Category: Resident Evil (I'm pretty sure you got that already)
Title: Wesker's Desire
Author: Dan
Email: fan_fic_writer_uk@yahoo.co.uk
OR
fan_fic_writer_uk@msn.com
OR
IM me on either of the two
Pairing: Wesker/Claire (then again that could easily be Claire/Wesker. they're both very dominating individuals.) Rating: R
Disclaimer: (like you need one of these.) NO!!...I own nothing blah blah. I'm not the owner of RE, nor do I have any affiliation with Capcom .yadda yadda. I'm just a humble fan fiction writer who has a way too unhealthy interest in *wrong* pairings.
A/n: Well updates here have been sparse and far in-between. Indeed that about summarises all my stories, but hopefully that will change. I have found new interest in this story and hopefully should be updating like I did in its infancy. The only problem I now encounter is the trouble of losing the style of character that I have created, due to any possible shift in my writing technique and mannerisms in the months between updates. If that has happened I do apologise, but I am hoping that won't be the case and that my style has matured (now that I am an ageing 16 year old beginning to enter his teenage twilight years.). I am hoping to actually finish this story off, although the end as I have said before is no-where in sight, well maybe *some-where*, we'll have to see where though; it could be closer than I'm presuming.
Apologies in advance for any OOCness or shift in writing style
Chapter 13: Questions with More than Just Answers
***
"Questions?" Wesker repeated echoing her, seemingly disinterested by the prospect of another interrogation session, although outside façades can be so deceptive. "That's what I said, there are some things that deserve going over" Claire replied, her voice becoming a tad icy due to Wesker's typical off-handed reaction to apparently any proposition, which angered her no end. "Forgive my reluctance, but why?" Wesker said, reacting to her coolness by all too easily matching it, "It is inevitable you want to go over your almost clinical obsession with 'The Past' yet again and I can't see any point in pursuing that avenue. The past is the past, what is done is done, as they say, you should learn to deal with it". Not for the first time the atmosphere in the room filled with tension from a metaphoric reservoir, if previous outburst were anything to go by, as Claire sought her reply.
They were looking at each other as they spoke. It was truly an odd sort of eye contact; it really should have been unnerving for Claire, for Wesker had his shades to hide behind after all. Protected by a darkened lens, his eyes unable to be read on his expressionless face, she had no barrier of her own to combat them.but this was Claire Redfield. Her eyes began to smoulder once more as Wesker began once again to push all her right emotional buttons. "That's all it is? Happenings? Occurrences? Deeds? How can you be dismissive over it all?" her voice rose with her own distaste for the words. "I believe we've already had this conversation Claire" Wesker responded in traditional condescension. "You never gave me an answer, in fact you dodged one" Claire said practically snarling her response to him as she seethed with fury. "Why you need to know is beyond me Claire, you never really knew the people concerned, it has absolutely no bearing on you or your life in the slightest. Your experiences of Raccoon city were down to the deceased Mr. Birkin, not me" Wesker's voice began to rise a little as well, as the topic began to heat up.
Claire looked ready to leap at the man, who with barely a few words could work her into such an emotional frenzy. It looked as if she was to set herself upon him again, complete with insults and profanities, but then her eye mood shifted drastically. Wesker was all set to make a snide remark on how at least she'd learnt, from her previous *tussles* with him, that her brute strength was never going to be a factor in any triumph she might have over him. He stopped though, the unspoken words applying uncomfortable pressure to his throat, when he saw exactly what mood her eyes had engaged. They took on a sudden far-away, thoughtful, lost gaze that, whilst it was also incredibly beautiful, he immediately found it disconcerting. Of course this in turn disgusted him because of the influence that he was letting her exert over him. Her gaze bore into him as she spoke carefully and slowly, whilst defying his cold shades, as if each word was of some terrible importance and somehow needed individual expression. "You don't know how wrong you are Wesker". She continued, "I've been affected as much as anyone by you and your betrayal to the S.T.A.R.S team, possibly. maybe. certainly, even more. I've had to watch my brother die little by little since you decided on that mansion mission in case you didn't know. Just because he was a survivor doesn't mean he's better off. He's had to live with the fact that only he and a few other colleagues made it out of there alive, and that guilt is slowly, unfairly killing him. Every day since then he's dedicated his life to avenge their deaths, to prevent them from being meaningless. He's lost his life, sacrificed it for the good of the dead.and sometimes I think I've lost him. I can't be sure that he's mine anymore, I used to know. I used to be able to say in all honesty that his first, his main priority was me, his sister. Now I can't, and it's all down to you. so you think that when I get the chance I'm not going to ask you why you've done this to me?" She continued before Wesker was able to respond, not that he actually had anything to say at that point. "It's not just Chris' hell though, it's mine too. I was there, I've witnessed it, witnessed all the horrors that Umbrella has in store for the world. Now I can barely remember my innocent but oh so naïve college days, that's an old life of mine, one that I've had to lose. I've seen so many zombies and lickers that they seem almost normal to me. Do you understand how sick that is a prospect, to be able to say that that is normal? I didn't ask for this hell, this torture, this misery but because of you I've been forced to live it and I think I deserve some sort of goddamn answer".
