Author's note: Once again I update. Thank you to my reviewers! * Huggles them * more reviews would be greatly appreciated. My muse thrives on reviews like cookies wif peanut butter. Keep feeding and the story keeps continuing. I feel so squishie special!
*Cough * sorry, I've been watching "The Hours" lately. On with the show!
Disclaimer: I don't own it-you've guessed that. Bully for you.
"Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get,
it's what you are expected to give -- which is everything."
-Anon.
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1986
Annette dug herself into a corner-a terraced corner with a nice view of the forest. When the world seemed perpetually screwed and the people perpetually lost-it was nice to get out in nature…
To get back to our roots.
She sighed and pulled out her book, a thick dog-eared copy of "A clockwork orange." And began to peruse the pages. She liked Dystopian novels, stories about worlds where people revolved in an endless sea of nothingness searching for meaning distracted her from her own life and its woes. A world where the monsters were fakes, and not real-made all the difference.
She breathed in the scent of the forest.
And yet…it seems like the world doesn't deserve our ridicule… she put down the book and studied the distant tree tops-the bustling city that was a tiny speck on the horizon, It doesn't deserve our malice, our anger. Who are we so angry with? She could think of several people in her own life that fit that description.
Yet they were just people being people. That was what it came down to-the fact that Irene and Wesker and…even Birkin were just doing what they knew how to do best. And she stood among them.
Grandma Cass…if you could see me now. Annette LeDour mistress of monsters, Annette LeDour-horrible succubus, Annette LeDour…
"Annette?"
Annette whirled about difficult to do in the cramped surroundings.
William Birkin stood at the very edge of the terrace. He'd exchanged his lab coat for a regular shirt, and he wore jeans instead of his work pants. He looked almost…normal.
"What the hell do you want?" he had every reason to be angry with her. She had been angry with jack for doing the exact same thing she'd done. If he wanted to break up with her that was fine-Wesker could be easily persuaded to…
"I wanted…to say I'm sorry." William sat on the wood-afraid to approach her, his mannerisms like that of a whipped dog.
Annette frowned and brushed her short blond hair over her shoulder, staring at him with hard green eyes.
"What do you have to be sorry for?" He was so arrogant! He assumed that every problem in the world was his province, every heart ache his machination, "I was the one who made the mistake. I was the one who was…weak."
I was Disloyal. For the first time in my life that's actually mattered with you.
"Wesker was right. You should stay away from me. From…everybody." He stared downward at a collection of small pebbles on the terrace, "Especially with this whole monster thing…I want to keep you safe."
"I can keep myself safe you arrogant ass." She faced him, "And as for you…."
"As for me." His voice was cold, "I'm the monster everyone thinks I am. Listen to Wesker, listen to your friends that seems to be the only good thing you can do." His eyes looked upward, right into hers, "LeDour."
"Oh please! All I want is a straight answer!"
"Me too." Birkin laughed bitterly, "I dislike dealing in subterfuge and intrigue. If there's one thing I'd like to be able to trust you enough to do-it's speak plainly about things."
"When we first met. I-" Annette Through down the book. It tumbled to the edge and hung precariously before falling twenty or thirty feet to the forest floor below.
"Shit." Annette stared down after it, "Shit."
"What Happened?" Birkin stepped cautiously foreward, "Why did you throw your book over the side?"
"I didn't throw it over the side!" Annette muttered, "I was talking to you and I tossed it down angrily-there's a difference." She stuck her nose in the air-then directed it downward at where her book lay below, "Damn it…"
"I'll get it." Birkin stared over the edge, "Its not that far."
"You'll get yourself killed."
"No I won't."
The Terrace was little more then a plank-tacked to the roof of the house. It was far away from the helicopter pad and other mansion requirements-and nobody had been able to remember who put it there. Nearby-a fantastic old sentinel tree stood watch-shielding the radiology labs (that were also on this level) from human eyes.
Birkin-grabbed the tree.
Annette watched in fascination as he shimmied down the larger part of the trunk easing him along by grabbing branches and finding the right footholds. He reached the bottom, leapt down, and grabbed her book.
"Here!" He held it up to her-as if offering it to some goddess, "Come get it."
"What?" she was 24 years old-she did not go climbing around in trees for her health, "Bring it back to me!"
"No!"
Her smile mirrored his.
She reached a hand up and tentatively grabbed one of the larger branches. The wood was old-worn under her palms. She stepped onto a smaller branch-that bent precariously before she found her footing.
"That's it!" Birkin's voice was small, "Now climb down!"
Easy for you to say. Annette thought, pissed that arrogant bacteria Birkin-her boyfriend of two weeks-could climb like a fucking monkey.
She reached for another branch.
This one was different; it was hard and brittle with a solid root. She grabbed it tightly and swung her weight over to another smaller branch- lower then her previous footing.
"Keep coming!" Birkin's voice seemed father away as she receded from the mansion's protective walls, "Come on, Keep coming! You can do it!"
Could she do it?
