~ Wilted ~

You and I

November 1997, Arkly Lab, my room, Arkly Mountains, Outskirts of Racoon City

So I attacked one of my keepers.

I had expected some form of repercussion for my actions, the invisible Dr. Sife being now something of a mystery after our little altercation. I have no idea what had taken place after the events of forty-eight hours ago; the forced placement of an unmarked syringe in an unsuspecting pervert's throat, but surely I was to hear something of it eventually?

I had attacked a man, after all. Yet there was nothing.

The last two days had consisted of solitude and carefully planned meals. No one came in, I didn't come out. Perhaps they thought this in itself was a torture? But I was more than used to my own company, preferred it in fact. It was easier to cut through the noise of the farm, without the sheep bleating around you.

Being alone meant I had time to narrow down what could have possibly been in the syringe, and I had come to two possible conclusions.

One was of course, poison. Perhaps some new military grade weapon for Umbrella to sell to the highest bidder? Two, and the most likely, considering my own presence in the lab, some terrible virus linked to the Progenitor strain I myself carried.

Either way, it was likely Dr. Sife wasn't going to be walking around any time soon, and I couldn't help but feel hopeful of the fact.

A beep sounds outside my door, and it's been so long it takes me a moment to register that it's someone coming in. I scoot to the end of my cot, and pretend not to look surprised when Wesker arrives, his boots heavy on the tiled floor as he slowly enters my prison.

The door shuts behind him with a gentle hiss, and his lips twitch with amusement. "A little bird tells me, you haven't been playing nicely with the other boys and girls."

I glare, but I do not respond, watching as his shaded gaze casts itself lazily around the room. He pauses briefly on my uneaten dinner, and tuts.

"Starving yourself won't hurt us, you know." He murmurs mockingly, turning his attention back to where I sit. "What are you hoping to accomplish behaving like some sulking teenager? Is it that you're testing boundaries? Do you want me to ground you?"

I can feel my ire start to burn from the constant prodding, and I cross my arms as he casually pulls a chair up to reach the edge of my cot. He sits down, elbows resting casually on his knees. He looks at me.

"Well, Rose?"

"Well what?" I finally snap, the irritation too difficult to keep bridled. I fidget restlessly. "How do you expect me to be, when you disappear and leave me at the hands of a disgusting degenerate like Sife? Where's Birkin? Isn't he on hand to cover for you?"

I wasn't overly fond of the man, but he was a step up from a sex pest.

"Birkin is busy with his own projects. It is very rare you will find him here."

"Apparently he isn't the only one." I add accusingly, watching for a reaction. "Over a week you've been gone. Sife told me you have your own projects going on in the city. What's the matter, are your monsters not enough for you any more?"

Wesker smiles strangely. "Yes, well, he won't be telling you much else for the foreseeable future."

Thrown, I let the obvious side step of my accusation go.

"So… he is dead then?" I question quietly, surprised by the tiny flicker of guilt I feel in my belly.

Wesker tilts his head. "Do you care?"

"No." I lie. "But it would be nice to know what exactly he died of. Especially after you ordered him to inject me with the same stuff that likely killed him."

He waves me off. "Your lab results are clear. You have nothing to worry about, as I knew would be the most likely outcome."

"Most likely…" I repeat sarcastically. "It's nice to know my continued existence is such a high priority to you people."

"We are merely carrying out Spencer's orders, dear heart. It's nothing personal."

I scoff despite myself. Of course it is my Grandfather's orders that I have a new, potentially deadly concoction put inside of me. Who better to give it the green light, than the girl who cannot die?

God I hated him.

Sighing loudly, I get up and lean against the wall.

"You know, I've had people telling me it's not personal for as long as I can remember." I murmur, staring absently at a small crack in the ceiling. "It's difficult for a child not to take repeated modernised torture personally."

"You're not a child any more, Rose." Wesker reminds me pointedly, and I can here the patience beginning to fade from his tone.

Clearly he wasn't one for heart to hearts.

"No." I agree, a dark smile crossing my features. "And yet, I am continually treated like one."

I push myself off the wall, moving to sit on the edge of my nearby desk. Wesker watches me, but says nothing. Eventually he stands, retrieving the room's key card silently from his inner pocket.

He shakes his head. "Child or no, I cannot have you attacking my staff. Not when the work we do here is so important. I would like you to promise that it will not happen again."

I look at him, my gaze very serious. "You understand why I attacked your so called staff?"

"Why is not my concern. What is my concern, is ensuring that we achieve our goals here. Sife was an asset to our research team. I do not wish to lose any more advanced minds, simply because you haven't the self-discipline to control your outbursts."

I feel my face steel, and my fingers protest painfully as I curve them tightly over the desk's thick edge.

I smile, but I know it is a taught thing; a leer, and it takes every ounce of Wesker's so called self-discipline, not to launch myself at his stoic face.

