I took the long road in realizing I can't squash a seven year relationship into a few paragraphs, nor a mental breakdown. That kind of sucks. So here's the shorthand version :( Massive warning, this chapter may contain triggers for people; implied non-con sex, tentacles and abduction/ violence. Also a bit of hinted B&D.
I am never writing two stories side by side again for the one plot. This is madness. I'm so sorry it's taken so long for this update!
PANDORA'S SONG
CHAPTER TEN: Kiss for the Dying
It was too easy to fall into the old rhythm, to remember the old signals, to have some form of…trust. Chris remembered how efficient Wesker had been with fighting – when he was actually paying attention and wasn't being a complete and total dick. What Wesker thought of him the younger man didn't know, nor care. All that mattered was the shooting the right creatures, falling back under cover fire and then repeating the process again.
Oh, he had a million and one questions. But questions fell flat when your life was at stake.
Okay, perhaps not all of them.
"Where the hell did these come from?"
"A parting present from Irving, I believe." Wesker snarled. He was hurriedly reloading. He was healing slower – the slashes from one particularly murderous Reaper still coated his arms with sluggish crimson. "Economical, yes. Difficult to control, most certainly. They've set up colonies. Las Plagas has gone from a parasite to a symbiote." He aimed and fired – something big and scaly went down. "Cheeky bastard."
"Jealous you didn't get there first?"
"Be quiet, Chris."
They pulled back another two junctions into a part of the complex that had not been on their route the first time around. It seemed absurd to be working together, but the Reapers weren't picky as to who they fought; and technically it was Chris' fault for running into the dark, ignoring Wesker's snarls to stop. Now all of them were running, or at least trying to run – Wesker in the lead and sure-footed, Sheva bringing up the rear and shooting far better than the injured Greg. Chris was just waiting for an excuse to shoot Wesker in the kidneys.
Avoiding the worst of the mess, the little group made their way past broken hives and twisted bodies. It was hard to see, most of the power had been cut with light only supplied from the exit signs, but for some reason – probably viral – Wesker never put a foot wrong.
One such fire exit sign caught Chris' eye. Wesker was making for it.
Opening the door hurriedly, he raised his gun again and shot into the flickering dark. "Hurry. Down to level three."
"What's on level three?"
Wesker didn't answer. The Reapers just shrieked and wailed, coming closer.
Sheva leapt down the steps – clean steps, this place hadn't been touched yet – and Chris clattered down after her. He turned, hearing Greg's wordless yelp, the youth grabbing Wesker and pulling him back through the door right before the Reapers slammed into it.
Did he imagine the look between the two of them?
"Go. Go."
oOo
"It's beautiful." Sarton whispered, knowing his every word was being broadcasted. The creature pumped its wings hard to get into the sky, climbing into the thunderheads. "I want it."
"You and everyone else." Kendra's voice crackled. "Fall back."
"Why?"
"The signal, remember. Keep in mind the specific abilities of the subject – it's still transmitting."
Sarton tried to remember. It had been years ago, but it came flooding back. "But-"
"You want to fall out of the sky?"
He went to answer but his words were snatched away from him by a colossal roll of thunder as his sight was ripped from him in the blast of white. Not just thunder. It was accompanied by a horrible hissing, whooshing noise. Fire. Lightning – manufactured lightning – burned itself into his retinas as it tumbled down. Caught in its path, following the creature that sourced it, the plagas-controlled monsters were fried in the resulting fireball.
Ashes turned to a mucky paste over the windshield.
Sarton was only vaguely aware of how close he'd come to filling his pants. "Wow."
Steam swam around the attacker. Hanging in space, hovering on its dual-set wings, the new mutation hung in space, contemplating the helicopters beneath it. Electricity arced around the extremities of its tentacles, earthed itself in those spindly talons.
"What's it doing?" Came the question at the back.
He could almost hear Kendra grating her teeth. "Planning its next attack."
"But it shouldn't have this kind of intelligence, none of the test subjects bar the Queens have higher reasoning beyond finding suitable hosts-" Sarton sank into a coughing fit as the ash found its way into the cockpit. The helicopter moved back, trying to find where the wind was to clear the way.
"That's what they said about Marcus." Sarton was very glad he couldn't see Kendra's face. Her voice said too much.
The creature folded its wings and dived towards them.
oOo
The door opened with a hiss. Labs upon labs. They ran through them, following him blindly.
He didn't like that. But then Chris had never been one to question things until it was too late. The labs gave him no safety, and certainly no peace. Wesker took a hard right, hands out to stop himself crashing into a benchtop as he sprinted to the next door.
"Slow down!"
"No."
"What?"
"The pair of you being here with the boy makes things difficult and complicated." Ah, the door he was looking for. Wesker told himself he wasn't panicking. Because he wasn't. No. A couple of careful applications of pressure and the door came free. "You shouldn't be here. Nobody should be here. And yet for some reason you're the third BSAA team to come knocking on my door."
Sheva glared at him. "Well excuse us for disturbing you."
Wesker peered out into the gloom, and then poked his head back in. "Chris? Keep this one. I like her."
"What?"
Greg burst into giggles, and Chris just stared, mouth open. "Excuse me?"
"No." He was so infuriating. "To answer your next, inevitable questions while we still have time, the previous teams are dead. They were in here before I knew, there was no time to intervene." A pause. Something up ahead clattered, but stopped clattering when it realized it was being watched. "I suppose they had to send you two…" He spoke to reassure them. It – whatever it was, with each generation the Reapers became stranger and stranger - left trails of light in the gloom. He could just see them if he concentrated, trails of blue fire. It made him feel sick, sicker than sick – Progenitor swirling in his veins and screaming in panic – but there it was. Those last few pieces of her legacy. Stop. You've dwelled on that enough. Let go. Every bullet hit. The creature went down.
Wesker licked his lips, pleased for the dark. "You were sent to retrieve something, I gather. I never thought that I would be on the receiving end of one of these treasure hunts, but there we go."