She took it slowly, reaching for one branch and then another. The sun was climbing low in the skylights in the mansion were beginning to flick on. There would be guards posted in the lower levels watching for whatever it was-making sure that it didn't come back-
Put that away. Her mind whispered like the wind in the tree around her, There's no lab, no work-there only here and now.
The woods took on an especially wonderful scent as she reached the last leg of her journey. Birkin stood next to the tree, hands behind his back-eyes focused on her and her progress. Jack would have made jokes-who knows what Wesker would have done…only he…
Only Birkin would have waited for me. She felt her foot touch the solid base of the tree, Only he-
She lost her footing and stumbled backward screaming. She felt her body connect with another-and the two went spiraling onto the grass.
She rolled for a minute-laughing-her body entangled with his-before she came face to face with the purple autumn evening and the warm dark familiar smell of the forest.
"You did well." Birkin was behind her, his arms around her body, "Really well. Better then I did when I first made the climb."
Annette pushed herself away from him, "Why…why did you make me do that?" he was always daring her-pushing her. In the labs, in life, with the tree…
Birkin looked confused, "I did nothing of the kind. All I did was tell you. You made the decision to climb down."
"But I didn't want to. I wanted-I wanted to-"
I didn't want to shame you.
Birkin was looking at her with his blue eyes-like the morning glory that intertwined the deeper trees in the forest.
Before she knew what she was doing-she was laid in the grass by a gentle hand-and she knew nothing more.
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Irene's room
Irene lay back onto the soft pillows and stared at the detailed canopy above her.
"I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier." Wesker appeared in the doorway like a serpentine shadow, "My dear."
Irene stared at her husband-her hair artfully jostled across the collection of lavender pillows. Her eyes were gentle-as she regarded the man she loved.
"Its alright. I'd wait for years for you, my dear." Irene laid a hand across her breast having changed into her sleeping clothes, "I was so tired from my flight, I thought I'd take a little rest before coming to see you."
"Its good that you did." Wesker crossed the room, stepping slowly across the carpet; "I've been setting guards below in the lab."
"To keep your people safe." Irene nodded, "You're always concerned about keeping people safe."
"About that-"
"I know." Irene held up a hand, "About Annette."
Wesker did not bother to ask how his wife knew that he had slept with another woman. There was something…urethral about Irene and what she saw. She was delicate-yet with a hard unyielding side to her as well.
"Do I owe you an apology?" he looked uncomfortable, "It was a spur of the moment issue."
Irene regarded him with her eyes, "You are a man, and you have a man's needs. I can accept this."
"I'm afraid to ask how you knew about it." Wesker sat himself next to her gingerly, not wanting to disturb her gossamer exterior, "You always seem to know what I do-or what your boss does. Its like you can see through people."
"Anybody can see through people." Irene reached a hand up, caressing his face, "It just takes a practiced eye and a keen knowledge of human nature."
"Knowledge that I've never possessed." Wesker chuckled, "Pity, I'd be good in internal services if I did."
Irene inclined her head, "You would."
"Why do you stay with me?" Wesker asked.
For a moment his veneer slipped away and he was almost as boyish and uncertain as his friend who lay outside in the grass. It was hard to forget that the two gentlemen had come from the same past-with no one to miss them unless they broke out of their shells and asked someone to.
"Because I love you. Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get, it's what you are expecting to give-which is everything."
"You were never one to quote people at me Irene." Wesker held his wife close, desiring nothing but the safety of her arms, "Why would anyone be willing to give himself or herself so completely to someone?"
Irene's voice was a whisper in his ear that seemed the whispering of the wind itself, "Because that's what love is."
Wesker said nothing.
"It's simple. Why would the earth give herself so completely to her children? Why does the postman give himself over to giving others good news, good tidings? Why does the photographer give himself to capturing other people's happy moments?" she paused and smiled up at Wesker-night deepening outside.
"Why would William Birkin give himself so completely to his work?"
"They want something?" Wesker was confused. Outside the old tree began to rattle against the windows, "Everybody wants something.
"No. They give themselves because they find their purpose. They find their meaning, their calling. Some save, some destroy, some create. This is the way of the world."
"If that's Birkin's meaning I feel sorry for him." Wesker laughed out loud, "To devote his life entirely to his work-god, that poor sad man."
"At least he has a meaning." Irene's marble skin went cold, "Unlike you. You're restless."
"No I'm not." Albert Wesker backed away from his wife. He crossed the lavender carpet. The walls were covered with faded flowers. They looked like something from Wes Craven.
Damn Spencer! Damn him and his creepy mansion.
The wind whistled outside. Irene seemed at home amongst the lavender bedspread and sheets, a marble ghost.
"You're a wolf. A restless wolf without a pack, they made you that. You told me about how much you think Spencer chose you and Birkin for a purpose. Perhaps he did."
"No…you-Irene stop." His voice was cold, "Just stop it alright?"
