1 Sacrifices
Chapter 17: Reflections
Doctor Robert Lessing leaned forward and took another look into the microscope. His heartbeat quickened as his eyes confirmed what he had hoped. After months of exhaustive research, he had finally figured it out. Of course, whether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen.
He took a quick glance around the lab and was relieved to find himself alone. It wasn't uncommon for him to become so engrossed in his work that he barely took notice of anyone else's comings and goings. At this moment, however, he wanted complete privacy. Reaching for a notepad on the table next to him, he jotted down some information and tore the page off, tucking it into the breast pocket of his shirt.
He was the only one who knew the formula.
That realization was of little comfort to him in light of what had occurred just a few hours ago. One of his brightest technicians, Jeffrey Horowitz, had been brutally murdered, along with Ellen Ross, HCF's Head of Security. The story being told was that the young woman they had rescued from Umbrella had been responsible. After regaining consciousness, she had had some type of psychotic episode, most likely as a result of her abduction, and had attacked Jeffrey and Ellen in the hallway during her flight from the med lab. Wallace claimed he had discovered both employees lying dead in the corridor with their necks broken.
Robert didn't believe a word of it.
He knew exactly what Andrew Wallace…or rather Albert Wesker, was capable of, having witnessed some of the man's brutality first hand during his days at Umbrella. He was certain Wesker had killed them himself. The only thing the young scientist didn't know was why.
Perhaps the answer to that mystery lay with Jill Valentine. When he first learned of her impending arrival, he had recognized the name immediately. The contamination of the labs at the Spencer Estate had been the subject of numerous meetings within Umbrella's science division as a cautionary tale of the possible consequences of viral research.
The accident had been a public relations nightmare for the giant conglomerate, what with the rumors of infected employees turning into the walking dead. The company was desperate to put an end to the "wild stories" being told by Raccoon City's local authorities, and set out to do so by destroying the reputations of all those involved.
Most of the scientists he worked with had been following the story in the newspapers. There were several names that kept appearing in those columns, and Valentine had been one of them…along with Wesker, of course.
When the young woman was brought down to the lab, Wesker had pulled him aside to give him some instructions to follow. The man's demeanor had been almost gleeful at the prospect of having her in his custody and Robert had been completely unnerved by it. At first, he objected to keeping Valentine sedated, concerned for her health in light of what had been done to her by Umbrella, but Wesker had made it perfectly clear that if he didn't do as he was told, there would be dire consequences. Certainly, what had happened to Jeffrey and Ellen was proof of that.
Robert had tried to warn Ellen to stay away from Jill Valentine, though it was obvious she had ignored his counsel. He couldn't really blame her, though. She had a good reason to risk Wesker's wrath since he was using her daughter as a lab rat.
Christina had celebrated her eighth birthday only three weeks ago, and Robert wondered what would become of her now that both of her parents were dead. She was far from being an average child, and with her strange abilities, she could be very difficult to handle. Ellen had learned how to cope with her daughter, but other people had struggled to deal with the girl, including her own father, who was the one responsible for her condition.
Christina's father had been a top research scientist at Umbrella when he and Ellen Ross first met. Umbrella was in the process of building a new facility in Ohio when they hired an independent contractor to design a high- tech security system. Ellen was one of the consultants who handled the initial proposal to the multi-billion dollar client. After numerous discussions with some of the board members, she had been given complete access to the structure, which included a meeting with Samuel Gleason, the head of the newly formed research division known as White Umbrella.
The project required them to spend a great deal of time together and before long the two started having an affair. Shortly before the building was completed, Ellen discovered she was pregnant. Although very much in love, the young couple had no desire to get married, but they did agree to raise the child together. While both parents had demanding careers, they made every attempt to give their daughter as stable a home as they could provide.
As the years went by, Sam slowly became less interested in his family and more engrossed in his work. His cutting-edge research into DNA mutation had been instrumental in Umbrella's foray into bio-weapons research. He and another brilliant young doctor named William Birkin had introduced the idea of using a viral agent to enhance the physiology of the human body. Umbrella's board of directors were so impressed with the initial research data, they immediately channeled massive amounts of capital to fund the project. They knew the military would most certainly covet such a powerful tool. The concept of an army of super humans, once merely the subject of science fiction novels, could become a reality.
Soon after the two men began their work together, it became apparent that they had different ideas as to what direction their research should follow. While Sam focused on using the body's own chemistry to enhance its physical attributes, William remained convinced that only a virus engineered outside of the body could achieve the necessary physiological mutations they desired. After a series of disagreements, it was decided that the two men would pursue their work separately. Birkin was given his own lab, located in Oregon, while Gleason remained in Ohio and began searching for an assistant.
Robert Lessing's reputation in the field of biochemistry brought him to Sam's attention, and the scientist was eager to recruit him. He was barely out of medical school when Umbrella had vigorously courted him to work alongside their top researcher.
When Robert began working with Sam, he was not completely aware of the true nature of the other man's research. His own focus had been on the regeneration of muscle tissue in the human body, and the senior scientist had encouraged him to pursue it. The two men spent almost all of their time in the lab, working feverishly toward a goal, which Robert had only just begun to comprehend. It wasn't long before he found himself thoroughly immersed in Gleason's single-minded obsession into the alteration of human chemistry.
