"Gentle reader, may you never feel what I then felt! May your eyes never shed such stormy, scalding, heart-wrung tears as poured from mine. May you never appeal to Heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agised as in that hour left my lips: for never may you, like me, dread to be the instrument of evil to what you wholly love."
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
Her soft touches on his skin made him shudder.
Gentle caresses that made his heart flutter.
Eyes that stared into his, baring him bit by bit.
A voice that was so melodious...Except...She got the wrong name.
" Karl"
A four-lettered word. A noun. Probably the name of someone who was of German descent.
"Karl"
A name that, when he heard her moan the first time, shattered him.
"Karl"
With each thrust that he shoved, his heartbeat rose. His hands twitched, and his fingers trembled, almost making him lose his balance. His legs felt wobbly, like jelly, unable to support him. Lips trembling with the whisper from his own mouth. "Karl."
She hadn't realised that she got the wrong name.
Was it a mistake? A slip of the tongue? Or was it on purpose?
A red flag- no, a black flag. Danger. Betrayal.
No, it couldn't be right. If it was a big mistake, (Y/N) should have looked at him in shock or even realised it.
No, no. It was a mistake. Accidents.
Chris has always got the names of his rookies wrong during their training drills.
But he never fucked his rookies- they're not (Y/N), his partner and lover.
And who is Karl?
No. It must be a mistake. Maybe someone at work, a new friend perhaps?
She did look quite jolly today and (Y/N) has always loved making new friends.
Karl and Chris do sound almost alike, don't they? They both sound with a 'K' sound. She must have gotten it muddled up.
But who is Karl?
Chris stared at (Y/N) who was now sitting next to him, her head on his broad shoulder, texting someone.
Her friends, maybe. It could be Leon since the two of them bicker like idiots.
But...why Karl?
Why, after 4 years of their relationship, did she get the name wrong? She had never even mixed up her exes name with his.
Was Karl an ex? Did she even date a German person before? Why wouldn't she tell him?
Maybe it was a traumatic or a bad relationship. Perhaps she's trying to forget a bad relationship.
But if she is trying to forget, why did she moan his name? Not even say, or utter or shout, but moan.
Chris shook his head, forcing his doubts to vanish, but one question remained.
Who is Karl?
He looked at (Y/N). She is a beautiful woman, beautiful in every sense. Who wouldn't like her?
They met just after the Lanshiang incident, where Chris was going through a hard time. He had just lost several important people.
Piers. Finn. His entire team. His parents. The near-death experience of Jill.
Killing Wesker, the man he once respected. The acrid taste of betrayal.
(Y/N) came in then, working initially as his team's intel analyst and mission support. She quickly took a liking to the Captain. At the same time, he repeatedly pushed her away, not wanting to put her in a possibly dangerous situation or wanting any more guilt of losing more people.
He had lost enough already.
But the girl was adamant. Or foolish, perhaps. Chris never knew which, but he chose the former.
He must have gone for the latter.
She was like his salve, his rock and his confidant. A friend. An emotional comfort. A comrade. A partner. A lover.
Did she pity date him because he looked evidently sullen and closed off?
Chris' eyes slowly darted towards her dainty hands. So small. So delicate.
She used to always run her hands over his stomach and chest. Tangle her fingers in his hair.
But now, she barely touched him, occasionally giving him a peck or two.
"Hello, ironhead! I hope you're here." (Y/N) chuckled at Chris, her eyes glancing at him for a second.
Ironhead? What the hell is ironhead?
(Y/N) kept her phone aside and looked up at Chris with a small smile. Her hand gently traced his jawline, just for a jiffy.
"We should get back with the others. We've been gone too long."
Yes. They have been gone too long. For 30 fucking minutes only.
Chris nodded his head, his eyes still glued to hers.
"I will try and set up more of those devices in the Village. The wolf-creatures won't be out for now, so I can go in and put more of them." She said, peeling her sweaty and sticky body off his side, letting the cold air bite him.
Wolf-creatures. Village. Set up devices.
"You know, you've been over-working yourself. I can ask Tundra to-"
"That won't be needed. I rarely get to go on the field, Chris." Chris nodded.
It felt odd. She used to complain all the time about how they always got separated because of their work. Now when she gets the time, and he's ready to offer her a solution to spend more time with him, she doesn't want it.
"Alright then. Take Tundra anyway,"
"Chris, no-"
"Fine, take Lobo."
"What? Do you think those Lycans are going to attack me? Please." She sounded so cocky and smug. He was used to her cocky attitude, but she always kept it within the safety of either the HQ or their home. Never on the field. She was never reckless.