"We're….we're not…" A pause. Realization dawned in those eyes. "Wait…"
He didn't have time for this. Wesker trotted down the stairs, wishing for the emergency lighting to come back on, but the generators were long since dead. His senses – thought beaten into submission a long time ago – were flooding back. Smell for one. Hearing. Even, despite the gloom, sight. Touch. Minute vibrations of something new slithering ahead. Awakening to his need to survive.
The worst part was the voices. The distant, insistent voices.
He felt nauseous. He'd do anything for a shot right now of serum. Anything at all. Just make it stop. Even some of Excella's batch, despite the consequences. The same consequences that were slowing him down, making him slow, making him stupid.
He was also starting to see that bloody man again out of the corner of his eye. Hallucinating for sure, but the outline of those six red eyes followed him in the gloom, until he tried to look. Tried to find the figure. And then he was gone…
Turning to face the agents, framed like heroes in the half-light of the exit sign, Wesker shrugged. "You were sent to retrieve data, weren't you? Well here we are." He raised his hands in a flourish, mock-bowing. "Welcome to the cut-throat world of pharmaceuticals."
oOo
They had to move quickly. The creature plunged past them and pulled up, just at the last minute, flying beneath them. It knew no match in the air at this point, but that could change with the right weapons. Jill squeezed her restraints in frustration. Just give her a gun. Give her anything. She could take it down.
Through the windows, Maram was watching it, face lit up in wonder.
"That cannot hit the black market." She muttered at last, and was thankfully ignored. He scooted back to his seat, licking his lips nervously.
"It won't."
The 'copter lurched, then started to lose altitude. A brief glimpse of the horizon showed the facility as a smear against the darkening sky, the pilot fighting the turbulence. The beast had cleared the way, but the second wave of Kipepeo were pouring out of the ventilation system. Jill craned her neck to watch the mercenaries assemble their weapons.
It wove between them, minute twitches of its wings as it rode the air currents, an ugly, twisted, serpent. Those fiery eyes left trails as it moved, lines of crimson forming down it's skin again as it made another pass.
"What the hell is it doing?"
"Testing us." Maram answered.
She blinked. "Testing us? Testing us how?" A pause. "How do you know?"
"I-"
Talons raked the underside of their helicopter, making it bounce a little. Someone shrieked, and the pilot started to swear, dropping the machine faster. All Jill could see was the massive H of the landing pad and the TriCell logo. The creature howled.
But the pilot was skilled, regaining control. The helicopter didn't fall from the sky, but did skid once it hit the tarmac, leaving a trail of sparks as the engines shrieked. It was just in time; the other two landed in the quadrant, rocking as the beast tried to land with them, but twisted away at the last minute. The blades proved too much of a danger.
Jill felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
"Heads up!"
The air was filled with chittering and hissing as another swarm of Kipepeo spiraled out of the facility to meet them.
"Don't open the doors, don't open the doors!" Howls from Sarton. The second helicopter came down. The little creatures were ignoring the big one and were launching themselves at the rotors. The air rained in bits and wet splashes. "Arm up, get ready!"
"Shut up!" Came the howl back.
The third helicopter landed.
"Do not go outside!"
Someone didn't listen. The panic button had been hit, and Jill watched in horror as one of the sliding doors was opened – just across from her, there were still showers of sparks from rotor blades almost clashing were it not for the caution of the pilots – and someone got out. Two people actually. Then a third. They raced towards the doors, one of them falling and having the swarm descend on them…Jill turned away. Yells of joy as the they reached the door, cheering-
Oh, no.
The shadow fell over them and with a crack, Jill found her sight and hearing gone, momentarily disturbed by light and a roar from the localized lightning strike. It took her breath away, almost knocking her fragile sanity loose.
Magnified, over and over by who knew what in the creature's bloodstream, what had been two human beings were charred stumps in boots and smoking slag. Kipepeo ash coated the area again, and moans of pain and fright were all around her, as slowly, oh so slowly, she recovered.
The beast threw back its head and shrieked.
The doors opened, and everyone filtered out, gingerly, bleeding from their noses and eyes, the fragile vessels injured by the sudden pressure. Jill found herself manhandled down the ramp, Maram with her.
Overhead the creature circled, then darted away.
"That is the ugliest guardian angel I've ever seen." She muttered, from the safety of Maram's arms.
"Someone get a bird in the air, I need Alpha and Bravo team to descend to labs 42 and 21." Crackling over their headsets. "Samples may still be viable, provided poachers haven't cleaned it out completely. Shoot anything that moves. "
Jill wracked her brains. She couldn't remember a lab 42. Lab 21 had those creepy flowers in it. But lab 42…
They were moving again, a tight group bristling with guns.
Lab 42…Lab 42…
The ship.
Heart pounding in shock, Jill didn't notice the drop in air temperature, or the cries of those around her, too busy trying to cover her mouth, too busy trying to forget what had happened here. Something swept over the group, almost knocking people to the ground. Individuals broke out into a run, into the side alleys and pathways which were far more direct.
Behind them, one of the helicopters was starting up again.
Jill turned.
The new mutation pulled up and she heard it clatter over the buildings as it tried to land. The clattering became louder as it found stone and pulled itself up, gleaming-dark and mottled browns in what was left of the sunlight. It stared at her, right at her. Through her.
Six crimson eyes, glowing in the dark. And then it was gone.
SEPTEMBER 9TH, 1998
"I don't need you."
She heard those words a lot on the good days. Left him to it as he muddled along. On the bad days – bad days like this one - she held her ground and in turn held his as he struggled with whatever had been let loose inside his body. She felt the fear and the pain. She understood it, and soothed it, as she wished someone had done, back then in the depths of Arklay. But then she'd not been alone. There had been people there. It had helped, somehow.