Instantly after her somewhat lengthily monologue was over Claire regretted it, regretted revealing herself in anyway to the man beside her. She hadn't planned it, getting so emotional; neither did she know why she had. This man just seemed to be able to pull any emotion he chose to the surface at any time he wanted, whether he consciously knew that or not she did not know. There was a silence that hung over the room after that, as Claire mused and Wesker struggled with himself. He had felt something as Claire had spoke, something so strong he couldn't deny it (although he tried to twist the feeling mentally into something that wasn't totally outside his meagre palette of emotions). As she had spoken, and gradually got more emotional as she opened herself up more and more, he'd had the strange urge, the need, the want even, to at least touch her, if not to hold her. The feeling, he presumed, albeit grudgingly, would be somewhere on the compassion scale, although he had no idea as where to place it. On the other hand he also felt that he should be the one to dismiss her openness with his usual cold and brash nature, it was perhaps privately expected by both parties that he would. It would be so easy to do, just a cold, brash one-liner that would make her close up the small amount of emotion she was showing and allow things to return to how they *should* be. Just a moment of sarcasm would be enough, the words needn't be clever or witty, they needn't be anything spectacular, just enough to be deemed cruel. There would be no chance of her letting herself slip again and the distance between them could be kept suitable, comfortable and most importantly safe. But the ideal situation is rarely the desirable one, and judgement is especially open to being clouded in such instances.
Wesker almost immediately made his decision. It might not have been the right one, but he never saw things through his usually rational, sensible, logical eyes when it came to her, that was becoming rather evident. "Your right" he spoke slowly, as if the words were alien to him, "I can't give you answers though". She said nothing as he paused and breathed deeply before continuing "There was no real reason why they had to die, they just got caught in the crossfire, like a lot of people. I'd been given a job, a mission, and, as callous as it might sound; in my line of work you soon lose the idea that a person is an individual, as opposed to an object. If you think of them having a character, a personality, anything that would make them a human being, then your not Umbrella material. Even colleagues are no different; you have to be ready to kill them in an instance in order to cover any tracks to Umbrella, or to deal with betrayal. There is no exemption, no exception, no granted immunity, anyone and everyone are liable to be stabbed in the back, be they lover or nemesis. And I've had years of experience with Umbrella and people that work in all too similar ways to how it does. So when I led those people into the mansion I can't say I felt any trace of emotion, sentiment or regret. That's the closest I can give you to an answer Claire, it might not be the one you wanted, but it's the truth, and that's what you said you want. I'm not entirely sure whether it is better that there was no personal reason for the deaths I've caused or the drawing of people like you into the shadow world of Umbrella and its rivals, but that's how it is".