"You're researcher, as you like to call him, was nothing more than a perverted pig, that got exactly what he deserved. If you decide to send any more of his kind into here without warning, then that is on you. Not me." I finish pointedly, and I wait silently for a reaction.

I do not get the one I am expecting.

"Would you like to see what happened to the little pig after you blew his house down?" He asks quietly.

I hesitate for a fraction longer than what would have flattered my previous outburst, and nod, drawn not only by macabre curiosity, but also a growing need to leave behind the same four walls since I had arrived at Arkly over a week ago.

I follow Wesker through the door, and down corridor after corridor, consistently watchful of my surroundings. By the look of things, I wasn't the only patient here. I saw the silhouette of others in hospital beds, drips, and screens framing them like cameras on a set. Strange cries echo behind us as we walk, and I am struck suddenly by an errant thought.

"Aren't you worried I might try to escape?"

This was the first time in a long time, I had been moved without guard or restraint.

Annoyingly, Wesker merely smirks. "No, my dear, I am not."

"Why?"

"Where would you go, Rose?"

He has a point, but I do not have time to linger on it as he guards me into a room with multiple lock functions. It is a small personal lab, a box of screens, and whiteboards. To my right there is a window, an observational point for the room next door, inside of which, a man appears to stand.

I look at Wesker. "Is that…?"

"See for yourself." He gestures lightly, and I can hear the mocking undercurrent to his tone.

Ignoring it, I edge slowly forward, not exactly sure I want to get any closer than I am. I reach the glass, and lightly place my hands against it, peering hesitantly inside.

There was no mistaking the tall thin figure now. It was Sife. Only it wasn't him as I'd known him before. His pale complexion had somehow caught a sickly blue tinge, veins like scars, crossing left and right over his exposed skin, like some obscure road map. His eyes roll back, and his body sags; a puppet whose strings were no longer taut.

I stare in abstract horror. "What the hell is wrong with him?"

Wesker is beside me, a small smile playing on his lips. "He is a page in the book of humanity's evolution." He replies cryptically, watching with amusement as Sife slowly drags himself towards a blood stained wall and begins to lick.

I fight the urge to gag.

"This isn't Evolution. This is… Hell." I breathe, unable to find a less dramatic term. I glance up at Wesker. "What is it, a virus?"

Wesker inclines his head. "The T-Virus to be exact. A modified strain of your Progenitor. You could argue, Rose, that none of this would have been possible without you. You should be proud of your contribution. I know I am."

I watch on as the infected Sife groans loudly at the overhead fluorescent, seemingly in anger, and I feel my stomach churn.

"No, I didn't want this." I note quietly, unable to tear my gaze away from the corpse-like visage of the Arkly researcher. "He would have been better off dead."

Wesker shrugs, indifferent to my disgust, and explains. "He is in a way. We are able to keep the body animated, basic levels of function; food, rage, but we cannot stop it from deteriorating."

I nod, but only because I don't know what else to do. "This is…I don't…. why have you done this? What purpose could this possibly serve?" I can here the agitation in my voice, and I tear myself away from the glass. I'd seen enough.

"It is a step, Rose." Wesker murmurs softly, ignoring my outburst. "An accidental fallout to a much greater goal."

I shake my head, the image of Sife's dead face scarred across on my retina. "Please. Please stop talking."

I don't want to hear any more. I want to go back to my room.

"Rose – "

"Don't call me that!" I snap, refusing to look back at him. "You've been doing it all evening. We're not friends."

"Oh, but we could be. We're very similar, you and I." He answers smoothly, and I can feel him stood behind me.

I whirl around.

"I am nothing like you!" I hiss, my thick locks clinging unhelpfully to my cheeks. Was I crying? "You torture and mutilate people and you call it Science. You are no different than my Grandfather. More monster than whatever that thing is in there!" I cry, pointing emotionally toward Sife's window.

Wesker considers me, and I cannot tell what he's thinking behind those ridiculously dark shades. He reaches up and gently smooths my twisted chocolate tendrils back behind my ears. I register that I should probably try and stop him, but then suddenly his lips are warm against my ear, and I freeze.

"I'm sorry, dear heart. But I'm afraid you are wrong." He murmurs cryptically, and I shiver despite myself.

"About what precisely?" I breathe, fighting to keep my voice even. His cheek brushes mine as he slowly pulls back, and I swallow hard. "About being like you, or you being like my Grandfather?"

The corners of his mouth twitch upwards, and he finally moves away. "If you have to ask, Rose, then now is not the time for this conversation."

My mouth opens, but no words come. I don't even have the energy to spare a sharp retort. When he gestures for me to leave the room, I simply follow, eager to get away from the living-dead man,

and the haunting thought that comes every time I look at his keeper.

Why did I allow Wesker to touch me?

R&R!

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Take care.