimer: Resident Evil is a copyright of Capcom, inc., and I assert no ownership of it. If by their request, I shall immediately remove this piece from fanfiction.net, and anywhere else that it may be posted and\or archived.
It's odd, truly, how this happened. Most see me as the 'young, innocent little girl,' but that's not the case. In fact, I'm the farthest from innocent that you'll ever find. Perhaps not as secular as some, but not at all innocent. Why is this, you ask? Maybe you didn't; regardless, I'm telling you. You're my diary, damn it, and if you don't listen to me, and if he's gone, no one else will.
I still can't believe that he's gone. Whenever I see Chris, Jill, Barry, and Brad, I can't confront them with the truth. When they see how despondent I've become, I just give the 'Post Traumatic Stress Disorder' show, and they leave me alone. Sometimes, I think that Jill knows that something else is wrong; maybe that 'women's intuition' really does exist. If it does, then maybe she's right about me not being a woman after all. Everyone thinks that 'poor little Rebecca' is upset about the mansion, about seeing my team torn to shreds before my eyes, about seeing so many people die, about seeing the terrors that only man can make. No, that's not it at all. Sure, seeing real-life zombies didn't exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, but it sure as hell didn't scar me for life.
However, it's a lot easier as long as they believe that. I don't know how they'd treat me if they learned the truth. I don't know how I'd treat me if they learned the truth. Somehow, having a dirty little secret lessens the pain somewhat. Perhaps I'm just sick that way; if they learned the truth, and that I know what I know, they'd definitely call me sick. Don't misunderstand me, I didn't like seeing my team torn to shreds by those demon hounds. I didn't like seeing Speyer having to cut Dewey's hand off when it was caught in the helicopter wreckage, only to be carried off by those Cerberus Units... Excuse me, those 'devil dogs,' and seeing Dewey join his own hand among those beasts. However, the only one of those men that I really cared about was Marini. It was disturbing to see the look on his face as we made him abandon us, since he really cared about every member of the team, even myself. Sure, he treated me like his little girl sometimes, but he's a father; they all do that. He genuinely cared. I don't know what happened to him, whether or not he survived the initial battles, but he certainly didn't make it out alive when that mansion went up; I had to do it, though. I was under orders to cover-up the evidence, and make it look like 'childish tampering gone awry.'
Yes, speaking of childish tampering, we have Chris Redfield. An honest man, but too idealistic to make a real soldier. That's probably why he was discharged from the Air Force. He struck a superior officer, or so the file said, but it didn't list the reason. Probably some command to do something that he didn't approve of. What a twit. He's not a stupid man, at least not tactically, and not academically, but, despite how good of a fighter he is, he's not worldly enough to see the whole picture of things. All of the S.T.A.R.S. suffer from that... All but the two of us. Now, I'm the only one that's left. I hope that he escaped, just as he planned, and that the virus worked. He said that he'd come back some day. I'm tired of following Umbrella's orders, being their good little mole, but I have to, so that I can keep scraping up information for Bioject. Where was I? Oh, right, Chris. I'm glad for his childish idealism. When I first met him in the mansion, I didn't 'think he was a zombie.' Those walking sacks of decaying flesh are usually too stupid to climb stairs, much less open doors. No, I had planned on killing as many S.T.A.R.S. as I could, so that I could just get the operation over with, and get the hell out of the mansion so that he could start the deception. However, when I saw that it was Chris, and how much he tried to fight that 'insect repellent (it was mace, but it would've looked somewhat suspicious if I had a canister of mace for fighting off the Ma-103s. Yes, everyone, a can of mace works better than a shotgun. The damn things have absolutely NO resistance to poisons or contaminants. The mace'll actually kill the poor bastards; their lungs have no ability to filter anything. They're failures, after all. Just economically practical failures),' I was very intrigued. If he could survive for that long with that stupid Bowie knife of his, I thought that he could be of some use, if only to shoot in the leg as a distraction. I owe him, and I hate it, though. I wish that I would've killed him. He screwed up our plans, along with that little bitch Jill! I hate that damn woman, and I hate how they stumbled into everything!