She tried not to think about where they were now, her friends, if they could still be called that. If they had gotten away. If they were okay. Her world dissolved into a few streets and a little apartment and the man with the same eyes as hers, keening on the bathroom floor.
Evelyn turned on the water and held him as the warmth rushed down, soothed him. Whispers through gritted teeth as he shivered and shook through his anti-fever. "I don't need you."
His thoughts were moths, fluttering against a backdrop of growing noise as it spread, lines of psychic crimson, the hellish roots of a parasite spreading through Raccoon City. Evelyn had her defenses. He had none. So he clung to her. Said foul things. Terrible things. Threats. Bribes. All of it, she ignored.
"Just. Just let me go."
(Please. Please.)
His hands, holding onto her for a moment too long. A space shared too intimately for strangers. This was the voice she listened to.
(Please don't leave me.)
oOo
The echoes followed them no matter where they went. The last lives and minds of Raccoon, too distant to hear, too distant to understand, but watching, always watching, not knowing they were dead and dust, spread to the winds.
There were more of them, more of her.
Manufactured, of course, taken from samples stolen while she lay on the table. He tried not to think of them as her daughters, but it's difficult to shake that thought. What Spencer wanted with them, Wesker didn't want to know. They were called Queens – subtle in their control of basic BOWs. Nothing marketable quite yet – but each of them were savage beauties, handpicked from the stables of careful breeding the company seemed to do.
Oddly enough, he preferred the original. He just never said it. Certainly never told her. There was trouble enough as she tried to return to the outside world, desperate to be normal again.
It didn't work out.
Wesker told himself he wasn't glad of that. That being saddled with someone like Evelyn was a pain in the ass. But really, there was no better place to keep an eye on her. He was just protecting his assets, after all.
oOo
"Don't fall in love with him."
She looked up from her studies, face pale. Marcus didn't pay her any more attention, still writing away on the board. The equations and formula flickered as he moved the stylus over the screen, every piece of data collected and recorded onto the computers far away from them, outside his cell. "I'm not."
Umbrella would never waste a mind like that, despite the now curious forms the man could take. His cell was spacious, well lit at all times. Glass walls except for a paper screen for privacy when it came to using the amenities. The whole cell was suspended above a chlorinated salt pool; Marcus was going nowhere and fast, but while they could lock up his physical form, his mind was as free as the world outside.
Evelyn did not come down to visit him out of friendship. She preferred to call it respect, but most of the time he only wound her up. Probably on purpose.
"You have returned to Umbrella, and you feed him secrets. You bury your nose in books and try to make up for that poor education of yours in the hope he will take notice. He will not."
It stung. There was no point in lying to him, Marcus could read her easily without even having to look at her. He was good at reading people – something she was desperately trying to catch up on. "Did you ever consider it might be for myself?"
He glanced over his shoulder, silver eyes gleaming. "It had. But your thoughts…wander."
Evelyn snapped the book shut. It was loud enough to make the guard jump. "Of course they're going to bloody wander! I'm, oh…Doctor Marcus!" The last sentence came out as a hiss. She felt embarrassed at the admittance, but it was hard enough as it was without him being horrible about it. "I'm only human. He is quite…" Find the right word. Oh please. Anything. "…attractive." Shit.
"And he will use you up, tire of you and then throw you away." She rolled her eyes, but he continued. "He takes a girl and he showers her with compliments…with gifts. Girls of nobility and wealth. He takes what he wants, and once the chase is done, and he has sown his wild oats, he is done with them."
"I'm a walking biohazard. You don't think I know this? I see it every day working with him! Half the office is smitten!" She got up, storming over to his board and his precious experiments. He didn't stop her as she swiped the stylus from his hand and started to draw over his work in big sweeping strokes. "I. Am. The. First. Of. My. Kind." A big, cartoonish monster leered over them both. She paused then, humiliated. "And the last. I know what's happening. And I'm…I'm not going to make the same mistake twice in a row." Her hand dropped, and she let her shoulders slump. But it was only for a moment. She rallied herself, reigned in her temper.
Again, that nervous tuck of her hair behind her ears. She tried to shoot him a glare, but Marcus…his face was drawn with sadness. It was disarming. "I hope, my little fighter, you are right." With great care he cupped her face and drew her close to him, kissing her forehead. "Because you are worth more than that."
oOo
Antarctica had not been a success. He'd never expected to see Chris, and he certainly hadn't expected to find that Eric and Vincent were more than just capable – they were brilliant. Evelyn's recommendations hadn't been wrong. He just…hadn't expected to bring Veronica back with him.
It didn't do much to men. To women, well.
The ID card was stolen. Maram's business. Man was actually incredibly useful, and Wesker had noted in the practical part of his brain that it was of great importance to keep contact with him. The non-practical part just clawed at the walls and howled.
Marcus sat on his throne of cheap laminate and corduroy, a cup of coffee in hand. Watched him twist up inside. Waited for him to admit it.
"It's my fault."
Marcus smiled. "What have you done?"
"She's dying."
That smile got wider. "…Oh my."
"Help me." He whispered.
"Why?"
God. Wesker closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. It was only for a minute, only a minute of weakness. He tried to block out what he'd seen. He tried not to think how he'd seen all the signs, but ignored them, ignored them because he'd become complacent with her. She'd just. Dropped. Burning up.
His hands shook. It shouldn't be having this affect on him, but he felt like he was made of broken glass. Wesker swallowed, trying to regain control. Trying to face Marcus, but the bastard said nothing, just watched
"Hurts, doesn't it." Marcus said at last, and slid off his chair, so surprisingly human and yet not. "All those brains. All that posturing swagger. Can't save a life."
Wesker stared at him, eyes narrowed with hate.
Marcus leaned into him, grinning as he flinched at the contact. His skin was cool, dry, but with the same infernal heat that powered them all. Wesker allowed himself to be drawn close, the touch almost…intimate…as Marcus examined his face, silver eyes half-lidded in the expression of thought that the younger man remembered from years gone by in the labs. Marcus turned his head to the side roughly, Wesker biting down a cry of pain, and then shuddering as Marcus licked the inner shell of his ear. The whisper was soft. Sullen.
