10. An Ordinary Guardian

A man to have grown up in a country of warfare and surrounded by violence, Jake wasn't someone who laughed often. For the longest time, he looked at laughter as a waste of time, a luxury that only the fortunate ones in life had. If he did laugh at all in his twenty one years of life, it was both when he was a boy and his mother would tell him stories before bedtime or when he grew up and drank varieties of liquors with his fellow mercenaries at raunchy and vulgar jokes.

But now was neither of those times for he was no longer the boy that waited eagerly for night to fall so he could listen to his mother and he no longer led the life of a mercenary. He was at a point when he could laugh—actually laugh—at something that didn't either bring him in a state of longing nor drunkenness. Sherry Birkin had the magical gift of making Jake laugh in a status of sobriety and to keep him in the present.

"So, did you listen to the music?" Sherry asked eagerly over the phone, talking into Jake's ear softly after a fit of giggles brought on by some silly joke she had heard on the city bus.

"What music?" he played dumb, hoping to hear that little agitated groan that she made when she got impatient. He laughed freely again when she made the noise he was holding out for.

"You know what music I'm talking about, Jake! Did you like it at all?"

He remained silent, tapping his fingers on the bookshelves of the library, his grey eyes scanning the plentiful books before him that ranged from 18th century romances to gothic horror stories. Sherry called his name again, her voice slightly above a whisper that made him smile.

"Yeah, I liked the music," he finally answered. She sighed at his reply.

"Great! I knew you would. I think you might like this one singer that I just started listening to. He's amazing and super talented. And you know, he's cute so that helps," she mumbled, giggling when she swore she heard Jake scoff.

"Let me guess; tall, dark and handsome, right?"

"Right! Except he has blue eyes," she said. "Though, I think I like grey eyes much more."

Imagining that she was twirling a short strand of blonde hair around her finger, Jake rubbed his growing grin that began to hurt it was so big. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the side of the bookshelf, kicking his shoe into the stone floor and letting his smile show.

"Anyway, his name's Matt Corby* and he's Australian," Sherry told him. "I think you'll like him a little more than the ones I've recommended so far."

"Oh, Australian," Jake grumbled. "I've had enough of Australia lately."

"Huh? I thought you were in Ireland? Did something happen?" she questioned with worry in her voice.

Jake explained that he had been acquainted with an Australian while staying in the Irish mansion. He told her about the woman named Piper and how he had met her the day before, learning that she was part of the Spencer line. Jake did not dislike her nor favored her, he remained neutral. However, he could use a break from the constant chatter the woman produced.

"Hmm," Sherry hummed on the other line. "Piper is her name? Never heard of her. Then again, I never heard of Isaac Tate before all this happened. You sure do get yourself into a lot of trouble, Jake, you know that? Does Wesker know anything about Piper?"

Jake shrugged despite Sherry not being able to see him make such a movement. "I wouldn't know. I haven't talked to the old man since the plane ride over here. He hasn't come up from the lab in the basement."

"The lab?" She sounded as if she gulped. "Be careful around him, Jake. I know he's your father and everything, but I know the things Wesker can do. He worked with my dad and I remember when I'd meet Wesker. He treated me well but I just knew that a man that wore sunglasses indoors must be bad." Jake laughed at that. "I'm serious, Jake! If he knows anything about you having antibodies for the C-Virus, well then, he's going to make plans and with you in mind as the test subject."

"Sher-Bear," he called her by the silly nickname he'd given her that he made her swore she'd tell no one of the affectionate gesture he only showed towards her. "What did I tell you when I left to break Wesker out?"

Sherry sighed. "You told me that you knew what kind of man he was and you were prepared for whatever he had in mind, even if it meant—"

"Trying to kill me," Jake said the last part with her in unison. "Right. Look, Sherry, if my father wants to kill me, he's going to have one hell of a fight for my life. Especially now that…well, you know."

"Now that you have something to fight for?" The way she spoke hinted that she was speaking with a smile on her lips, her inquisitive hum at the end urging for Jake to admit that she was the reason he had something to fight for.

"Yeah, something like that," Jake murmured, chickening out on the romance that Sherry so obviously wanted reciprocated. But Jake wasn't a man to show love and affection as easily as the average guy. It took him a long time to except the vulnerability that love put him in. He knew that he couldn't have gotten the inability to be affectionate from his mother for she was the most adoring woman in Edonia without being called a whore. Jake grumbled at the knowing that he must have gotten the failure to show affection from his father. Man, did he hate realizing things he inherited from his father.