During the many hours they spent in the lab, Sam had spoken of Ellen and Christina often. Robert could tell the man had some regrets about putting his work above everything else in his life, but he also understood it, being of a similar ilk. Over time, he found himself somewhat envious of the other scientist's ability to have both his family and his work, even if one did suffer because of the other. He had never been very good at maintaining relationships.
After more than four years of study, Sam finally had a major breakthrough. He managed to create a drug that could repair damaged human cell tissue at a remarkable rate. The first test of the new drug had been performed on a man with a broken arm. He was given a small injection directly into the bone marrow and within several days, his arm was completely healed. Both men were overwhelmed with the initial results.
As the research study progressed, Sam was becoming increasingly paranoid about anyone having any knowledge of the drug's capabilities. He was determined to keep the company in the dark about his discovery as long as he could, knowing they would begin manufacturing it before he could complete his testing. When conducting experiments, he would only prepare it in single doses, just enough for one injection. And he made certain that the formula remained where he thought it would be safest, in his head.
Sam had relied on Robert to keep his secret with the understanding that, when the time was right, the junior scientist would be allowed access to the knowledge that his superior kept to himself. Both men agreed that thorough testing was needed to insure that the drug was safe.
But then, fate intervened.
Robert remembered vividly the night of the crash. Ellen had picked Christina up from day care and was heading home after a particularly long and stressful day. A brief storm had moved in and brought a torrent of rain with it. Poor visibility, wet roads and a fatigued driver had been the cause of the accident, according to the police report. The jersey barriers stretched across the median of the highway barely showed signs of distress, but Ellen's car had been completely totaled.
Amazingly, Ellen came through the accident with only a broken leg and a slight concussion. By contrast, Christina's injuries were far more serious. She had a multitude of internal injuries and was not expected to live.
When Sam received the call at the lab, he was so overwrought that Robert had to drive him to the hospital. When they arrived, Ellen was still unconscious and Christina was being prepped for emergency surgery. The doctors and nurses were extremely distressed when Sam refused to allow it, screaming at everyone to leave him alone with his daughter. Although her situation was grave, everyone tried to convince him that surgery was her only hope. Even Robert had tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen. Eventually, they did as he asked and left him alone, holding Christina's tiny hand.
It was considered a miracle when the child regained consciousness less than twenty minutes later.
The hospital staff was stunned at the incredible speed with which the young girl was recovering, and clamored to present a reasonable explanation. Some thought the original diagnosis must have been wrong, but the emergency room doctors insisted that the child was near death. By some strange coincidence, the ER lab tests went missing, which only deepened the mystery. Robert had only to see the expression on Sam's face when he entered Christina's room to know the truth.
They had been preparing for a test in the lab that very evening.
Robert removed the slip of paper from his shirt pocket and stared at it, thoughtfully. He reached out to pick up a lighter from the table and walked over to the sink in the corner of the room. As he watched the flame lick the edges of the paper, he realized that his friend had been right.
Better to keep it in his head.
***
"I don't believe it."
Wesker sighed inwardly. Although initially amused by Carlos Oliviera, the man was beginning to annoy him. "What you choose to believe is of no consequence to me." He removed a small key card from his pocket.
"Why haven't you notified the police?" Leon questioned, as the three men reached the end of the corridor.
"And what would you have me tell them?" Wesker queried. "That a woman we rescued from an evil corporation bent on world domination ran amuck in our secret, underground laboratory?"
Leon wanted to wipe the sarcastic grin off the man's face. "I suppose not."
Carlos shook his head. "Jill isn't a murderer."
Wesker swiped the card through an electronic reader and turned the doorknob. "Tell that to my two dead employees." He motioned for the two men to enter the room.
Leon and Carlos exchanged a knowing look. It was obvious that Wallace was lying to them. The last time they saw Jill she was in no condition to accost anyone. And she most certainly would not have killed someone in cold blood.
As they entered the room, Leon spotted another figure near the opposite wall. A woman was seated with her back to them, gazing through a darkened window. She flipped her long, blonde hair over her left shoulder as she rose from her chair and turned to greet them.
"What the—"
Leon spun around as he heard Carlos' voice, just in time to see the man fall to the floor. Wesker was standing over him with his arm raised, a vicious smile on his face.
"I've been wanting to do that ever since I met him."
Leon immediately swung his fist at the taller man, only to find empty air as his other arm was bent back, painfully, behind him. A large forearm pressed against his windpipe, effectively choking off the curse he was about to utter.
"Be a good boy, Kennedy, and I won't break your fucking neck," Wesker snarled.
Leon continued to struggle, but found he couldn't free himself from the man's vise-like grip. He was beginning to feel lightheaded when another voice interrupted his rapidly clouding thoughts.
"Albert, you promised you wouldn't hurt him."
Albert?
Wesker slackened his grip, slightly, allowing Leon to gasp for air. He finally pulled it away completely. Leon leaned forward and coughed, still trying to catch his breath.
"I promised I wouldn't kill him," Wesker corrected, pushing the other man aside. He walked over and placed a booted foot in the middle of Carlos' back. "But, you didn't say anything about him." The young mercenary didn't move. "He's been a real pain in my ass."
