Chapter 36
"Still, we will let all this be a thing of the past, though it hurts us, and beat down by constraint the anger that rises inside us.
Now I am making an end of my anger. It does not become me, unrelentingly to rage on."
-Homer, The Iliad
Theme: Last Night in Loz Feliz- Niia
Lit in golden color from the globed lampposts dotting the walkway, the courtyard was dressed in its very best for a chilly autumn evening. Warm red and orange leaves littered around the trees bathed in like coloration. The courtyard's occupants ranged from small clusters of masked party-goers gathered in tight circles to a loose crowd gathered around one poor soul that couldn't hold his liquor. Between jeers and chuckles at his state, he purged into a bush.
A sigh was far from contained as Wesker peered across the half empty courtyard. Bristling, as someone rested a hand on his shoulder, his eyes met a familiar dark pair.
"Don't stay up too late looking," Ada softly teased, breaking eye contact only to glance at John marching down the walkway.
Eyes narrowing, the blonde started to say something only to receive "I don't want to hear it," from Ms. Wong as she sauntered off after her boyfriend. A bemused sound escaped Wesker, eyes drifting their stare toward another open doorway in the courtyard. The light spilling out revealed only more masked guests enjoying the evening.
He was too distracted to pass judgement on their appearances and utter drunkenness.
'Where, oh where would I go if I was a wilting Valentine?'
A few stares met his from one of the groups, though they soon returned to their idle chatter. A hand slipping into his jacket, he retrieved a half spent pack of cigarettes. One readily slid from the small opening and was lit via a silver Zippo. Clapping the lid to the lighter shut, he stowed both. His glace shot up at the sound of footfalls approaching, though nothing more than the usual indifferent expression rested on his face at the sight of an unfamiliar pair of women. Both in green, their theme was something to the effect of floral and ivy.
The red head shot him a wink.
"Good evening, ladies." Stare shifting away at their giggles, he checked his watch. A glance toward the clock tower itself and he found both within sync. A flick of ash, smoke and fogged breath mingling on exhale, and Albert found himself staring at the darkened mouth of the entrance to the courtyard.
'Why am I bothering? If she so desires to be her own destruction, it is no concern of mine. Why waste my precious time?'
Two minutes passed. He had no answer to that question. A long drag, and he sighed again. Another check of the time.
Stalling…
The clock struck ten, the tower's bells sounding in the chill of the night air.
'You're fooling yourself again.'
Mouth pressing into a thin line, he shook his head and disposed of the cigarette. A hand raking through his platinum strands, Wesker began digging in his pocket for his car keys. The final bell tolled as he fished them out and headed toward the entrance.
Passing the open doors of the dance hall, the sound of a piano caught his ear.
Moonlight Sonata.
Chilled eyes rolled.
'As if I needed another reason to desire being struck deaf...'
A few off keys played caught to the air.
A laugh following after.
Wesker stopped.
"No, no… You don't need to rush through this song, my dear. It is supposed to be slow. It is supposed to be as solemn and serene as the moon itself." Hand rotating as he articulated his take on the classic tune, Ozwell smiled at the young woman seated next to him at the bench of the ink black piano. "It sounded wonderful until you began to rush. Now, try again." An elbow resting on the edge of the onyx painted wood, Spencer's golden ring flashed in the light.
Long fingers shrouded pristine white keys.
A black bird mask went ignored resting atop the piano, glittering in faux gloomy jewels.
The crowd that had gathered to watch fell into a hush, masked faces curiously peering.
The opening notes wandered from each key pressed, spreading their tones to every wall. The tones that followed after exerted the haunting melody.
The old man's lips curled into a grin. "Good… Very good." His attention shifted as Victoria stood behind him, her hands resting upon his aged shoulders. "Ah, I was hoping you would be back to hear this."
The blonde woman smiled, leaning down to press a kiss against the cheek of her husband. "Miss Valentine is a wonderful musician. How could I afford to miss this?" Victoria's pale eyes shifted to the sheet music, leaning in to turn the page.
A white and shy smile flashed, Jill walked her fingers across the keys. "I try." In the wake of her song, she was blessed with gentle applause from the crowd gathered around.
"Marvelous, Jill. Keep it up and you may find yourself selling out music halls on your own Steinway."
The feeling of a cold palm on her shoulder, and Jill watched Ozwell and his bride depart. She would wait to speak to him about the job.