"You can't save her." A brief, awful squeeze. Companionship from long, long ago, dead and buried in the basements of Arklay. "But I can. For a price, of course."
oOo
Hot and cold. Cold and hot. He changed his mind faster than a child in a candy store. Were it not because she needed him, Evelyn would have walked out. But Veronica compelled her to stay, lodged deep into her genes and forcing her onwards.
Months, it had taken. Months to get over it. To find strength again. The scars would possibly never heal, but it was backed into a corner – and should it get out, Eric and Vincent would fight it back. She bit her lip, noticeably distressed, and closed her eyes when he touched her face, the caress tender and warm.
"Evolution, child, is never easy."
She'd gotten used to him saying that now. Calling her a child. Marcus didn't understand the concept of personal space, but he was engaging, and was, at that time, trying to teach her chess. They sat across a little table from each other, and fresh coffee steamed from the mugs beside them. Marcus was doing his best to impart his wisdom, but it wasn't working out so well. She wasn't the only player, either. Maram was spending more and more time down here of late.
Under the watchful eyes of the guards, she continued to try and win the game. Beneath the table there was a pin-prick which made her swallow hard. Chemicals swam in her bloodstream; he read her without needing the machines now, and gave her what she needed.
"You keep fighting the impulses?"
"They're not mine."
"Will-power is your ally. Adaptability your sword." Marcus shifted the pieces of the board with a grace unmatched, her own attempts to catch his pieces clumsy and childish. "I have heard rumours that the other Queens are not faring so well. Eventually the change will come to you."
"…Does it hurt?"
"I do not know. You have evolved down a different branch to me, otherwise I would be compelled to destroy you. Only one queen in a hive, my little soldier."
Evelyn nodded, her thoughts private. But I'm not a queen. Her blood burned. I'm a pawn.
"Do you hear it? Do you hear him?"
The question came out of nowhere, and her hand hovered over the board, a knight in hand. Marcus spoke of her angel. The six-eyed man. She knew it as she knew her own reflection. "No."
He leaned close, an intimate whisper in her ear. "You need to learn to lie, Evelyn."
oOo
He left the gerbera on her desk again, in passing. She didn't look up. She didn't have to.
He knew that the whispers had already started, but they were ones of confusion. He told himself he valued her for her enthusiasm and sheer bloodymindedness, but that was only to defend his ego. It didn't help that he knew it was all lies.
Pushing her away had been the only option in his mind, but she seemed to see through all of that. He didn't deserve such patience. He didn't deserve such honesty. But there it was. And he didn't know how to deal with that except to want to protect it quite fiercely.
Ada laughed about all of this until he could feel the tips of his ears go pink. None of his behavioral training could stop it, and that was embarrassing.
"You're in love." Ada teased.
His answer was stoic silence, which told her all she needed to know, so he didn't pay her for the next job she worked for him.
That did not go down well at all.
oOo
She was getting tired of picking up after his lovers. She tried not to judge them for their fancy shoes and fancier dresses, their fancy suits, exquisite in almost all their ways except the obvious, crying and shaking on his carpet after the inevitable break up once they were used up. Albert Wesker got everything he wanted, Evelyn knew. She didn't exactly factor into this apart from knowing what lay beyond those dark glasses, and knowing why each person was targeted. To say she was taking solace that she was the only one not being used – not exactly – was taking it lightly.
The bitterness was hard to swallow.
May 16th. 2000. He'd wrecked the bed again. She wasn't paid enough to be his maid, and he sat there like the cat who'd got the cream, flawless, and her hating him for it. "Just let me go."
"No. Why?"
"Because I'm sick of these games."
Wesker looked to the floor of his apartment, how he'd not bothered to even hide last night's activities. The shower was still going, an off-key voice singing. Last night's conquest. Evelyn watched him from the doorway. She seemed thinner now. Haunted. He hated that. Blamed himself, but didn't know what else to do. If he held her too long he'd break her, just like he'd broken all the good things in his life.
"They're not games."
"Then what are they? You only need me for what's inside me. And now that's useless too."
"Veronica only increased your abilities."
"I can control BOWs. So what? I can't do it under stress. All I can do is sing them to sleep. The others-"
"-Were built from your DNA. We discussed this. Spencer wanted to replicate you. He used what he could from the samples taken while you were trapped in Raccoon." Wesker's head hurt. He didn't want this now. Not ever. "Evelyn-"
"Please." Her voice was thick. Her eyes shone. Why did she have to be so damn fragile? "You have your serum. You don't need me anymore."
"Then what's keeping you here?" He stood up, quickly, grabbing her before she could get away. Pressing her up against the wall so that they were belly to belly, twisting her wrists above her head. She didn't cry out with pain; just bit her lip, grinding against him. Distraction or threat? He wasn't sure. "You're a pain."
"Unhand me."
"No."
He narrowly missed having a four-inch kitten-heel dug into his toes as she struggled, hissing. "Petulant child."
"I don't want the serum, Evelyn."
The air was suddenly hot and damp. Loud with rushing water.
Nose to nose. Her eyes were wide, but her gaze fierce. Threatening. A little Queen. So similar to Marcus he almost wanted to laugh. She opened her mouth to speak, and he saw his chance, kissing her hard, half expecting her to bite off his tongue.
The kiss was returned.
Wesker ignored the pained gasp behind him, and let Evelyn go. A hiss, by her ear. "I want you." She tottered a little, off balance, wiping her mouth, copper eyes narrowed.
Wesker smirked as she stalked away. And then kicked himself internally because it was a dick move, and he knew it. Bollocks.
Another sob, at his side. Ugh. He'd forgotten. Eyes narrowed, he got up, stooped to pick up the clothing and threw it at the woman who stood there, bedraggled and possibly ashamed. Or just hurt. Wesker had stopped caring. "Be quick and get out."
