Disclaimer: All respective characters unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.

WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk.

Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei

Chapter 2: Confessions - Mind

"He's joining us for the investigation? I guess that's fine," Jill agreed.

"No, he can't."

The sudden contradicting comment was followed by a dead silence and startled looks were directed to the culprit. Chris was seen covering his mouth after his quick interjection.

Wheeler decided to break the ice. "That's interesting, Chris. Why do you think that?"

"Er…Well…" Oh crap, I can't believe I let loose something like that. Chris stuttered: "He doesn't seem so…so sure of himself?"

"Well, I'm sure he looks gentle, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he's. Not. Tough!" Jill reached across the single sofa to the other to elbow Chris in the arm, making sure that the last words, although hushed; were sharp and clear. With a slight hiss of pain, Chris got the point and immediately apologized. "Sorry, sir. I'm not trying to be rude or anything."

"Um, yeah. Besides, since the Deputy has recommended Alex himself so I reckon that he's capable," Another nudge with the elbow. "Right, Chris?"

"Well, I hope you're right," Wheeler smiled. "And I hope my judgement is right on this. Alex has gone through life-and-death situations. He fights good. He's got his father's soldier genes alright. Besides, that boy's volunteered to help."

"He volunteered?" Chris's lips unconsciously let loose the question, although he was more interested on Alex's military past.

"Yup. Even asked him again and again if he was sure." Wheeler crossed his fingers, deep in almost a nostalgic contemplation. "I have to mention another thing; I've grown to love the kid like my own. I'll dare not forsake this wish."

"This wish?" Jill asked. "Why this? What's so special about this mission that he wants to join so much?"

Wheeler let out a slight sigh. "Maybe he wants to make up for something? Anyone who acts like that must be. But I'll say it again. That kid's gone through much. But then someone's gonna interrogate him for details, B.S.A.A. style! No one tells me nothing." The two agents laughed.

As Jill and Wheeler chatted the night away, Chris, who occasionally smiled with their jokes, was deep in thought.

'Humble' would be the word. Jill was spot-on when she said 'gentle', because that man seemed very peace-loving. But it has also been some time since he's seen another soldier having such low morale….or self-esteem for that matter; he could tell by his body language. For a soldier there is little use for words in battle. All a soldier needs is a comrade like Jill. A grunt, a nod, a wave was enough to mean even life and death; having Jill understanding almost every signal he puts out makes her the perfect partner for any mission. To Chris, it was like having found the Holy Grail…whatever people say that is. It's more than body language – it is that special frequency that connects two people, and there is no need for reason to know how it works; no one even knows how it works. Glancing over to Jill, he was glad that he had her. He's even gladder that she's alive and well, albeit her lighter skin tone, eye colour and hair shade.

Seeing her changed appearance was enough to motivate Chris to another level – Nothing would hurt his companions anymore; he would make sure of that personally. That's one of the main reasons he came to this region rather than the southern outbreak where the major action was going on; it was because Jill insisted to come, and Chris felt obliged to follow her instead. No. He wasn't going to lose her again.

"Chris?"

Chris turned to look at Jill. "Chris you seemed pretty serious there."

It was then that he realized that he had furrowed his brows so hard and so long that they hurt. He also became aware of the embarrassing position he was in: sitting with his head rested on his fisted hand like a statue or two that he remembered seeing in his travels around the country, not that he was doing otherwise anyway.

"Sorry, Deputy Wheeler. Just…uh- thinking about the mission." Oh great. He was being rude yet again. If he could right then and there, he would have slapped his hands against his cheeks. I need to focus, Chris thought. "Oh shit!" Wheeler slapped his palms together. "We've talked for so long that I forgot to fill you in on the details!"

"It's okay," Jill assured. "It's an investigation anyway so the real information comes then."

"You're quite right there, but still…" Wheeler shrugged in embarrassment. "You know what, I'm being damn rude for keeping you awake talking about nothing in particular; you must be tired. Here are your keys. I'll brief you tomorrow when we leave at nine sharp. So be sure to come down for breakfast at eight."

"Thanks," Jill stood up and took the keys, marked 205 and 207. "The pleasure's all ours. Goodnight."

"What's wrong with Room 206?" Chris looked over Jill's shoulder at the keys. Jill elbowed him lightly. "Oof!"

"What's with one room apart being a problem? Scared that I'll be waking you up from nightmares slower because of the extra running distance of one more room?"

"Oh come on," Chris chuckled. Deputy Wheeler explained: "Because we'll be doing this together, we'll live closer to each other. Alex used to live in 206, but he's been living upstairs for the psychologist at the sixth floor."

"Why can't he just come down?" Jill asked.

"Oh, that guy has a daughter. She loves a high view." Wheeler scratched his neck. "So what can I do? Alex should just get over himself and take the elevator. He's just lucky that this inn has only six floors."

"I see," said Chris, trying hard not to show any empathic expression on the information he had just attained. "Goodnight, Deputy. See you tomorrow."

The police officer nodded. The two turned to leave the office and rode the elevator to the second floor with their heavy bags. They both bid each other a quick goodnight and went into their rooms.