The crowd of curious spectators followed after, making their way back into the main hall and beyond to the rest of the building. Laughter and a low roar soon filled the void.
Sliding off the bench, the bird mask was swiped from the piano's top. The idea of following everyone else back toward the party wasn't inviting. She had planned to catch a ride with William and Annette…
'And in order to find them I would need to waltz back in there and navigate a sea of people.'
The door to the chapel stood open as Jill gazed to her left. She hadn't been in any sort of house of worship since her mother's death. The memory sunk in her gut.
'Can kill some time in there, anyway… There might be a phone and I can just call a cab.'
Heels clicking against the marble floor, she stepped past a decorative plant situated a hair too close to the door leading into the chapel. A long rug, plush and crimson, greeted her feet as she walked in. The chapel itself was quaint, lit in golden light by lamps and candles. It reminded her of old places of worship found in history books.
A place where huddled masses hid from plague and war.
'An odd throwback…'
The altar itself appeared old, cloaked in blue. The fabric was unpleasant to the touch, old as well. Mildew was stiff in the air.
Wells of blue lifted to the tabernacle behind the altar.
She tried to recall just what was kept inside the fixed box…
…As the door to the chapel audibly shut.
Jill exhaled through her nostrils.
Footfalls could be heard, muted by the carpet.
'Just someone checking out the chapel too…'
She knew better than that, though. Try as she might to fool herself… until she could feel the heat of another at her back.
A familiar scent.
Breath at the nape of her neck stole her own.
"What do you want?" She choked out when strands of brunette were brushed behind her ear. The diamond stud in her lobe glittered in the warm light.
The question went ignored, a mouth close to her ear. "It feels as though it has been a long time since we were last alone…" A voice replied, velvety and familiar.
Jill glanced briefly over her shoulder.
Wesker.
Amusement was strung across his features. Eyes bare of their usual shroud.
She didn't share in the amusement, expression indifferent and her body stiff.
'What is so goddamn funny?'
It was almost as though he could hear that question. The smirk vanished as he spoke. "William and Annette left."
A heavy sigh exerted, Jill swore under her breath. Her stare turned toward the stained glass of the windows behind the altar "They probably thought I left."
"That sounds likely… You do tend to disappear without notice when you're sulking."
"I am not sulking."
"Mm…" His long fingers splayed over her shoulders, dragging along the slopes lazily. Wesker's stare following her own to their reflections in the windows, brows raising. "Of course not. You're aimlessly trudging through the world for no reason." When no reply came, he prodded further. A digit running along where fabric met the milky skin of her back.
She twitched.
He smirked. "Dressing as though you are on your way to your own funeral."
She shot a glare to his reflection. "And you're dressed like you're ready for that funeral."
Perfect and pearly white teeth uncovering was his only answer to that. He would have been a liar if he claimed he had not missed her humor. His fingers slid back to her shoulders, thumbs rolling over tensions that words could not ease.
Jill's shoulders relaxed, head sinking. She thought she could hear rain outside. The brunette could have easily told him to stop.
He knew that and he would have.
She knew she should tell him to stop.
He knew that too.
The clock on the wall chimed.
The silence between them bothered her too much, blue eyes lifting to him in the reflection of the window once more.
He caught her stare. "What?" The question was quiet.
"Can I tell you something?"
Expression smoothing over, he nodded. "Anything."
"It wasn't just you—us. You know?"
A perplexed expression was the only response she was given.
"It was the pressure of work. It was losing Dad. Everything was weighing me down. So much fucking baggage."
"What transpired between us was the baggage you decided to discard of to stay afloat?"
She refused to dignify that question with a response, so she changed direction. "I can't keep doing this…"
Lightly colored brows raised. "Doing what?"
"This. Us… Whatever the fuck we are and whatever the fuck this is that we keep doing to each other." She swallowed back the desire to point fingers over the broken remains of what they had been. "I can't keep going in circles. I can't fight you anymore."
The blonde made an amused sound. "Then stop fighting me," the words spoken were barely above a whisper. His hands dropped, the moment tarnished by reality. "I did have a question…" He dug through his pockets for a half empty pack of cigarettes.
Perching on the altar, Jill found herself staring at her shoes. Black Mary Janes. "What?" The flick of the lighter caught her ear and she glanced up to him when silence overtook.
Smoke rolled from his lips, ash flicked right onto the floor. "Have you spoken to Spencer yet?"