August 10th, 2001
The dances were careful - he couldn't spook the buyers, he couldn't spook the sellers. Everything had to be careful, everything had to be…perfect. It was only a matter of time before he met with TriCell. Difficult to deal with. They'd asked to meet at a charity ball, and as a rule Wesker tried to avoid them. Tonight was no different, except he'd not put up that much of a fight.
"Be gentle with her."
The evening was too hot by far, his suit sticking to him. They were out on one of the balconies overlooking the massive gardens of the mansion, him leaning against the cold stone, her with her back to it, perched on the railing. Wesker downed his water quickly, watching Evelyn out of the corner of his eye. "Excuse me?"
Evelyn gave him a gentle smile and inclined her head to one of the doors further down the long expanse of creamy tiles, rambling jasmine and floor to ceiling glass windows. Peeping at them from one of the open French doors, fingers wrapped around the curtain, the offspring of one of the heads ducked back into hiding.
Wesker scowled. "Her parents need to keep her under control."
"Another child genius, apparently." Evelyn murmured, before sipping on her drink. The look she gave him made him flush. "But was watching us the entire time."
"She wasn't watching us."
"I know. She was watching you. They seem to start them off early, here."
Resisting the urge to throw his glass off the balcony and into the garden below, Wesker ran his free hand through his hair. "Why?"
"Because you're a better candidate than these ill-educated science types who are hanging off anything they can get their hands on." Evelyn uncoiled herself, whispering silk and lace as she moved and leaned into him, shoulder to shoulder, pressing her face against his jacket.
"Go away." He muttered. "You are far too warm."
"You're the one in the stuffy jacket. Just one dance with her."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I didn't come here to dance."
"Mmhm." Evelyn answered, mouth still pressed against his shoulder, eyes bright. He wished she didn't have to wear contacts. He wished they both didn't have to wear contacts. They were so itchy. "You came to plot."
He leaned close, voice a low hiss, lips framing a kiss that never came. "And you came to bother me."
"Ah, but that's my job. Make her night. She's just a kid."
Wesker went to reply, but stopped. He leaned close and licked her forehead. "You owe me." He muttered, and then withdrew, ignoring the light tap of disgust at his arm.
The girl was back, tiny and frail and dressed up far too old for her scant years. She looked like she would faint as he approached, looking from him to Evelyn as he approached. Evelyn wasn't too far away either, winding her arms gently around his and smiling at the scowling girl. "Take care of him for me, okay? I just need to go and freshen up."
Excella Gionne looked like she was about to explode with glee.
JULY 19th 2004
The Organization wasn't happy with him.
This had to be the work of one of the minor executives. The team had been sent to his current base of operations to lie in wait for them, but they thought they were waiting for a former Umbrella researcher. They were not expecting Wesker to be a functioning biological weapon – nor that he'd brought a friend.
The office was ruined. Damn it, Ada. So she was selling him out now too, was she? Typical. Stealing his research wasn't enough, she had to put him on a silver platter for the Organization, too…
There was nothing he could do to stop the shaking of his limbs. The moment of rage had passed, leaving adrenaline in its wake. The enemy was vanquished and security his own once more, but it had come at a price. Evelyn hadn't seen combat for a while. Not that it mattered – she'd been just as ruthless – but she lacked the self-righteous aftermath. Spattered with blood she stared at her hands, having thrown away the magnum she'd pulled off of one of the more incompetent attackers. The shiver that passed over her was quick, but violent.
Wesker holstered the Edge, offering an arm and wrapping her into him as tight as he could. She only came up to his chest, head bowed and trying not to sob. She knew he hated to see her cry. What it meant. Weakness. Awful, awful weakness. And he hated himself for what he'd taught her. "Shh. Shh."
They weren't ready for this yet. He hadn't completed his plan. And the flight tomorrow-!
He took off his gloves, and traced a thumb down the side of her cheek, as she looked up at him. Terror in her eyes. Questions. Questions he didn't know how to answer without hurting her. The walls she'd built to protect them both from the hive mind were creaking dangerously, but he watched her pull herself back together again, swallow the fear down. Pride fluttered in the shell he called a heart, despite her shivers.
I hate what you've done to me. He kissed her forehead, lips lingering for a moment as he breathed in her scent. She stilled, tilting her face up and he waited to feel the answering kiss at his throat, tender and so sweet. But don't ever stop.
"Al?" She breathed, tiny and soft. His fingers ghosted down her arms to her waist, rested there. Lovers amidst carnage. "Al, what is happening?"
"It would seem my latest employer is displeased with me."
"Oh Al. Please tell me they at least started it."
Wesker smirked. "Perhaps." She tapped his arm with the back of her hand in mock disgust, and he gripped her until she squeaked. "I have not been entirely honest with you, EJ. It would seem we're being hunted, you and I. And while I have an alibi or two, with only Umbrella having listed me as being deceased…"
Her face fell.
Closing his eyes, leaning into her, Wesker listened for anything else that could be coming. The anger was manageable now, at least. " I have done my best to build you the basis of an identity here and you've done what you could to fill in the gaps…but it's still a fake. And pushed too hard, they can find you…Exploit…you."
"I could run." Evelyn mumbled into his chest.
"They would find you." He drew away. "I have done things that would make you weep. Things that would make you despise me."
"I already do." She jammed her hands in the pockets of her little leather jacket and stalked past him. The look he got was typically wifely-anger. "I'm not an idiot. I know what you get up to, dear." She paused by the door, studying him, sniffing slightly. Calming. Trusting.
Despite the body count around them, he wanted to fuck her. He needed to have her scream his name – he couldn't relax until she was beneath him, safe in his bed. Forgiving him. But he'd never needed forgiveness until now.
"Even if I destro-" The air between them sizzled. Wesker's words disappeared as she winked out and reappeared in front of him, fingers entangled in his shirt, pulling him down with a force he could not fight.