"Jake, I'm just telling you to be careful, all right?" Sherry urged. "I still think this was all a bad idea and that you should just come back here and you can leave all of this behind you. You can move on. You have a place here, Jake. With me."

No matter how much he wanted to argue, Jake sighed at the caring nature Sherry showed towards him. She was the first to make him actually stop and stare, not the usual way he had lived all his life in a fast paced existence. He saw and heard things he may not have before he met Sherry, and though it was a beginning into a life of unlimited possibilities and timeless beauty, it scared him immensely.

"I just need time, Sherry," he debated. "I need to know my father and I need to know why my mother held onto him after all he had done to her. My mother loved him as much as she loved me and I want to know the man that she was so obsessed with. You understand, don't you? It's something I need to do for me."

Nothing was heard except for the steady breaths Sherry exhaled. "I understand. I just…I don't think you'll like what you find in Wesker."

"I already don't," he mumbled. "Look, I'll be careful if you be careful, okay? I'm putting you in risk with all this and I wish you weren't. But you are, so stay safe for me."

"I will. I promise," she simply stated.

Not much was said after that but a small exchange of words. A few minutes passed when Jake finally closed the flip phone shut, ending the call with Sherry. He had maybe a good thirty minutes left on the disposable phone and he wanted to save those minutes to call Sherry when he really needed to. If he could, he'd talk to her all day, every day. But he had to be careful not to get her into any more trouble than he'd already put her in. He needed to keep her safe so that when this was all over, he had someone to go back to.

"Sher-Bear?"

Jake quickly turned around, holding the small phone in his fist, ready to throw it at whoever was eavesdropping. He was surprised to see Sheva standing by the black baby grand piano, her face laced with query as she took a seat on the piano bench.

"How long were you listening?" Jake hissed the question, angry that someone had caught his attempts of affection and with Sherry no less. He couldn't let anyone know he was in contact with her.

"Not too long," she admitted shyly. "I just heard bits but I was looking at the books too, so I was distracted from what you were saying."

"If you tell anyone about Sherry—"

"I won't tell anyone, okay?" Sheva placed a hand over her heart and nodded towards him. "You have my word, I won't tell a soul that you are talking to Sherry. I've never met her, but Claire always talks highly of her and I don't want any harm or danger on someone Claire cares about."

Jake's shoulders relaxed from the position he hadn't realized they were in and nodded in compliance. He still didn't trust Sheva entirely, but he learned day by day that her word was true. Once he looked back at Sheva, he quirked a brow to see her lay her fingers gently on the ivory keys of the piano, her eyes watching her hands carefully as they remained still. A smirk tugged at his lips as he walked to the piano, sitting on the bench beside her and nudged with his shoulder for her to scoot over.

"I was here first," Sheva complained, pressing her hands on the keys, causing a sound of harsh notes to play.

Jake sighed with annoyance and remained seated. He said not a word as he turned his attention to the ivory, his hands moving gracefully over the keys. The pace of the piece he played picked up, the tune becoming fast and his hands flying. He glanced at Sheva long enough for her to catch on; he was leaving the right side of the keys free for her to join, assuming she knew how to play. And she did. She joined in, her junction leading Jake to slow the pace and the piece becoming something of a charming ballad. This nearly went on for five minutes, the two challenging one another until the other grew tired. But when the so obviously old piano ringed in an out of tune note, Sheva was forced to stop due to the off-putting sound. Jake laughed triumphantly, feeling as if he could play for days without growing tired.

"My mother was a piano teacher," he explained when Sheva asked where he'd learned to play like that. "She had played all her life and when she was about twenty three, she came to America to pursue a life in music. Well, that didn't work out how she wanted and she went on to teach. She had taught me from an early age."

Sheva listened, slightly unsettled to hear of Jake's mother, the other woman in Wesker's life before her. When she asked Jake how his mother met Wesker, Jake shrugged, not entirely sure of the story himself.

"I think they met at a concert that she was performing in. You know, Wesker seems like the hoity-toity type to go to those instrumental concerts and I guess that's how they met. At least that's what my mom told me. God, she was in love with him…" he mumbled in disappointment. "I mean, I guess I shouldn't hate him too much because I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him. It's just… I don't know."