She shook her head, arms folding across her chest. "No."
"When do you plan to?" His stare pitched to the clock on the wall. It was getting late.
"Before I leave tonight…"
Graying blue hues gazed toward her sidelong. "Don't." When a sigh was the only response he received, Albert stowed the lighter and package of coffin nails he wished he could quit. "Tell me… Who murdered your father?"
A lump in her throat, Jill's stare dropped. "Irons." Like she could forget.
"That's correct. You found his hands in that fat moron's little chamber of horrors. And… who does Irons answer to?" The effigies on the walls behind the altar caught the blonde's eye.
"Spencer."
More ash flicked on the pristine rug, Albert looked back to the woman. "The further you run from me, the less protection you have."
Brows knit, Jill began to protest. "But Annette—"
Wesker's expression twisted to disbelief. "Annette? Annette doesn't live your life, Jill. She is well protected by her husband, who is the most brilliant scientist alive today." His voice lowered, like he was telling her a secret. "Nobody would touch Annette Birkin if they valued their life or the lives of everyone they ever knew. You…" His expression turned to nothing less than stone. "…do not have such a luxury."
Confusion littering her face, she attempted to protest again "But she said—"
"Wake the FUCK up, Jill!" Patience: gone.
She visibly twitched, eyes as big as dinner saucers.
"Have you completely forgotten just how fucking dangerous these people are? They put your father in the ground without a second thought. They'd do the same to you right before going to finish a round of golf at some godforsaken country club. You are a loose end if you are not useful. Don't you see that?"
No response.
The cigarette was stamped out on the floor, some composure restored upon exhale. "Don't get me wrong. The Birkins are the closest thing to family I will ever have. They are brilliant in their own realms. Annette can accurately diagnose patients who are afflicted with parasites better than any other person in her field. William? He could tell you everything about a virus and you would understand it just as well as he does. He is a remarkable teacher and that pales in comparison to the kind of researcher he is. William and Annette have been under Spencer's protection since they were teenagers, they do not know what it is to be outside of their bubble. Everywhere in the world they have gone, they have had the finest of everything. They are far more valuable than you are, and you need to remember that."
Still no response, the foible of picking at her nails had returned.
"You have lived a sheltered existence prior to Raccoon City as well. That is something I could forgive if you weren't making such a scene. You moving all over the chess board draws too much attention to us. You threaten everything your father worked tirelessly, and sat in jail, to stop. You have spat on all of his work every time you throw a tantrum."
That would leave a mark. "How dare you." Blue wells turned glassy as Jill's mood soured. "This, right now, is you throwing a tantrum that I am leaving. Hiding it under a pile of bullshit and lies doesn't fool me."
"Don't flatter yourself. I could replace you in a matter of minutes."
"Then do so, and leave me alone."
Wesker pressed further, not ready to allow her another word in until he decided when she would speak. "Do you think this dramatic behavior is doing you any favors? Bitching and moaning over a petty spat you had with me to Annette? Do you think that builds her confidence in your skill or do you see the reality of the situation? I think it likely leads her to believe you are incompetent, immature, and a perfect candidate to take the fall if she needs you to. Do you really believe your friendship with her is protection?"
No response from Valentine.
"Even William finds your recent behavior to be a distraction, though is far more forgiving considering that you are an asset despite it. It was why you were approached to move elsewhere at great and unnecessary risk. A risk I am not willing to take. They may have a soft spot for you, but I assure you…" His lips turned into a grin. A nasty one. "You should not make the mistake of thinking for a second that William and Annette wouldn't let you hang out to dry if you became a liability to them."
Adjusting the hem of her dress, Jill shifted uncomfortably.
"Allow me to make another thing clear to you: expect no different from me."
She dared to look up at him towering over her, red rimming her glassy blue eyes. Shock littered her expression.
"Don't look so surprised or hurt. You know what this life is and the danger we are all in. You have done quite a remarkable job of taking options away from me. You of all people know what the world looks like when I have no choice. Perhaps you didn't understand the gravity of the choice you made when you said you were in this with us. Now you do understand, though I maintain you should have known better." He paused, glancing back to view the door before returning his stare to her.
"You are a bastard."
He shook his head. "That is a moot point."
"Is it always like that? Easy to cut someone loose when you cannot control the situation?"
'Is it easy to kill, Albert?'