Any moral opinion that Claire had over what Wesker had told her, with an almost brutal honesty, remained unvoiced. When she did speak her voice was full of nothing but curiosity and, quite possibly, tinged with a suggestion of empathy. "You've never regretted anything you've done?" she spoke softly and slightly unevenly in pitch. The recipient of the question considered his next move thoughtfully; did he even want to enter this discussion with her? Opposite sides don't talk about things like regret and thus weakness, but then again where was the opposition? There was a truce being held, even if only barely, and the room was apparently in a state of neutrality, a vacuum from their normal relationship and attitude for the other, a haven if looked at in a certain way. "I think practically everyone feels some remorse, some sort of sorrow or, more likely, guilt in the beginning." Wesker finally said, avoiding any personal reply of his own, ".but it fades. Surely you can relate to some extent, you've killed countless zombies after all". "That's completely and entirely different, the person is already dead, and there is no pretence to keep up, because they are soulless creatures, devoid of any emotion or feeling". Claire replied automatically, she had somewhat foreseen that he might endeavour to approach her from that direction. "So relate how you feel when you kill a zombie to how I feel when I kill a *person*" Wesker just as quickly replied, making it clear to her that in his opinion there was no difference between the two.
"So you'd kill me without a second hesitation?" the question came out of no- where, Claire unable to comprehend why she had dared ask him. She blushed slightly, an action that was more than a rarity for her; due to the personal element that was now in the conversation (although like Wesker she convinced herself that it was, at most, an exchange of information, a simple Q&A). Wesker had to suppress the smirk; no. it was an indisputable smile, which assaulted his impassive features as he took pleasure in seeing her blush, even if he hadn't caused it. That precarious, unhealthy interest in her delicate fluster was to prove to have dire consequences for Wesker though, as it took his usually razor-sharp focus away from the current question. It was with his vigilance crucially too lax and neglected, that Wesker made his response without a second, or really first, thought. "I could never kill *you* Claire" he spoke with gentle, undeniably truthful, honesty. His mind was too cloudy with the alluring task of trying to *see* the residue heat of her blush rather than pay a great deal of contemplation into his words, or rather unconscious declaration.
It wasn't until he saw her face twist itself into an expression or pure, intense puzzlement that Wesker snapped out of his moment of weakness. He had to think, and fast.
***
A/n: Well another chapter finally written, I'm sure people gave up hope of an update long ago. Anyway, as always, any comments, views, criticisms, etc that you might have are greatly appreciated, be them via review, email or Instant Message.
Dan
Title: Wesker's Desire
Author: Dan
Email: fan_fic_writer_uk@yahoo.co.uk
OR
fan_fic_writer_uk@msn.com
OR
IM me on either of the two
Pairing: Wesker/Claire (then again that could easily be Claire/Wesker. they're both very dominating individuals.) Rating: R
Disclaimer: (like you need one of these.) NO!!...I own nothing blah blah. I'm not the owner of RE, nor do I have any affiliation with Capcom .yadda yadda. I'm just a humble fan fiction writer who has a way too unhealthy interest in *wrong* pairings.
A/n: Well updates here have been sparse and far in-between. Indeed that about summarises all my stories, but hopefully that will change. I have found new interest in this story and hopefully should be updating like I did in its infancy. The only problem I now encounter is the trouble of losing the style of character that I have created, due to any possible shift in my writing technique and mannerisms in the months between updates. If that has happened I do apologise, but I am hoping that won't be the case and that my style has matured (now that I am an ageing 16 year old beginning to enter his teenage twilight years.). I am hoping to actually finish this story off, although the end as I have said before is no-where in sight, well maybe *some-where*, we'll have to see where though; it could be closer than I'm presuming.
Apologies in advance for any OOCness or shift in writing style
Chapter 13: Questions with More than Just Answers
***
"Questions?" Wesker repeated echoing her, seemingly disinterested by the prospect of another interrogation session, although outside façades can be so deceptive. "That's what I said, there are some things that deserve going over" Claire replied, her voice becoming a tad icy due to Wesker's typical off-handed reaction to apparently any proposition, which angered her no end. "Forgive my reluctance, but why?" Wesker said, reacting to her coolness by all too easily matching it, "It is inevitable you want to go over your almost clinical obsession with 'The Past' yet again and I can't see any point in pursuing that avenue. The past is the past, what is done is done, as they say, you should learn to deal with it". Not for the first time the atmosphere in the room filled with tension from a metaphoric reservoir, if previous outburst were anything to go by, as Claire sought her reply.