Evelyn stole the kiss. A painful kiss, her teeth nicking his flesh, and when they parted, blood beaded on his lips – he wasn't sure if it was his or hers. He didn't care, quickly and neatly he lapped it up, pressed close and felt glee when she let him kiss her again.
Veronica rose, starved for contact. Aching, they pulled apart.
"You're starting to sound sentimental, Al. Stupidly sentimental. And that's not you. I don't want a confession. I don't want to even talk while we have…" A useless hand wave at the world. "company. Damn it, Albert." He growled, deep in his throat. "I'm scared for you. I'm scared for me. I understand you have all of this wrapped up in a neat bow but stop bringing your work home with you."
"Can't help it."
She moved with lightning swiftness, but it wasn't a slap, it was the lightest of taps with the back of her hand. "Then what are we going to do?"
Wesker closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. "How can you say that so easily?"
A vicious poke at his belly that made him jerk back. "Why do you think?"
Damn her. Damn her, damn her, damn her. He slid his sunglasses back on, gathering himself together. "Fine. Fine. I have a safe house in Italy. You will be safe there. Protected." She shook her head, but he continued. "I will drop by, when I can."
"I won't be kept!"
"You will be if you want to be safe. I want you to be safe." A shrug. He knew she hated it when he did that, but he could see her starting to waiver. "I can then concentrate on doing the task at hand, knowing you're not going to be pulled into one Anaru's little antics. Do I need to remind you of Terragrigia?"
"He was on holiday, Al."
"I don't care. Show him a BOW and all he wants to do is fight it. He's lucky he made it out of there alive. Partially drowned, yes, but alive. Ugh. EJ." Wesker smoothed his hair back, buying himself time. The sunglasses were useless because she could read him so well. She loved it when he was flustered. Cow. "But. All of this is useless if I do not pull off this job and get the Organization where I need it to be."
"Is that your request for me to be good?"
He glared at her over the rim of his sunglasses. Pointed to the door.
No alarms had been raised by the night watchman. They got to the car untouched, Evelyn at the wheel. He needed time to think. A week maybe, at most, down in South America. If the rumours of the Veronica plant were true, he'd have to put it down. Come back. Ship out to Italy again. He knew just the place. Knew what to send. Just a week. She'd be safe for just a week at the docklands safehouse.
Wesker considered asking her to pack as soon as possible. No point in delaying it. His own gear, come to think of it. But first, serum. Then bed. He needed her, body alight despite the outer demeanor of cold. Her pulse was loud in his ears, her desire plain with those snatched glances, chewing of her lip. The way she handled the stick.
This would be their last night for a little while. He shut up that momentary flicker of despair and placed it somewhere safe so he could concentrate on the now and what was important. No plans, no manipulation, no Organization, no Umbrella, just himself and his queen.
In the morning he would not remove his sunglasses. They were on the moment he was up. He needed their darkness, their sanctuary. No tearful goodbyes when they left the place. When they reached the airport. Waiting in the terminal.
Just a tender kiss on the cheek, her arms around his shoulders. A moment he could savour, his own secret – Make me feel safe, little woman. Make me feel that my world is worth fighting for.
The last he saw of her was a little wave as he went through the Gate.
But after that, Albert Wesker never saw Evelyn Jackson again.
oOo
She opened her eyes slowly, painfully. Smell assaulted her. Staleness. Medication. Urine. A man on the verge of death, but not quite there. The medical machines hissed softly as he moved, cocking his head to the side and staring at her. He smiled, a kindly smile. His words, however, were not so kind.
"You will repay my boy's debts. That's one of the laws of marriage isn't it? Looking after each other's assets? You should have signed a pre-nup, my little lady."
The world span.
The lights went up.
The control collar flooded her system with static while she staggered into the first arena. All she could hear was the roar around her of those watching – those preparing to buy. A brief moment of feeling Marcus, and then he was gone. Silenced, as she was.
"First lot; one of the many biological weapons we have for sale today. I open the bidding at thirty thousand…"
APRIL 2ND 2005 WILPHARMA AIR DOME, HARVARDVILLE
Her buyer's name was Downing.
He was not kind. In the beginning, yes. Introducing her to WilPharma. Showing her all the beautiful things they planned to do, what they were doing across the world – India especially. But Evelyn could smell out what really lay beneath the surface. She didn't fight, but of information, she offered nothing. No secrets could be found inside or out; Progenitor in its perfect prison.
Downing was not patient.
"Give it to me." A whisper in her ear. Around her neck the bandages were still clean, signs that at long last the limiter was being accepted by her body, stealing her ability to sing, speak with the hive mind. His fingers lingered, tracing patterns across her bare skin, meeting the tattoo at her back, between her hips.
Evelyn shook her head. Out of the corner of her eye, the six-eyed man watches.
"Just a taste." The light caught his glasses, hiding his gaze from view. He was contemplating reaching for the serum on the table, she could tell. Evelyn bit down nausea. She couldn't take another dose. Not now. "It's not right to keep it to yourself."
Another shake of her head.
The feathers rustle. One by one the eyes go out.
"Why?" He touched her face. Those fingers had touched so much of late, but she couldn't cry any more. There was little left of anything except the beast inside her now, the beast Marcus had created. Downing traced lower. Neck. Shoulders. The curve of her breasts. "One day you'll tell me, Mother-Monster."
It was the last night she was treated as something vaguely human.
oOo
He can't find her.
There's a piece of him missing, and he's not quite right.
[Where are you?] Silent cries to a network he'd tried to deny. In the end TriCell were the only ones he could walk to. Skulk to. Maram went with him.
Jill is a distraction. A reminder of the past.
[Where are you?]
Deeper he delved. For Wesker, that was a mistake. He felt them. All of them. The Queens, spread to the four winds. Adapting, changing. He heard whispers of Alexia. Whispers of Birkin.