"Later," the blonde chided him. "We have more important business at the moment."
Leon's angry gaze flickered between the two people standing on either side of him before looking down at Carlos. "What the hell is going on here?"
The woman held her hand out to Leon. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Kennedy."
Leon stared, incredulously, at her offered hand. "You're kidding, right?" He could sense a shift in her demeanor as she lowered her arm.
"Let's try to be civil, shall we?" She gestured towards a chair near the window. "Please sit down."
Leon hesitated, trying to gauge his chances against his boss. The man had the fastest reflexes he had ever seen, not to mention his amazing strength. Leon had been completely immobilized in a matter of seconds. He knew the man could easily have killed him. An image of Ellen and Jeffrey suddenly popped into his head as he stared back at the man he knew as Andrew Wallace.
"You killed them," he said softly.
Wesker grinned at him before reaching out and placing his hand on the younger man's shoulder, giving him a firm shove.
"Sit down," he ordered.
Leon did as he was told, still trying to comprehend what was happening. His eyes drifted toward the darkened window as a knot began to form in his stomach. His mind kept playing over the name…Albert, and then it struck him. He turned his face up to the man hovering over him.
"Albert Wesker." It was a statement.
Wesker's grin broadened. "You're two for two."
Leon looked over at the woman. "And who the hell are you?"
"Watch your mouth," Wesker warned as he smacked Leon on the back of the head
The blonde regarded him with a chilly gaze. "My name is Alexia Ashford."
Leon stared at her in shock. Claire had told him that Alexia was dead. Chris had killed her…or at least some mutated version. So how could she possibly be here?
"That's impossible," he responded.
Alexia laughed, softly. "Obviously, it's not."
"But, I was…" Leon paused. "I heard you were dead."
"You were misinformed, Mr. Kennedy. By Claire Redfield, no doubt." Alexia watched him, carefully. She didn't know the extent of his relationship with Claire, but if he knew of her supposed demise in Antarctica, than they were closer than she had originally believed. Sherry Birkin was a link between the two, but maybe not the only one.
"I don't know anyone by that name."
Alexia walked over to stand by the window. "Really? I find that odd." She touched a small button on the wall, exposing a control panel. "Because you seem to have a mutual friend." She flipped a switch and the room beyond the window became clearly visible.
Leon rose from his seat, moving slowly, as his eyes focused on a familiar face. His voice was barely a whisper. "Sherry?" He took a step toward Alexia. "If you've hurt—" His threat was cut short as a fist slammed into his jaw. He hit the window and slid to the floor.
"Do that again and I'll kill you."
Leon tasted blood in his mouth and turned his head to spit on the floor before glancing up at Wesker. He rubbed his jaw, gingerly, and climbed to his feet.
"I can assure you that the girl is unharmed." Alexia stared through the glass, watching the two young children. "To be honest, I've been enjoying watching her." She glanced over at Leon. "She's very bright."
Leon clenched his fists as he eyed Wesker, cautiously. Sherry seemed fine, physically, and for that he was grateful. But, that didn't explain what she was doing here. He knew Claire would never have given Sherry up without a fight. Then, the realization hit him. He turned his full attention to Alexia.
"This is about Claire, isn't it?"
The statuesque blonde raised one neatly manicured eyebrow. "So now you're on a first name basis with someone you don't know?"
"Where is she?" Leon demanded.
"Claire Redfield is none of your concern," Alexia stated coolly.
"The hell she isn't!" he shouted. "What did you do to her?"
Alexia pinned him with her sharp gaze.
"At the moment, I think you should be more concerned about the child," she responded.
Leon felt helpless as he turned back to the window again. He suddenly noticed there was another child in the room. Although he couldn't hear them talking, he immediately recognized the animated expression on Sherry's face. A subtle grin touched his lips as he watched her, knowing she was probably trying to convince the younger girl to help her engineer an escape. She had more fortitude than Leon did at her age, even more than he had now, and he knew where she drew a lot of that strength…
…from Claire.
He closed his eyes for a moment as his mind conjured up an image of Claire's face. Unfortunately, their reunion had been short-lived, and most of their time had revolved around the situation with Jill's father. There had been so much he wanted to tell her; so much he wanted to know about her. They had only managed a few precious moments alone, and he had finally coaxed her into telling him some of what happened to her while she was gone, but he knew she was holding something back. He could see it in her eyes. Those beautiful, soulful, compelling eyes…
God, how he loved them.
Her.
Leon opened his eyes, seeing a faint trace of his own reflection staring back at him. How could he save them both? He didn't know Claire's whereabouts, or if she was even still alive, for that matter. Still there was something in the way Alexia spoke of her that made him believe that she was. And if so, then she most certainly would be here. For now, he decided the priority had to be Sherry. He knew Claire would agree with him. He looked over to find Alexia still staring at him.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.
***
Claire lifted her head up, slowly, only to discover that doing so made her headache even worse.
"Shit."
She decided to lie back down and assess her situation from the prone position. When she regained consciousness the first time, she could do little more than look at the ceiling. Now, she was completely awake, and had the blinding pain to prove it.