"As you wish." Irene lay back, "I think I'll rest some more." She laid her marble limbs back on the bedspread and sighed, breathing in the must and decay of the sepulchre that was the mansion, the house, the room
His life.
He walked forward to the bed again and lay down beside his wife.
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Forest.
"Its so beautiful." Annette lay back and stared at the trees, the canopy of night pulled over the two of them and the entire world like a great blanket.
"It is."
And so are you.
Annette turned to him-leaves in her short blond hair making her seem like a nymph or dryad who lay under the trees, "You were telling me about Dr. Marcus."
Birkin swallowed, "It's so beautiful out here-I don't want to talk about him. Please Annette."
"If you want me to trust you. You have to tell me." She laid a hand on his chest, "I won't hate you."
Yes you will. You'll run to Wesker again, great stinking self assured fool that he is. And I'll be left alone with my daemons.
"William, darling…" Annette lay her head against his chest, in perfect love and trust, "I'm asking you…please…"
"When I was a kid my father read me this poem." He pushed her off his chest, his hand lingering on her cheek, "By Poe. "Spirits of the Dead" or some such thing. I was maybe seven-eight maybe. The second stanza of the poem described Dr. Marcus perfectly:
Be Silent in that solitude, Which is not loneliness-for then The spirits of the dead who stoodIn life before thee are again
In death around thee-and their will
Shall overshadow thee: be still.
Birkin finished the poem in a single breath-taking careful note of each line, "It was like he was trying to escape from some kind of ghost-something he'd done in another life that he hadn't been forgiven for. His ghosts were all around him and Spencer made it worse I think. He'd spend all his time in the lab at the management training faculty working." He sighed, "I don't normally recite poetry about people who I hated."
" He sounds like you." Annette teased. She silenced herself when she saw the look Birkin gave her-full of grief and despair.
"He was. A lot like me I mean." Birkin looked down at his feet, "He was the first to start experimenting with actual people-with actual living human beings." He sighed, "A lot of my colleagues disappeared. Stupid rumors about monsters that got you if you were bad-that sort of thing. We were just kids."
"You were just kids." Annette lay on her hands in the twilight, "It must have been hard knowing your friends were…dying." She had seen a man die once. He'd lit himself on fire during Mardi gras. It didn't seem…real until her grandmother had covered her eyes and told her to look away from the strange float that was screaming.
She sighed and twisted over onto her back, looking up at him.
"Before long the order came through to terminate him." Birkin said, "We were ordered to replace him-so we had to go with the team to make sure that the job was…done correctly."
Annette frowned, "You were there."
"Yes."
She tried to imagine what that must have been like. Marcus's transgressions had to have been covered up-the company couldn't let it slip that they had a psycho in their midst-it would mean lost funding from their contributors…
What contributors? This company was funded by two people-two "Lords" what kind of people would fund something like this?
She shivered and suddenly wondered if it had been wise to accept that man's offer two years ago.
"Anyway. We assassinated him. Well not us-a team of well-placed operatives broke into his labs and shot him while he was working. We came in to make sure…he was dead." The plan had been for Wesker to finish the job if the commandos hadn't taken care of it and for William to continue on with his work.
All of Dr. Marcus's work.
"Was he dead?"
"The last thing I heard him say was my name." Birkin drew his knees up under his chin, "I was-fifteen maybe at the time." He sighed, "Wesker laughed about it afterwards. I couldn't laugh…I was too-excited."
Annette nodded, "You got to continue on with his work. History will absolve you. You've come so far…"
"Yes." William said, "I have come far." He looked at her-his eyes glowing in the evening that was descending faster now, "I was disgusted with myself after this occurred however. I watched the man who had been my mentor die with such satisfaction…"
He remembered the day vividly.
The way Marcus had looked up at him-blood pouring from multiple wounds. His beloved leeches surrounding him-feasting upon his flesh.
And how he'd laughed.
I will take over your research. William looked away from Annette, Well I did. Where has it gotten me? Nowhere. But it had felt so good to watch the man who had killed his colleagues, who was inferior-the old generation-
It felt good to watch him die.
"What scares me most is the…satisfaction I felt when he died. I knew I'd be able to do a better job then he did. I knew it and I wished him dead."
Annette examined him. She'd felt the same during medical school-it was the natural and healthy desire to win that was causing these feelings.
I wish I could say something to him that would make him feel better. She thought, as she hugged him tightly, something that would make him-
"The mansion!"
Annette blinked, "Beg Pardon?"
"The mansion! We've been out here for hours!" night had settled completely, the mansion's lights burning like an oasis in a black desert, "Come on! We've got to get inside!"
"How?"
"There's a service entrance around the back." Birkin said, "We can get in if we dig. Come on!"
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Author's note: yay! Chapter five! Kind of a cliffhanger and for that I apologize. Chapter six is on the horizon-and it looks like I may be starting work! Yahoo!
Btw- ignore the whole "poetry thing" Birkin kinda has a soft side. This entire chapter was supposed to be about how love is really about giving rather then getting. Something I Think a lot of people don't get.