The clincher was when Eric found him, one afternoon, knee deep in research and trying to forget. An envelope. A picture.
A woman's bloodied back, a tattoo.
Understanding.
The world doesn't deserve to be saved.
oOo
"What are you going to call it?" The voice whispered in his ear, hands at his back. She'd been in his quarters again. He knew it. Almost everything had been moved down to the shed by now; he used the excuse of needing to think in order to escape those hands and the lack of personal space. Her jewelry jingled unpleasantly. "I've never seen anything like it, Albert."
The new virus danced on the screen in front of them. Perfectly. Too perfectly.
Memories of a woman in a black dress and a mischievous smile.
Excella leaned into him, her breasts pushing against his shoulder. She didn't have to be so vulgar, but then that was how she did things.
If he concentrated, he could remember her laugh.
"Come on…"
His gaze fell to the frame beside his computer. The reminder Downing had left him. A warning. What little good it had done.
He'd been too late.
Maybe Evelyn would have lived.
Maybe.
Maybe he wouldn't have lost Eric.
Maybe.
Vincent.
Maybe.
All of them.
Evelyn laughed in his memories, his pillow in her hands, hitting him, get up, get up you fool, I love you. Seize the day or I shall seize it for you.
Oh, God.
The Celtic snake wound in on itself, biting its tail.
"Albert?"
A world this wrong needed to be scrubbed clean.
"Ouroboros." Wesker said softly, feeling the last part of him break. "The project's name is Ouroboros."
Across the hive mind connection, seven billion voices cried out in agony.
PRESENT DAY
They were like children, clutching onto shirt tails or voices in the dark, but Wesker led them straight and true. It was a decidedly easier maze than the last one they'd been in, bypassing the ruins completely, but there were still labs to cross, still unholy creatures that needed to be put down. They were becoming less and less, but more worryingly were those that couldn't escape.
Hurried battles with things that grew out of walls, trapped by their roots. Beasts stuck in rooms with doors too small, howling as they tried to claw their way out. Parasites and moulds growing and changing on the dead flesh of creatures long since turned to mush.
All seem preoccupied. Except for the Reapers – the warrior caste, protecting the hive – everything just wanted to get out.
"They're being called." Wesker said at last. It was another five minute breather – Greg needed his dressings changed, water had to be drank and Sheva was desperate for the bathroom. He pointed her in the right direction, but stayed close to the floor, crouched down, back straight against the cool metal.
Close to the surface now. He told himself. Maybe once they got out he could at last be left alone.
Probably not, though. He roused himself painfully, trying to ignore the ache inside, the desire to sleep. The remains of Ourboros twisted violently inside him and Wesker bent his head to his knees, breathing heavily as he shook. Chris kept staring. He wanted to talk. Goddamnit, he was going to talk.
Bollocks.
"I dropped you in lava."
"I crawled back out."
"Don't you know how to die?"
"Obviously not, which is just as bad." The pain subsided as the cramps evened out. Wesker cracked his shoulders, popping the bones in his neck. Without his usual armour of black, Chris could see the faint traces of crimson flaring across his skin, chasing his former captain's veins. It was both disturbing and beautiful, and Wesker only grew more agitated at the attention he was getting. "Stop staring, Chris. Please do something useful - what's your ammunition like?"
"Why does it matter? Are you going to have another fight out with me and Sheva?"
"Sheva and I." Wesker corrected him. Chris just snorted. "And no. I think Sheva knows why she's here and she'll do what she needs to do. In the mean time, your stocks."
"Piss off."
"I have a couple of clips." Piped up Greg.
"For fuck's sake, Greg, don't tell him!" Chris kicked at the wall, his answer a growl at the back of his throat. "Goddamnit Wesker, why the hell are you doing this? What are you playing at? Why aren't you dead?"
"I told you, I don't know."
"Wrong answer!"
"What answer would you prefer, Chris?" Wesker snarled back. "You think I enjoy this existence?"
"You're here, aren't you?" Wild gestures, Greg shying away as Chris loomed over his former captain, eyes narrowed in fury. "Destroying lives, destroying people, destroying-"
Wesker looked aside, just for a second, and Chris realized he had his gun raised.
It was precisely the wrong time for Sheva to come back, still wiping her hands on her jeans.
"…You're not going to believe this, but the ladies are clean." A pause, suspicion. "Okay, what happened?"
Shifting his weight, Chris looked away. She couldn't see all that well in the dark, but the movement was still noticed. Wesker intervened, voice softening as he watched Chris. "Planning ahead."
"Uh-huh." Sheva folded her arms, frowning. "Not that there's much to plan since this place is practically deserted, and we have no idea where you're taking us."
"Outside, preferably. Why you came in I don't know. Except to wonder what you're looking for, Ms Alomar…" Her name was strange sort of sigh from his lips.
She stalked towards him, and Chris stiffened, remembering Wesker's hands around her neck only a few weeks before. But she stared him down. Wesker merely looked up at her, head cocked to the side like a naughty child who was not sorry at all. Sheva took her gun out of the holster, and pressed it against Wesker's cheek; the pressure was enough to make him turn, expose his throat to her. It was an odd gesture of submission, and the rest of the room waited to see what might happen.
It had been a long time since a woman had been in control for Wesker. The gunmetal was cold against his cheek. Sensual, despite its hardness. It wasn't Sheva standing over him, in his mind's eye it was someone else, and he fought the urge to take the barrel into his mouth. It was the wrong time to think of power games and sex; his body decided to cramp again. "Well?" He hissed through gritted teeth.
"I'm not a patient woman."
"Sheva!"
"It's okay, Greg." Wesker stood slowly, willing the pain down, so close he could feel her warmth. He looked down at her, face shadowed, and eyes glowing. "There's nothing here. Not anymore. This facility has been cleaned out – the only items left are the creatures that are being killed outside, and myself. What are you looking for?"
"It certainly isn't you."