Taking a cursory look around the room, she was surprised to find it completely devoid of anything. No furniture, no torture devices, no people. Not exactly what she had expected to see when she awoke. Of course, she hadn't really been expecting to wake up, so that was a plus.
The room itself was brightly lit, which was only adding to Claire's misery. Feeling the cold, tiled floor under her back, she shifted onto her side to get a better view. With her ear pressed to the floor, she could hear a faint humming noise. The sound began to lull her as she lay there listening, the pounding of her headache fading with each passing moment.
"Claire."
The voice echoed, loudly, causing Claire to sit up too quickly. She made an involuntary sound as a sharp pain pierced through her head. Gripping her forehead with one hand, she used the other to push herself onto her knees.
"Take your time. I'm sure you must have a rather nasty headache."
Alexia.
The intercom's volume was turned up to an annoying level.
"So much for 'no torture devices'," Claire muttered, as she climbed to her feet.
"Pardon?"
A touch of feedback made Claire wince.
"Where's Sherry?" she called out, not really sure where to direct her voice.
"I think a more important question is…where are you?"
Claire looked around trying to locate a door. The walls appeared to have the same tiling as the floor. Everything was black and white, reminding her of a chessboard. A series of large light fixtures hung down from the vaulted ceiling.
"Just tell me if she's okay!" Claire shouted in frustration.
"My dear Claire," Alexia continued, ignoring her request. "I'm about to give you a rare opportunity."
The decibel level was beginning to make Claire's head pound…again.
"Alexia…" she growled.
"I think you've made some poor choices in your life, Claire." More feedback. "Now, it's time to examine yourself more closely."
Claire clenched her fists, tightly. This crazy bitch was playing a game with her, and she refused to go along with it. She was about to offer a scathing retort when something caught her attention.
The humming had gotten louder.
The noise she had only been able to hear while lying on the floor was now growing steadily. She had been so focused on Alexia that she hadn't noticed it. Now, as she listened, closely, the floor began to vibrate.
"What the hell is that?" She looked around frantically, scanning the room for signs of a way out. Instinctively, she trotted over to the nearest wall and began running her hands along the cool surface in an effort to locate an opening. The pattern of the tile made it almost impossible to find, which was obviously the intent.
A peculiar grating sound made Claire turn to look at the center of the room. She watched with a mixture of fear and fascination as a small section of the floor began to rise. As the platform climbed higher, her eyes fixed on what was coming up beneath it; a large rectangular container, possibly made of glass. It reminded her of a coffin.
She immediately shook off that thought and waited until everything stopped moving. From her position near the wall, she was too far away to see what was inside, not that she wanted to anyway. Her heart was beating wildly as she imagined some horrible creature would burst forth from it and attack her. She stood perfectly still for several minutes, her muscles tense with anticipation.
Nothing.
"Aren't you curious?" Alexia's voice cut through the silence, giving Claire a start.
"To see another mutated Ashford?" the brunette asked, keeping her gaze fixed on the large object. "I'll pass."
"Sarcasm. Another poor choice, Claire. But, not to worry. We'll just add it to the long list of your character defects that I'm going to correct."
"Correct this, you psycho." Claire made an obscene gesture and spun around, resuming her hunt for a doorway. As she moved along the wall, she continued to glance over her shoulder at the center of the room. She picked up her pace, knowing she was running out of time.
Something flashed out of the corner of her eye.
Claire looked over to see a light had turned on above the container. The interior was still bathed in shadow, but there was just enough backlight to illuminate its contents…
A silhouette.
"Oh Jesus," Claire breathed.
She knew this was it. There was nowhere to run. She had no weapons at her disposal. Her brother was not going to rush in and save her. She would have to face whatever Alexia had in store for her, alone. But, she would not do it quietly.
"Whatever it is your planning, Alexia, just get on with it," Claire challenged, trying to add a touch of bravado she didn't feel.
Silence.
"Alexia!" she shouted toward the ceiling. A loud clicking noise made Claire jump. It had come from the container. Her midnight blue eyes focused on it once more. The suspense was driving her crazy. She knew that was exactly what Alexia wanted.
Before she even realized what she was doing, Claire had already taken several steps toward the center of the room. As she drew closer, she could see that whatever was inside appeared to be no larger than she was. Her curiosity finally overrode her common sense and she suddenly found herself standing only a few feet away. As she tried to peer through the darkened glass, she noticed one of the panels was slightly ajar. She stepped forward, cautiously, reaching out to pull it open. As her hand moved the glass panel aside, she froze.
"No," she whispered.
Claire Redfield found herself staring at her own face.
***
Well, I bet you saw that one coming! Man, this has to be the longest I've ever gone between updates. Wouldn't it be nice if we could spend our time doing the things we want to do, instead of the things we must do? Responsibilities really suck, sometimes. To anyone who might still be reading, I sincerely apologize for the delay…AGAIN! But, hang in there, people. I will get there. To be honest, I'm already thinking of a sequel (I'll just duck under my desk until everyone is done throwing their keyboards). And before anyone gives me any grief about self-insertion, I just want to say that I am not a scientist. ;-) That should be obvious by my lame attempt to explain anything related to human biology. Remember: it's not called fiction for nothin'. Later, folks.