Sheva leaned forward to get a glimpse of his face, to read his expression so maybe he didn't have to verbally say his emotions like she knew he'd rather not. He remained stoic as he met her eyes, gray meeting hazel in a gaze of inquiry and hesitance. Sheva wanted to look away, his eyes looking a little similar to Wesker's, his orbs burning into hers as if he could read her thoughts and deepest darkest secrets.

"You deserve better, you know."

As if a bucket of ice cold water had spilled over her body, freezing her to the bone, Sheva's brow furrowed into a line of confusion and offense. Before she could speak, he did so first, talking with stern and matter-of-fact voice, reminding her a little of his father.

"Just like my mother. She deserved better than him and you do, too. I don't know what's between the two of you, but if you ask me, you should ditch him before he ruins you like he ruined my mother. He's a fucking parasite and she didn't deserve that. I hate that I'm related to him, but it gives me the right to say what scum he is. A word of advice on top of what I've already told you: run before he makes himself a monster on the outside to match the inside and comes killing you as some mutated freak."

His voice was acid, searing into her brain like the Snake to Eve. But it was Jake who claimed Wesker was the snake, persuading her to believe Wesker would feed her the forbidden fruit and curse her to the life of agony that he claimed his mother had lived. But these words, these speeches, were familiar. Chants and mantras spoken by many that she had crossed paths with that became repetitive after only so long of hearing it.

Chris preached the evil Wesker was, cursed his existence and made a promise he'd avenge those Wesker had killed in his wake. Jill supported the act, her own past with the ex-captain of S.T.A.R.S. impelling her to fight with the side of good, pushing out the bad that everyone claimed Wesker led. Claire cried for the ones that she lost to the evilness that was Wesker, the loved ones she would never have the opportunity to see again in this life. It was Wesker that caused all this pain on those who tried to stop him or simply encountered him. Wesker was the snake in the garden, slithering his tongue into songs of persuasion until he sunk his teeth into your flesh and spread his venom, destroying what he saw fit.

But Sheva saw a different man that everyone hated with a passion. In her eyes, Wesker was a man with a heart hidden behind the many layers built of iron. It was a selfish heart most of the time, but she had the opportunity to see the good that Wesker had the ability to do on rare occasions. First, he was a mad genius. Second, he was the snake that brought distraught onto others. And third, he was a man that thought too much and cared for so few things, but treasured to the fullest.

And here was his son, stating his disapproval in such an affair that Sheva found herself in, sometimes wondering if she was the only person in this affair for Wesker seemed to have cared very little for her in their past few confronts. Jake was honest, something she respected, and told her that she could do better. And Sheva was aware she could. Wesker wasn't necessarily the most ideal man to bring home to mother and father and he certainly wasn't someone Sheva imagined herself tying the knot with.

But she could see herself with him. Maybe tending to the garden while he watched over her like his protective and territorial self always did. He'd be researching in the library with her cuddled up beside him with her own romance novel in hand. Or waking up to the morning sun as it shined on their skin, lying in bed with not a care in the world as they kissed each good morning. It was the simple things that Sheva saw herself doing with him.

It was hard to have plenty speaking of negativity that involved Wesker, though she knew most were justifiable. When you loved someone that everyone hated, it was a challenge that she had never thought she'd find herself with.

After Jake's lecture, Sheva found herself unfit for conversation, excusing herself as she rose from the piano bench and sulked to the door into the never ending halls inside the Irish estate. Her fingertips traced along the stone walls as she walked to her room, feeling as if she hadn't slept in a hundred days.

Yes, everyone hated Wesker and part of her did too. The part that wondered why she had to be the one susceptible to his affections and attractions, making her weak in the knees and head over heels in love with the lunatic. Look what happened to Excella Gionne. Sheva had no ambition of becoming a steaming pile of black ooze, but she still followed Wesker's every move like Excella had. But if there was one thing Sheva had that the silicone Italian didn't, it was courage to stand up to Wesker. The moments were far and few in between, but Sheva had the audacity to stand up to Wesker and tell him how things worked. Those were the moments when she didn't feel guilty to be in love with him, as if she had actual control over her feelings and emotions. As if she had control over him.