"Excellent." Wesker muttered, tiredly. "So why were the queens deployed? Did your employers not know how dangerous that was?"
"…Queens?"
Wesker stared at them, moving from face to face, trying to tell if they were lying or not. Greg, at last, shook his head, and in the dark, Wesker went pale. He was almost thankful he couldn't be seen. "You mean to tell me you don't know what they are? And you are out here? In this?"
There was a distant rumble of thunder, but no words.
He turned away. Loaded up again. "We move, and we move now."
"The hell we are, answer us-"
"The monsoon is going to break, and we will all drown. I have set several chemical bombs in the facility to bleach the area, so nothing gets out. This will include us, if we do not move. I certainly don't care about my fate, but I would like to see Greg get out."
Chris and Sheva looked to each other. Wesker was already out the door, Greg at his heels.
He called over his shoulder. "They are the cleanup crew. They are the ones with the…the Wesker virus…that failed. I am not even sure if it is my virus, actually." The stairs rattled as he climbed, wishing very much so he could just…dart ahead. Leave them be. Greg would fight. Greg was distressingly nice. "They can stop pretty much anything. There are three circling the area; but this place has been raised by so many scavengers, I don't know what's left." A pause. "Sheva? What are you here for? It's empty"
She chewed her lip.
"Empty." Wesker repeated. But his thoughts were already starting to move together. Why had the groups come down here? What were they looking for? Why? Excella had been a financier of the BSAA. Irving had been selling information-
Irving.
The name rolled in his mind, banging like war drums.
The Queens were only ever deployed in an emergency. They hadn't even been dispatched to Terragrigia, and Wesker remembered how Eric had kicked off when he'd been denied access…so why now? Why here? What had been sold?
An emergency.
Seven billion cries of agony.
Veronica. G.
His blood bubbled.
An emergency. But Ourboros was gone.
Right?
Except for the random fragments still inside of him, it was gone, ashes, dust-
Emergency.
Screaming.
His eyes went wide, his body cold. The ship.
The lab on the ship. He stumbled, but caught himself just at the last minute, horrified.
Irving!
oOo
"Hostile has been sighted."
Not the words she wanted to hear. Kendra gritted her teeth, her hands closing tightly around the radio. The rule of thumb was that she should never enter conflict, even with as much back up as she had – the teams were spreading out quickly now, taking over the ship. Bullets tore at the air, drowned out now and then by the crackle to thunder.
The ship rocked against the docks. Things were tearing loose.
It mustn't enter the water. There were already beasts everywhere, but they were weak, undernourished, chased from the hive. The mercenaries killed them, or the mutation picked them off, one by one. It would leap from the shore back to the ship, climbing onto the buildings and generally…generally being a goddamn nuisance.
"Ma'am."
She ignored the words, focusing on the creature dancing in the air. If she could catch it- could tame it-
No. It didn't work with Birkin. There was no way of controlling Ms Trevor. Once the control mechanisms are removed, there is nothing left of the original personality – it is totally overwritten to survive. A pause. Except…
Could fighting the swarm be considered survival?
Or programming?
Damn you James. Damn you to hell.
"Ma'am!"
Kendra shot the young man a murderous glance. "What? Damn it, I need to think. What is the matter with you?"
"Gunshots inside the facility."
"That's fine."
"But ma'am!"
"It's the active agents of the BSAA." She calmed herself – her ulcer was going to start acting up at this rate. "They shouldn't prove a problem. We are not here for them, and if they do cause issues, we have a back up plan." He followed her gaze to the pale-haired woman clinging to Doctor El-Amin. "She's the weak spot of Redfield's. The other woman will follow Redfield."
"And the BOW?"
Kendra wrinkled her nose. "Gregory will stand down. And please don't call him a BOW." She plucked at a sleeve irritably. "He's just upgraded. Like you would be if you actually did your bloody job."
"Yes ma'am." He scuttled off. She'd found they appreciated a bit of lip, and the fiery nature nurtured in Umbrella's walls had served her well during the transitions from job to job. That was a lie. Technically she was working for a private investor who had simply…sold up shop. She'd just moved with him…
Above her, the creature made another pass, trying to land on the ship. Instead, it landed hard against one of the walls of the bay, screaming in defiance as the black-clad figures changed their positions, raked it with gunfire. The wings flapped as it tried to find its balance, talons digging into a rusted water tower, and the cliff-face. It lashed its tail, and as she watched, the tail split once more, becoming four strands instead of two, what she had originally taken as a set of bony spurs now knives, independent of each other.
Beautiful. I like you better this way.
Shouts from below. She turned, watching a door be flung open and a tumble of people. A smile quirked at her lips, and she managed a girlish laugh.
This was Arklay, all over again. Except now they'd switch places.
The Reapers were gunned down in a hail of bullets, the agents flinging themselves flat, having come to the sacrificial altar without much help, except from the devil himself. Wesker was with them.
She laughed hard.
Oh Oz. Oz, I wish you could see this. He's hilarious.
"Maram?"
"What? What-oh shit. Oh shit."
"Stop swearing." She dove forward, dragging Jill against her. The pale woman struggled, but watched her with intelligence that was too clear. "You've been bad, haven't you."
Maram sighed sadly.
The mercenaries ringed the agents and the former researcher. Lightning crackled overhead. Their eyes met, and Kendra found her smile more forced when she met Wesker's fiery, naked gaze.
"Welcome!" She roared, forcing Jill ahead of her. "So glad you could make it – I was a little concerned, when I got here, I found nobody but the flying snake that's making a mess of things. However…" The grin became girlish. With each step she exposed herself more on the railing above them, one of the overhead walkways that Wesker himself had been using when Excella met her end.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
Kendra didn't care. "Now that we're all here, we can begin."
/To be continued.
Just had to get this up here. Sorry for the lack of quality and...IDK, sense? Goddamnit D: WE ARE SO CLOSE TO THE END. Next chapter/s should be up quickly seeing as they're half-written anyway ;A;