Chapter 17: Reflections
Doctor Robert Lessing leaned forward and took another look into the microscope. His heartbeat quickened as his eyes confirmed what he had hoped. After months of exhaustive research, he had finally figured it out. Of course, whether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen.
He took a quick glance around the lab and was relieved to find himself alone. It wasn't uncommon for him to become so engrossed in his work that he barely took notice of anyone else's comings and goings. At this moment, however, he wanted complete privacy. Reaching for a notepad on the table next to him, he jotted down some information and tore the page off, tucking it into the breast pocket of his shirt.
He was the only one who knew the formula.
That realization was of little comfort to him in light of what had occurred just a few hours ago. One of his brightest technicians, Jeffrey Horowitz, had been brutally murdered, along with Ellen Ross, HCF's Head of Security. The story being told was that the young woman they had rescued from Umbrella had been responsible. After regaining consciousness, she had had some type of psychotic episode, most likely as a result of her abduction, and had attacked Jeffrey and Ellen in the hallway during her flight from the med lab. Wallace claimed he had discovered both employees lying dead in the corridor with their necks broken.
Robert didn't believe a word of it.
He knew exactly what Andrew Wallace…or rather Albert Wesker, was capable of, having witnessed some of the man's brutality first hand during his days at Umbrella. He was certain Wesker had killed them himself. The only thing the young scientist didn't know was why.
Perhaps the answer to that mystery lay with Jill Valentine. When he first learned of her impending arrival, he had recognized the name immediately. The contamination of the labs at the Spencer Estate had been the subject of numerous meetings within Umbrella's science division as a cautionary tale of the possible consequences of viral research.
The accident had been a public relations nightmare for the giant conglomerate, what with the rumors of infected employees turning into the walking dead. The company was desperate to put an end to the "wild stories" being told by Raccoon City's local authorities, and set out to do so by destroying the reputations of all those involved.
Most of the scientists he worked with had been following the story in the newspapers. There were several names that kept appearing in those columns, and Valentine had been one of them…along with Wesker, of course.
When the young woman was brought down to the lab, Wesker had pulled him aside to give him some instructions to follow. The man's demeanor had been almost gleeful at the prospect of having her in his custody and Robert had been completely unnerved by it. At first, he objected to keeping Valentine sedated, concerned for her health in light of what had been done to her by Umbrella, but Wesker had made it perfectly clear that if he didn't do as he was told, there would be dire consequences. Certainly, what had happened to Jeffrey and Ellen was proof of that.
Robert had tried to warn Ellen to stay away from Jill Valentine, though it was obvious she had ignored his counsel. He couldn't really blame her, though. She had a good reason to risk Wesker's wrath since he was using her daughter as a lab rat.
Christina had celebrated her eighth birthday only three weeks ago, and Robert wondered what would become of her now that both of her parents were dead. She was far from being an average child, and with her strange abilities, she could be very difficult to handle. Ellen had learned how to cope with her daughter, but other people had struggled to deal with the girl, including her own father, who was the one responsible for her condition.
Christina's father had been a top research scientist at Umbrella when he and Ellen Ross first met. Umbrella was in the process of building a new facility in Ohio when they hired an independent contractor to design a high- tech security system. Ellen was one of the consultants who handled the initial proposal to the multi-billion dollar client. After numerous discussions with some of the board members, she had been given complete access to the structure, which included a meeting with Samuel Gleason, the head of the newly formed research division known as White Umbrella.
The project required them to spend a great deal of time together and before long the two started having an affair. Shortly before the building was completed, Ellen discovered she was pregnant. Although very much in love, the young couple had no desire to get married, but they did agree to raise the child together. While both parents had demanding careers, they made every attempt to give their daughter as stable a home as they could provide.
As the years went by, Sam slowly became less interested in his family and more engrossed in his work. His cutting-edge research into DNA mutation had been instrumental in Umbrella's foray into bio-weapons research. He and another brilliant young doctor named William Birkin had introduced the idea of using a viral agent to enhance the physiology of the human body. Umbrella's board of directors were so impressed with the initial research data, they immediately channeled massive amounts of capital to fund the project. They knew the military would most certainly covet such a powerful tool. The concept of an army of super humans, once merely the subject of science fiction novels, could become a reality.
Soon after the two men began their work together, it became apparent that they had different ideas as to what direction their research should follow. While Sam focused on using the body's own chemistry to enhance its physical attributes, William remained convinced that only a virus engineered outside of the body could achieve the necessary physiological mutations they desired. After a series of disagreements, it was decided that the two men would pursue their work separately. Birkin was given his own lab, located in Oregon, while Gleason remained in Ohio and began searching for an assistant.
Robert Lessing's reputation in the field of biochemistry brought him to Sam's attention, and the scientist was eager to recruit him. He was barely out of medical school when Umbrella had vigorously courted him to work alongside their top researcher.
When Robert began working with Sam, he was not completely aware of the true nature of the other man's research. His own focus had been on the regeneration of muscle tissue in the human body, and the senior scientist had encouraged him to pursue it. The two men spent almost all of their time in the lab, working feverishly toward a goal, which Robert had only just begun to comprehend. It wasn't long before he found himself thoroughly immersed in Gleason's single-minded obsession into the alteration of human chemistry.