Sheva rolled her eyes at the thought of controlling Wesker, a humorous thought at best, as she made it to her bedroom, pushing the door open as it squeaked with aged hinges. The room felt thick in pressure but cold in temperature, giving an odd feeling to Sheva's senses. Rolling her shoulders and stretching her arms, she moved to the foot of her bed next to the small bench. A sigh slipped passed her lips as her eyes roamed the room, looking for something new to study amongst the drab décor. She thought to herself that if she had the time, or rather the energy and determination, she'd do something with this poor, old, sad room and try to at least make it semi lively; a challenge greater than loving Wesker in the midst of haters.

As Sheva thought of a color scheme she'd give the room, she turned and gasped to see a visitor she had no idea had already been in the room before she arrived. Her heart thumped in her ears, goosebumps rose on her skin and her eyes opened wide as she took in the image of Wesker leaning against the wardrobe with a smirk on his lips and those famous glasses he used to wear full time perched on the bridge of his nose.

Sheva was sure the gulp she swallowed echoed in the room, making Wesker chuckle under his breath as she kept from whimpering. So much for trying to control my feelings and emotions. He pushed off the wardrobe, his arms crossing over his chest as his eyes looked over Sheva's near trembling figure.

Something was different, she knew. She had a bad feeling more than any about this particular encounter with the man she involuntarily loved. Taking a step back, the back of her knees hit the bench at the end of her bed and she sat down without thought, watching as Wesker circled around her as he kept his eyes on her.

"What do you want?" she managed to ask, her voice slightly shaky.

She wanted to comment on his glasses, but found no courage to do so. He was clad in black, a long sleeve V-neck shirt, perfectly tailored slacks, and shiny dress shoes that gleamed with the poor sunshine. He stopped circling, halting to stand right in front of the tall windows to look down at her, the light behind him creating an eerie silhouette. What was so eerie about it was that it matched perfectly to the one in Sheva's nightmares.

"Whatever you want, I won't do it."

He groaned, turning his head to look back at the window at the forest beyond. When he turned back, Sheva could see the smirk missing, gone from his face as if it was never there. His arms fell to his sides, fists clenching as he took a step forward.

"All I require is a small favor," he purred, his pearly teeth showing when he took a moment to calm himself and forced a smile. Strange enough, Sheva found pride in the fact she was able to anger him so easily. "Something small but would mean so much. You see, it is something you can aid me with. If you do me this favor, you'd be helping mankind more than any human being on the planet ever has. So, what do you say, Little Bird?"

Author's note: Oh, Wesker, old sport. What do you have up your sleeve? A little bit of ass kissing perhaps? That bit when Wesker is referred as the "snake" (No reference to Alyssa the cobra, haha.) and shown in such a bad light is what I imagine how Sheva sees others speak of Wesker. I'd think all they'd have to say is mostly negative, contradicting with Sheva's vision, so it paints an ugly picture in Sheva's mind. I hope that makes sense.

Sheva Redfield: You're a sweetheart, thank you. I'm just super judgmental of my writing and I make that obvious. Don't worry about leaving reviews, I understand completely. Though, I appreciate whatever you can say. Oh, Chris. He better not be sulking and actually trying to find Sheva!
agnesreed: You made me feel a lot better about the last update. Thank you! We must stay suspicious of Flynn. We must…!
Comix777: I was waiting to see who was going to comment on that part where Sheva wants to show Flynn something. And actually, I'm not terribly surprised it was you. That's not an insult, but just a silly observation. I don't know if Sheva's lonely, but she doesn't want to be alone. I hope that difference makes as much sense as I think it does. It's supposed to be enigmatic, Comix! It'll all make sense in future chapters, I swear. And then you'll be saying aloud, "Aha!" :)
Lollipop Lolli: Thank you, Anastasia, for the encouragement. It's ok to feel bad for Flynn and be suspicious of him at the same time, that's how I want it to be, haha. Can I tease you for a moment? There's a Shesker moment in the next chapter. Happy New Year. :)

Next chapter is longer for you guys as a treat because the next update is sort of sentimental to me. At least I feel like it's a longer chapter. On a side note, my brother got me the Resident Evil Anthology for Christmas and I've just started playing RE1. That voice acting… It's…indescribable! Of course I played 2 right when I got it and I don't think I ever wanted to be a kid again more in my life!

-Sarai

*Matt Corby is an Australian singer-songwriter and musician that you all should check out if you like indie music!