His expression was unreadable. "I could ask you the same ridiculous question, but I will refrain. No, it's never easy. Necessity does not allow for personal feelings, however. Doing what is necessary is how I have survived this long. You will have to detach yourself from your feelings if you plan to survive this with me."
'With you?'
The brunette shook her head. "I don't want to just survive."
Ashen eyes became tranquil, though only briefly. "I know that. A day will come when we are no longer surviving and we can live as we like. We have to get there first." Hands on either side of her on the wood of the altar, his face was mere inches from hers. "That is why from here on out you will stay put and do exactly as I say."
Jill frowned deeply, daring him with her eyes to gain compliance for such a demand.
Wesker sighed, recognizing that expression. His own softened considerably. "You have every reason to be furious at me and I can live with that. I need you to trust me." Long fingers slid to her chin, drawing the brunette's stare back to him when she looked away. "Trust me again and I will never fail you."
Her gaze narrowed. "Is this you trying to apologize?"
He paused, lips pressing into a thin line before he spoke. "What if it is?"
Her stare shifted away toward the far wall. "If it is, you'll need to give me more than pretty words."
"Name it."
A shake resonated through her sigh before Jill spoke, fingers worrying themselves to the bone. "Let me go work with this new squad that concerns itself with keeping the peace between the plant and the hospital."
Albert sighed, his thumbnail running along his hairline briefly. "You seem to think that this position is a cure all for your problems no matter what I tell you. Aside from everything I said, it's a temporary position until Spencer returns in the Spring. From there, Umbrella will be hiring its own force to monitor the area. Everyone will be returning to the RPD for regular duty at that point."
"It would keep me far away from Irons for a while…" She replied almost mutely as he joined her on the altar. Cornflower hues were glassy as she gazed up at him.
"That's why you want to leave?"
She nodded, wiping away a few tears with the flats of her palms. "As angry as I am at you, it's getting harder being in the same building as that man."
"You're still angry at me?"
Jill nodded again, frowning deeply as his arm wrapped around her smaller frame. "He was baiting you and you almost went for it in your anger. I tried to protect you from the man who took my father from me…and you treated me like dirt for it."
He said nothing. Deep set gray eyes only gazed back at her.
She audibly swallowed, red stinging the edges of her eyes to release more tears. "I wasn't wanting praise for it, but I certainly didn't deserve what you did. You humiliated and threatened me and you did it again tonight."
Still no response from Wesker.
"You pushed me away at a moment when it took everything in me not to turn around and just shoot him."
Blonde brows rose in unison.
She wiped her face again, mascara ruined.
Silence filled the void for another eternity.
The clock struck twelve.
"You live far too much in your head, my dear." The blonde pulled his almost spent pack of cigarettes from his jacket, offering it over to her first. "I had no idea that was what you were thinking."
"I told you this a few days ago." Irritation rattled through her voice as smoke escaped Jill's lips.
"You told me that you were trying to stop me from turning his face into a Halloween mask. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why you would give a shit what I did to him." His stare pitched to the doors at the far end of the chapel.
"That's not what frightens me."
"I know. What you've said tonight tells me enough of what you genuinely fear." He snickered softly after a moment. "Would it be odd if I said it was flattering?"
"A bit." Her lips formed a brief smile. She didn't know why. "Why is it flattering?"
Pearly teeth exposed themselves as his grin broadened. "It would be the first time a woman I'm… with?" A sidelong gaze was passed to her. For a man who took whatever he wanted it seemed certain lines never were to be crossed.
Her lips formed a thin line as she pressed them together briefly, a long drag from the cigarette followed.
Ash was flicked from his on the floor. If he was nervous, he didn't give any inclination.
She nodded.
His lips twitched at their edges briefly, a slight shift in his shoulders would have evaded all but a trained eye.
Relaxed.
"It would be the first time a woman I am with thought it was important to protect me, rather than it being a one-sided affair."
"You're all I have." She uttered softly, leaning into him.
His arm found itself curled about her form once more, and he didn't know what to say to such a remark. His chest smoldered until only black ash was left in the pit of his stomach. Guilt.
It was well past dawn when he opened the passenger car door for her.
His jacket shrouded around her slim shoulders, Jill pressed a gentle kiss against the edge of his mouth. "Take me home…" She uttered softly, sliding into her seat.
Home.
His home.
The door shut snugly, keys fished out of his pocket as Wesker made his way around to the driver's side. Felix the Cat smiled his goofy grin on the keyring between impossibly long fingers.