During the many hours they spent in the lab, Sam had spoken of Ellen and Christina often. Robert could tell the man had some regrets about putting his work above everything else in his life, but he also understood it, being of a similar ilk. Over time, he found himself somewhat envious of the other scientist's ability to have both his family and his work, even if one did suffer because of the other. He had never been very good at maintaining relationships.
After more than four years of study, Sam finally had a major breakthrough. He managed to create a drug that could repair damaged human cell tissue at a remarkable rate. The first test of the new drug had been performed on a man with a broken arm. He was given a small injection directly into the bone marrow and within several days, his arm was completely healed. Both men were overwhelmed with the initial results.
As the research study progressed, Sam was becoming increasingly paranoid about anyone having any knowledge of the drug's capabilities. He was determined to keep the company in the dark about his discovery as long as he could, knowing they would begin manufacturing it before he could complete his testing. When conducting experiments, he would only prepare it in single doses, just enough for one injection. And he made certain that the formula remained where he thought it would be safest, in his head.
Sam had relied on Robert to keep his secret with the understanding that, when the time was right, the junior scientist would be allowed access to the knowledge that his superior kept to himself. Both men agreed that thorough testing was needed to insure that the drug was safe.
But then, fate intervened.
Robert remembered vividly the night of the crash. Ellen had picked Christina up from day care and was heading home after a particularly long and stressful day. A brief storm had moved in and brought a torrent of rain with it. Poor visibility, wet roads and a fatigued driver had been the cause of the accident, according to the police report. The jersey barriers stretched across the median of the highway barely showed signs of distress, but Ellen's car had been completely totaled.
Amazingly, Ellen came through the accident with only a broken leg and a slight concussion. By contrast, Christina's injuries were far more serious. She had a multitude of internal injuries and was not expected to live.
When Sam received the call at the lab, he was so overwrought that Robert had to drive him to the hospital. When they arrived, Ellen was still unconscious and Christina was being prepped for emergency surgery. The doctors and nurses were extremely distressed when Sam refused to allow it, screaming at everyone to leave him alone with his daughter. Although her situation was grave, everyone tried to convince him that surgery was her only hope. Even Robert had tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen. Eventually, they did as he asked and left him alone, holding Christina's tiny hand.
It was considered a miracle when the child regained consciousness less than twenty minutes later.
The hospital staff was stunned at the incredible speed with which the young girl was recovering, and clamored to present a reasonable explanation. Some thought the original diagnosis must have been wrong, but the emergency room doctors insisted that the child was near death. By some strange coincidence, the ER lab tests went missing, which only deepened the mystery. Robert had only to see the expression on Sam's face when he entered Christina's room to know the truth.
They had been preparing for a test in the lab that very evening.
Robert removed the slip of paper from his shirt pocket and stared at it, thoughtfully. He reached out to pick up a lighter from the table and walked over to the sink in the corner of the room. As he watched the flame lick the edges of the paper, he realized that his friend had been right.
Better to keep it in his head.
***
"I don't believe it."
Wesker sighed inwardly. Although initially amused by Carlos Oliviera, the man was beginning to annoy him. "What you choose to believe is of no consequence to me." He removed a small key card from his pocket.
"Why haven't you notified the police?" Leon questioned, as the three men reached the end of the corridor.
"And what would you have me tell them?" Wesker queried. "That a woman we rescued from an evil corporation bent on world domination ran amuck in our secret, underground laboratory?"
Leon wanted to wipe the sarcastic grin off the man's face. "I suppose not."
Carlos shook his head. "Jill isn't a murderer."
Wesker swiped the card through an electronic reader and turned the doorknob. "Tell that to my two dead employees." He motioned for the two men to enter the room.
Leon and Carlos exchanged a knowing look. It was obvious that Wallace was lying to them. The last time they saw Jill she was in no condition to accost anyone. And she most certainly would not have killed someone in cold blood.
As they entered the room, Leon spotted another figure near the opposite wall. A woman was seated with her back to them, gazing through a darkened window. She flipped her long, blonde hair over her left shoulder as she rose from her chair and turned to greet them.
"What the—"
Leon spun around as he heard Carlos' voice, just in time to see the man fall to the floor. Wesker was standing over him with his arm raised, a vicious smile on his face.
"I've been wanting to do that ever since I met him."
Leon immediately swung his fist at the taller man, only to find empty air as his other arm was bent back, painfully, behind him. A large forearm pressed against his windpipe, effectively choking off the curse he was about to utter.
"Be a good boy, Kennedy, and I won't break your fucking neck," Wesker snarled.
Leon continued to struggle, but found he couldn't free himself from the man's vise-like grip. He was beginning to feel lightheaded when another voice interrupted his rapidly clouding thoughts.
"Albert, you promised you wouldn't hurt him."
Albert?
Wesker slackened his grip, slightly, allowing Leon to gasp for air. He finally pulled it away completely. Leon leaned forward and coughed, still trying to catch his breath.
"I promised I wouldn't kill him," Wesker corrected, pushing the other man aside. He walked over and placed a booted foot in the middle of Carlos' back. "But, you didn't say anything about him." The young mercenary didn't move. "He's been a real pain in my ass."