Speaking of Jill, she was the anomaly of the group. No one expected that she'd survive that long. Hell, Brad had a longer life expectancy than she did. Wonder why, everyone? Barry. He was supposed to kill-off the little meddler before she could cause any trouble. Of course, he and his damn idealism had to spoil everything. We had speculated that she'd be one of those to survive the first confrontation with those 'monsters.' After all, ex-Delta means a lot, especially when you consider her age. So, we had Barry to even the odds. Unfortunately, Barry somehow learned that the threat against his family was all a hoax, and he stopped the Judas routine in time to prevent Jill from dying. Don't ask me how, but it happened. He should've just allowed Lisa Trevor to remove her face, and wear it for awhile. It would be saving me a lot of grief.
Sure, Jill's a kind, if somewhat intrusive, woman, but I can't stomach her. She, Chris, and Barry ruined everything for us, and now they're trying to MAKE ME FEEL BETTER!!! At least Chickenheart stays the hell out of matters that don't concern him. If anyone survives this, it'll be him. Courage is knowing when to fight, and when to stay out of matters that aren't of any consequence to you, not blindly fighting everything that you can find. He'll escape Raccoon soon, and I truly hope that he does. He won't report anything, and Umbrella will probably ignore him. However, it's not that I want him to survive. I don't care what happens to him, to be honest. Even if the Ne-T unit shoved its tentacles down his throat and tore out his stomach, I'd be ambivalent. I just want more privacy, and more peace and quiet. Although Brad doesn't directly harass me about my 'depression,' he has a disturbing attraction toward me, and the times that he's asked me out are more numerous than the digits of pi to which I can count. I'm just glad that he rescued us by dropping that rocket launcher onto the helipad. Allies or not, that Tyrant had gone berserk, and it would've attacked me as well as the others.
Now, I guess that brings me to the present. I don't know how he is, but I really miss him. He never showed his true nature to anyone but me, and that was only in private. The whispered words of affection after passionate lovemaking, his innocent advances. Yes, that's right, he was the innocent one in the relationship. Who would've thought, eh? I know that I'll see him again someday, because, although I feel truly sad... No, the agony his absence brings can't be described by words, and it would be trite and moot to say anything more descriptive, anyway... That he's not here right now, I know that he's still alive because I don't feel empty. Sure, for a woman of science, I'm still capable of believing in the arcane connection between lovers. We were a lot more than that, though. He's not cold at all, actually. He was my best, if only, friend; witty, interesting, and very, very kind. I remember that we'd meet as often as possible, which was very often. I had my own apartment, and no social life, aside from my parents, who really didn't care more than a 'normal' parent should. They were all-too-proud to have their 'brilliant baby' be commissioned by Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, inc., and never knew that I was 'recruited' by S.T.A.R.S. He and I met at Umbrella, not S.T.A.R.S., though. We met awhile before S.T.A.R.S. Awhile in my view, anyway. It was only a few months, but it seemed to be a very long time.
It's bewildering to not awaken next to him, and actually be alone in my apartment, and I still can't get used to the cold bed next to me. I've taken to sleeping with a heated cushion, just so I don't cry in my sleep. I'll always just try to imagine how, whether we made love or not, we'd just lie together, and let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat subdue me into a contented sleep. His last words would always be, 'I love you, Rebecca.' That's why he made me wear that flak vest, 'just as a precaution.' He always loved me, and that's why he refused to let me take the virus, even though Birkin guaranteed that it was 99.9% effective. His response when I asked to use it was, '99.9% won't guarantee that I'll be able to sleep at night, and it won't guarantee that you'll come back to me.'
Every night, I still whisper what I always would to him, even if he can't hear me.
"Goodnight, Albert. I love you."
Author's concluding note: yes, indeed, I have quite an interest in exploring all of the improbable aspects of any series. I think that Wesker and Rebecca would be an excellent pairing, if the conditions were correct, and since they aren't, I decided to change them. Again, this doesn't reflect the canon timeline and events, aside from the mansion incident, and Wesker's method of utilizing the 'dead-emulation' (I've no idea what its true name is...) virus. I certainly hope that you (the reader) enjoyed this. Guten Nacht.