Chris entered Room 207 and heaved a big sigh, plopping down the bed with a big human T. In his head he was grumbling.

No wonder he didn't seem normal to him - It's because he just wasn't normal. A psychologist!? Great guns, and now he's going to join them!?

You must be kidding me…

Low self esteem is bad enough. A mentally ill nutjob? One like that can NEVER go to the battlefield. But how could he have objected after everything was settled and having the Deputy pouring his heart out on allowing Alex to join? The night in the office was more of the Deputy's P.R. work for Alex's membership than of the mission briefing. It was so obvious that he let the psychologist information slip out the last so that they would be less likely to pay attention to Alex's state of mind. After all, the mission's more important, right?

Hmph, won't work on me buddy. Not on me. Chris thought. That man was smart, I'll give him that.

Yes: truth be told Chris was angry. Yet he couldn't bring himself to hate Wheeler for that.

But with Wesker's death, things should die down after the outbreak is defeated, like rampaging beasts without their master's orders…It shouldn't be that hard. And he'd agree with Wheeler. People that went through something enough to volunteer for a dangerous mission is surely trying make up for something…whatever that might be. But more importantly, maybe it's this kind of people would be very efficient fighters because they don't care about their lives. It's a very grim and even a cruel thing to think of, but maybe letting Alex join wouldn't be so bad.

Maybe he could allow this…

…just this once.

Man, I've really gotten so much softer since Wesker's death…

As his eyelids gave away to sleep, Chris couldn't help but turn his head sideways where his nose almost nudged the bed sheets. He inhaled deeply that new smell that he so loved before allowing his body to relax.

That's nice. Smells like fresh-misted water in the dawning sun.

…whatever that means.

With a smile, Chris Redfield slept deeply like he hadn't in a long time.

"Alright Alex," A surprisingly calm voice unbefitting the atmosphere called for his name. "Alex. Now Alex, listen to me."

"I-I am, sir," a shivering voice responded.

"No, you are not, Alex. You are only telling me what you think I want to hear," a palm touched the cheek and proceeded to wipe the sweaty forehead.

"Uh…" Alex's closed eyes shuddered where the fingers brushed past them.

"Alex. Stop trying to be brave. Alex. Alex – listen to me. Don't. Be. Brave. Urgh…how do I pound this into you...," Looking down at his shivering subject, the man shuffled up and down beside the horizontal chair where Alex was laying on.

"Alex. Alex. Come back to me, Alex. Alex," the voice was still very calm, but with tension. "Alex. Tell me if you are strong enough to do this."

Taking in short breaths, Alex's response sounded like a combination of a gurgle and a grunt of confirmation. The other man nodded in affirmation and walked to a wooden chair a distance away, where he sat himself down with a creak.

"Alright, breathe in as long as you need," The subject tried to do as told, and started to calm down. After a few minutes, Alex let out something between an exhalation of breath and a moan.

"Alright," Holding up a piece of paper, knowing perfectly well that Alex had his eyes closed and the room, dark. He continued: "You drew this. You have explained well your sorrows and worries, your grief and your guilt. Now tell me: What is his name?"

"…"

The one sitting on the chair waited patiently for a comprehensible response.

"Not…"

"It's…everyone. Why? It's him…Not me…It's her. Guilty too. It's not me…? Maybe. Perhaps," Alex's head thrashed lightly from the left side to the right. "It's…me…? OH God!..."

"Alex, stay with me, Alex."

"Oh God it's dead – OH MY- FUCK no - IT'S ALIVE!...Of course it is…No, no, no, no, it's not moving! No…wait…No…stop…!" Alex's frantic expressions turned to desperate pleadings. "No…"

"No…"

"…"

"Alex."

"…"

"Why do you describe it that way? Because it is a…?"

"…Schism."

"Alright Alex," satisfaction was heard in the voice. "You have done well."

"…no…I have…not…" taking shallower breaths, Alex's answer quivered once more. "…I'm sorry, sir! I…!"

"Alex, I need you to come back," the tone of voice was firm as ever. But Alex's torso started to rise from its rest again. "Alex, Alex; I need you to come back. Now."

As Alex's brows begin to furrow, the voice that guided him became louder.

"Now Alex, as I count down to one, you will come out of everything you are in."

"Three!"

Alex's body began jerking, his breaths getting shorter and laboured.

"Two."

Alex's fingers flew off its grip as if reacting to the number. It was then the arms realized that they were strapped in place and they began to claw about and struggle. His mouth opened to scream but only a frantic breathless voice barely escaped his locked throat.

"…one."

Then everything stopped.

Only laboured breathing and the ticking of a clock beside the seated figure echoed in the dark room.

After what seemed like ten minutes, the man sighed, got up and went towards Alex, whose respiration rate had returned to normal.

Hands reached out to unwind Alex's fingers, which are still stuck in a clawed position. He gave a soft smile.

"I find you…very intriguing, Alex…"

The lying figure shuddered to the name.

"…very intriguing indeed."

TBC