"Later," the blonde chided him. "We have more important business at the moment."
Leon's angry gaze flickered between the two people standing on either side of him before looking down at Carlos. "What the hell is going on here?"
The woman held her hand out to Leon. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Kennedy."
Leon stared, incredulously, at her offered hand. "You're kidding, right?" He could sense a shift in her demeanor as she lowered her arm.
"Let's try to be civil, shall we?" She gestured towards a chair near the window. "Please sit down."
Leon hesitated, trying to gauge his chances against his boss. The man had the fastest reflexes he had ever seen, not to mention his amazing strength. Leon had been completely immobilized in a matter of seconds. He knew the man could easily have killed him. An image of Ellen and Jeffrey suddenly popped into his head as he stared back at the man he knew as Andrew Wallace.
"You killed them," he said softly.
Wesker grinned at him before reaching out and placing his hand on the younger man's shoulder, giving him a firm shove.
"Sit down," he ordered.
Leon did as he was told, still trying to comprehend what was happening. His eyes drifted toward the darkened window as a knot began to form in his stomach. His mind kept playing over the name…Albert, and then it struck him. He turned his face up to the man hovering over him.
"Albert Wesker." It was a statement.
Wesker's grin broadened. "You're two for two."
Leon looked over at the woman. "And who the hell are you?"
"Watch your mouth," Wesker warned as he smacked Leon on the back of the head
The blonde regarded him with a chilly gaze. "My name is Alexia Ashford."
Leon stared at her in shock. Claire had told him that Alexia was dead. Chris had killed her…or at least some mutated version. So how could she possibly be here?
"That's impossible," he responded.
Alexia laughed, softly. "Obviously, it's not."
"But, I was…" Leon paused. "I heard you were dead."
"You were misinformed, Mr. Kennedy. By Claire Redfield, no doubt." Alexia watched him, carefully. She didn't know the extent of his relationship with Claire, but if he knew of her supposed demise in Antarctica, than they were closer than she had originally believed. Sherry Birkin was a link between the two, but maybe not the only one.
"I don't know anyone by that name."
Alexia walked over to stand by the window. "Really? I find that odd." She touched a small button on the wall, exposing a control panel. "Because you seem to have a mutual friend." She flipped a switch and the room beyond the window became clearly visible.
Leon rose from his seat, moving slowly, as his eyes focused on a familiar face. His voice was barely a whisper. "Sherry?" He took a step toward Alexia. "If you've hurt—" His threat was cut short as a fist slammed into his jaw. He hit the window and slid to the floor.
"Do that again and I'll kill you."
Leon tasted blood in his mouth and turned his head to spit on the floor before glancing up at Wesker. He rubbed his jaw, gingerly, and climbed to his feet.
"I can assure you that the girl is unharmed." Alexia stared through the glass, watching the two young children. "To be honest, I've been enjoying watching her." She glanced over at Leon. "She's very bright."
Leon clenched his fists as he eyed Wesker, cautiously. Sherry seemed fine, physically, and for that he was grateful. But, that didn't explain what she was doing here. He knew Claire would never have given Sherry up without a fight. Then, the realization hit him. He turned his full attention to Alexia.
"This is about Claire, isn't it?"
The statuesque blonde raised one neatly manicured eyebrow. "So now you're on a first name basis with someone you don't know?"
"Where is she?" Leon demanded.
"Claire Redfield is none of your concern," Alexia stated coolly.
"The hell she isn't!" he shouted. "What did you do to her?"
Alexia pinned him with her sharp gaze.
"At the moment, I think you should be more concerned about the child," she responded.
Leon felt helpless as he turned back to the window again. He suddenly noticed there was another child in the room. Although he couldn't hear them talking, he immediately recognized the animated expression on Sherry's face. A subtle grin touched his lips as he watched her, knowing she was probably trying to convince the younger girl to help her engineer an escape. She had more fortitude than Leon did at her age, even more than he had now, and he knew where she drew a lot of that strength…
…from Claire.
He closed his eyes for a moment as his mind conjured up an image of Claire's face. Unfortunately, their reunion had been short-lived, and most of their time had revolved around the situation with Jill's father. There had been so much he wanted to tell her; so much he wanted to know about her. They had only managed a few precious moments alone, and he had finally coaxed her into telling him some of what happened to her while she was gone, but he knew she was holding something back. He could see it in her eyes. Those beautiful, soulful, compelling eyes…
God, how he loved them.
Her.
Leon opened his eyes, seeing a faint trace of his own reflection staring back at him. How could he save them both? He didn't know Claire's whereabouts, or if she was even still alive, for that matter. Still there was something in the way Alexia spoke of her that made him believe that she was. And if so, then she most certainly would be here. For now, he decided the priority had to be Sherry. He knew Claire would agree with him. He looked over to find Alexia still staring at him.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.
***
Claire lifted her head up, slowly, only to discover that doing so made her headache even worse.
"Shit."
She decided to lie back down and assess her situation from the prone position. When she regained consciousness the first time, she could do little more than look at the ceiling. Now, she was completely awake, and had the blinding pain to prove it.