They were looking at each other as they spoke. It was truly an odd sort of eye contact; it really should have been unnerving for Claire, for Wesker had his shades to hide behind after all. Protected by a darkened lens, his eyes unable to be read on his expressionless face, she had no barrier of her own to combat them.but this was Claire Redfield. Her eyes began to smoulder once more as Wesker began once again to push all her right emotional buttons. "That's all it is? Happenings? Occurrences? Deeds? How can you be dismissive over it all?" her voice rose with her own distaste for the words. "I believe we've already had this conversation Claire" Wesker responded in traditional condescension. "You never gave me an answer, in fact you dodged one" Claire said practically snarling her response to him as she seethed with fury. "Why you need to know is beyond me Claire, you never really knew the people concerned, it has absolutely no bearing on you or your life in the slightest. Your experiences of Raccoon city were down to the deceased Mr. Birkin, not me" Wesker's voice began to rise a little as well, as the topic began to heat up.
Claire looked ready to leap at the man, who with barely a few words could work her into such an emotional frenzy. It looked as if she was to set herself upon him again, complete with insults and profanities, but then her eye mood shifted drastically. Wesker was all set to make a snide remark on how at least she'd learnt, from her previous *tussles* with him, that her brute strength was never going to be a factor in any triumph she might have over him. He stopped though, the unspoken words applying uncomfortable pressure to his throat, when he saw exactly what mood her eyes had engaged. They took on a sudden far-away, thoughtful, lost gaze that, whilst it was also incredibly beautiful, he immediately found it disconcerting. Of course this in turn disgusted him because of the influence that he was letting her exert over him. Her gaze bore into him as she spoke carefully and slowly, whilst defying his cold shades, as if each word was of some terrible importance and somehow needed individual expression. "You don't know how wrong you are Wesker". She continued, "I've been affected as much as anyone by you and your betrayal to the S.T.A.R.S team, possibly. maybe. certainly, even more. I've had to watch my brother die little by little since you decided on that mansion mission in case you didn't know. Just because he was a survivor doesn't mean he's better off. He's had to live with the fact that only he and a few other colleagues made it out of there alive, and that guilt is slowly, unfairly killing him. Every day since then he's dedicated his life to avenge their deaths, to prevent them from being meaningless. He's lost his life, sacrificed it for the good of the dead.and sometimes I think I've lost him. I can't be sure that he's mine anymore, I used to know. I used to be able to say in all honesty that his first, his main priority was me, his sister. Now I can't, and it's all down to you. so you think that when I get the chance I'm not going to ask you why you've done this to me?" She continued before Wesker was able to respond, not that he actually had anything to say at that point. "It's not just Chris' hell though, it's mine too. I was there, I've witnessed it, witnessed all the horrors that Umbrella has in store for the world. Now I can barely remember my innocent but oh so naïve college days, that's an old life of mine, one that I've had to lose. I've seen so many zombies and lickers that they seem almost normal to me. Do you understand how sick that is a prospect, to be able to say that that is normal? I didn't ask for this hell, this torture, this misery but because of you I've been forced to live it and I think I deserve some sort of goddamn answer".
Instantly after her somewhat lengthily monologue was over Claire regretted it, regretted revealing herself in anyway to the man beside her. She hadn't planned it, getting so emotional; neither did she know why she had. This man just seemed to be able to pull any emotion he chose to the surface at any time he wanted, whether he consciously knew that or not she did not know. There was a silence that hung over the room after that, as Claire mused and Wesker struggled with himself. He had felt something as Claire had spoke, something so strong he couldn't deny it (although he tried to twist the feeling mentally into something that wasn't totally outside his meagre palette of emotions). As she had spoken, and gradually got more emotional as she opened herself up more and more, he'd had the strange urge, the need, the want even, to at least touch her, if not to hold her. The feeling, he presumed, albeit grudgingly, would be somewhere on the compassion scale, although he had no idea as where to place it. On the other hand he also felt that he should be the one to dismiss her openness with his usual cold and brash nature, it was perhaps privately expected by both parties that he would. It would be so easy to do, just a cold, brash one-liner that would make her close up the small amount of emotion she was showing and allow things to return to how they *should* be. Just a moment of sarcasm would be enough, the words needn't be clever or witty, they needn't be anything spectacular, just enough to be deemed cruel. There would be no chance of her letting herself slip again and the distance between them could be kept suitable, comfortable and most importantly safe. But the ideal situation is rarely the desirable one, and judgement is especially open to being clouded in such instances.