Taking a cursory look around the room, she was surprised to find it completely devoid of anything. No furniture, no torture devices, no people. Not exactly what she had expected to see when she awoke. Of course, she hadn't really been expecting to wake up, so that was a plus.
The room itself was brightly lit, which was only adding to Claire's misery. Feeling the cold, tiled floor under her back, she shifted onto her side to get a better view. With her ear pressed to the floor, she could hear a faint humming noise. The sound began to lull her as she lay there listening, the pounding of her headache fading with each passing moment.
"Claire."
The voice echoed, loudly, causing Claire to sit up too quickly. She made an involuntary sound as a sharp pain pierced through her head. Gripping her forehead with one hand, she used the other to push herself onto her knees.
"Take your time. I'm sure you must have a rather nasty headache."
Alexia.
The intercom's volume was turned up to an annoying level.
"So much for 'no torture devices'," Claire muttered, as she climbed to her feet.
"Pardon?"
A touch of feedback made Claire wince.
"Where's Sherry?" she called out, not really sure where to direct her voice.
"I think a more important question is…where are you?"
Claire looked around trying to locate a door. The walls appeared to have the same tiling as the floor. Everything was black and white, reminding her of a chessboard. A series of large light fixtures hung down from the vaulted ceiling.
"Just tell me if she's okay!" Claire shouted in frustration.
"My dear Claire," Alexia continued, ignoring her request. "I'm about to give you a rare opportunity."
The decibel level was beginning to make Claire's head pound…again.
"Alexia…" she growled.
"I think you've made some poor choices in your life, Claire." More feedback. "Now, it's time to examine yourself more closely."
Claire clenched her fists, tightly. This crazy bitch was playing a game with her, and she refused to go along with it. She was about to offer a scathing retort when something caught her attention.
The humming had gotten louder.
The noise she had only been able to hear while lying on the floor was now growing steadily. She had been so focused on Alexia that she hadn't noticed it. Now, as she listened, closely, the floor began to vibrate.
"What the hell is that?" She looked around frantically, scanning the room for signs of a way out. Instinctively, she trotted over to the nearest wall and began running her hands along the cool surface in an effort to locate an opening. The pattern of the tile made it almost impossible to find, which was obviously the intent.
A peculiar grating sound made Claire turn to look at the center of the room. She watched with a mixture of fear and fascination as a small section of the floor began to rise. As the platform climbed higher, her eyes fixed on what was coming up beneath it; a large rectangular container, possibly made of glass. It reminded her of a coffin.
She immediately shook off that thought and waited until everything stopped moving. From her position near the wall, she was too far away to see what was inside, not that she wanted to anyway. Her heart was beating wildly as she imagined some horrible creature would burst forth from it and attack her. She stood perfectly still for several minutes, her muscles tense with anticipation.
Nothing.
"Aren't you curious?" Alexia's voice cut through the silence, giving Claire a start.
"To see another mutated Ashford?" the brunette asked, keeping her gaze fixed on the large object. "I'll pass."
"Sarcasm. Another poor choice, Claire. But, not to worry. We'll just add it to the long list of your character defects that I'm going to correct."
"Correct this, you psycho." Claire made an obscene gesture and spun around, resuming her hunt for a doorway. As she moved along the wall, she continued to glance over her shoulder at the center of the room. She picked up her pace, knowing she was running out of time.
Something flashed out of the corner of her eye.
Claire looked over to see a light had turned on above the container. The interior was still bathed in shadow, but there was just enough backlight to illuminate its contents…
A silhouette.
"Oh Jesus," Claire breathed.
She knew this was it. There was nowhere to run. She had no weapons at her disposal. Her brother was not going to rush in and save her. She would have to face whatever Alexia had in store for her, alone. But, she would not do it quietly.
"Whatever it is your planning, Alexia, just get on with it," Claire challenged, trying to add a touch of bravado she didn't feel.
Silence.
"Alexia!" she shouted toward the ceiling. A loud clicking noise made Claire jump. It had come from the container. Her midnight blue eyes focused on it once more. The suspense was driving her crazy. She knew that was exactly what Alexia wanted.
Before she even realized what she was doing, Claire had already taken several steps toward the center of the room. As she drew closer, she could see that whatever was inside appeared to be no larger than she was. Her curiosity finally overrode her common sense and she suddenly found herself standing only a few feet away. As she tried to peer through the darkened glass, she noticed one of the panels was slightly ajar. She stepped forward, cautiously, reaching out to pull it open. As her hand moved the glass panel aside, she froze.
"No," she whispered.
Claire Redfield found herself staring at her own face.
***
Well, I bet you saw that one coming! Man, this has to be the longest I've ever gone between updates. Wouldn't it be nice if we could spend our time doing the things we want to do, instead of the things we must do? Responsibilities really suck, sometimes. To anyone who might still be reading, I sincerely apologize for the delay…AGAIN! But, hang in there, people. I will get there. To be honest, I'm already thinking of a sequel (I'll just duck under my desk until everyone is done throwing their keyboards). And before anyone gives me any grief about self-insertion, I just want to say that I am not a scientist. ;-) That should be obvious by my lame attempt to explain anything related to human biology. Remember: it's not called fiction for nothin'. Later, folks.