Wesker almost immediately made his decision. It might not have been the right one, but he never saw things through his usually rational, sensible, logical eyes when it came to her, that was becoming rather evident. "Your right" he spoke slowly, as if the words were alien to him, "I can't give you answers though". She said nothing as he paused and breathed deeply before continuing "There was no real reason why they had to die, they just got caught in the crossfire, like a lot of people. I'd been given a job, a mission, and, as callous as it might sound; in my line of work you soon lose the idea that a person is an individual, as opposed to an object. If you think of them having a character, a personality, anything that would make them a human being, then your not Umbrella material. Even colleagues are no different; you have to be ready to kill them in an instance in order to cover any tracks to Umbrella, or to deal with betrayal. There is no exemption, no exception, no granted immunity, anyone and everyone are liable to be stabbed in the back, be they lover or nemesis. And I've had years of experience with Umbrella and people that work in all too similar ways to how it does. So when I led those people into the mansion I can't say I felt any trace of emotion, sentiment or regret. That's the closest I can give you to an answer Claire, it might not be the one you wanted, but it's the truth, and that's what you said you want. I'm not entirely sure whether it is better that there was no personal reason for the deaths I've caused or the drawing of people like you into the shadow world of Umbrella and its rivals, but that's how it is".
Any moral opinion that Claire had over what Wesker had told her, with an almost brutal honesty, remained unvoiced. When she did speak her voice was full of nothing but curiosity and, quite possibly, tinged with a suggestion of empathy. "You've never regretted anything you've done?" she spoke softly and slightly unevenly in pitch. The recipient of the question considered his next move thoughtfully; did he even want to enter this discussion with her? Opposite sides don't talk about things like regret and thus weakness, but then again where was the opposition? There was a truce being held, even if only barely, and the room was apparently in a state of neutrality, a vacuum from their normal relationship and attitude for the other, a haven if looked at in a certain way. "I think practically everyone feels some remorse, some sort of sorrow or, more likely, guilt in the beginning." Wesker finally said, avoiding any personal reply of his own, ".but it fades. Surely you can relate to some extent, you've killed countless zombies after all". "That's completely and entirely different, the person is already dead, and there is no pretence to keep up, because they are soulless creatures, devoid of any emotion or feeling". Claire replied automatically, she had somewhat foreseen that he might endeavour to approach her from that direction. "So relate how you feel when you kill a zombie to how I feel when I kill a *person*" Wesker just as quickly replied, making it clear to her that in his opinion there was no difference between the two.
"So you'd kill me without a second hesitation?" the question came out of no- where, Claire unable to comprehend why she had dared ask him. She blushed slightly, an action that was more than a rarity for her; due to the personal element that was now in the conversation (although like Wesker she convinced herself that it was, at most, an exchange of information, a simple Q&A). Wesker had to suppress the smirk; no. it was an indisputable smile, which assaulted his impassive features as he took pleasure in seeing her blush, even if he hadn't caused it. That precarious, unhealthy interest in her delicate fluster was to prove to have dire consequences for Wesker though, as it took his usually razor-sharp focus away from the current question. It was with his vigilance crucially too lax and neglected, that Wesker made his response without a second, or really first, thought. "I could never kill *you* Claire" he spoke with gentle, undeniably truthful, honesty. His mind was too cloudy with the alluring task of trying to *see* the residue heat of her blush rather than pay a great deal of contemplation into his words, or rather unconscious declaration.
It wasn't until he saw her face twist itself into an expression or pure, intense puzzlement that Wesker snapped out of his moment of weakness. He had to think, and fast.
***
A/n: Well another chapter finally written, I'm sure people gave up hope of an update long ago. Anyway, as always, any comments, views, criticisms, etc that you might have are greatly appreciated, be them via review, email or Instant Message.
Dan