And did she just say Lycans?
"What are Lycans?" (Y/N) froze for a moment, a blink, and you miss the moment. She was quick to get back her composure.
"Well, I just overheard a Villager call it a Lycan." The lie would have worked brilliantly had he missed her frozen moment. The lie would have worked brilliantly had she not moaned out for Karl's name.
Lycan. Wolf. Village. Set up. Karl.
Karl Heisenberg.
Karl Heisenberg.
Miranda. Megamycete. Karl Heisenberg.
How did he not see the signs- No.
NO! There are no fucking signs. No. (Y/N) would never fall for a bioweapon and a bioterrorist. She fights them. She belongs to the BSAA. With him, with the Wolf Hound Squad-
Ironhead. Wolf Creatures.
"Karl"
"Karl"
"Karl"
"Chris!" (Y/N)'s voice pulled him out of his thoughts as he flinched. His eyes widened slightly, almost watery. His lips felt dry. His stomach felt sick and giddy. He felt light-headed.
Chris looked at (Y/N)'s face, her worry-stricken eyes and her slightly parted lips. His eyes trailed to her still bare stomach, where he saw minor scratches. Ones that can easily escape an average eye, but not his trained hawk-eyes. They weren't very red. But they were there. They weren't Chris' that's for sure. The man hardly had any nails.
"W-What" Chris pointed to (Y/N)'s stomach, his eyes staring at it with a growing haziness. "Happened there?"
(Y/N) let out a gentle questioning 'hmm' looking at the place he was pointing to. Her hands softly traced the area. "Ah, must have gotten it when I fell off or something-"
"Didn't you wear a vest?"
"At training, Chris."
Chris shook his head and stood up, slowly walking towards her. (Y/N) kept her neutral face on, trying her best to swallow down her bubbling anxiety.
"(Y/N). You never trained ever since we got to the Village." He held the curve of her waist with one hand and gently touched her scar with the other. "And this scar, it's warm. Fresh." He said, leaning into her face. "Who did this to you."
(Y/N) shook her head softly, whispering 'no one,' while her eyes betrayed her. Tears.
"Who is Karl?" Chris asked, his hands still firmly gripping her waist.
He knew who Karl was. But did he want to hear it from her?
"W-What? K-Karl?" (Y/N) stuttered lightly as she stared fearfully into Chris' steely eyes.
"You called me by his name today (Y/N)," Chris said, his voice laced with sadness and heartbreak.
It stung her.
His dejected voice stung her deeply, his dolour almost making the pain feel physical. But his pain was immense because now he lost a loved one not to death's dark wings but betrayal. Heartbreak. Disloyalty.
Judas kiss.
He was right.
It was Heisenberg indeed.
"Chris," She choked, cupping his cheeks and caressing circles into his skin. He didn't look into her eyes. He kept his gaze low, on the ground. Broken. Ashamed.
"Chris, please look at me," She cried. Chris shook his head and closed his eyes.
He wanted to be away from her. From everyone.
He wanted to push her away. Yet, he couldn't.
He wanted to shout at her. Yet, he couldn't.
He wanted to tell her it was over. Yet, he couldn't.
His hands were still clasped around her waist.
He couldn't let her go. He didn't want to leave her.
He didn't want to be alone, not again.
"I am so sorry," (Y/N) moved forward, her head buried in Chri's chest. His hands fell loosely by his sides as if he just lost his life.
In a way, he did.
(Y/N) kept crying. She kept saying sorry into his chest.
A part from him wanted to console her.
Pull her in an embrace.
Tell her all will be fine. All is forgiven.
But is that even possible?
The very fact that he had given her his love. She went to another, behind his back.
"I promise I won't do it again," Chris held (Y/N)'s shoulders firmly and pushed her gently. He looked at her.
"Why did you do it?"
"I don't know."
"Did he force you?" (Y/N) looked at Chris in shock. She shook her head.
"N-No. He didn't. It was consensual."
"Were you drunk?"
"No."
Consensual. In her right mind.
It wasn't even a honeypot game.
Lust.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Chris looked at her, his voice low and cold.
He sounded just like the day he was rotting away in that bar—the bar where Piers shook him out of his self-pity.
Lost himself in his misery.
Drinking down his agony.
"I didn't want to hurt you."
Chris held back a groan while he closed his eyes and scrunched his nose in growing irritation and anger.
"And this didn't hurt me?!" He raised his voice lightly, making the girl flinch. Never in a single fight in all the years of their relationship did (Y/N) ever flinch. "And after this, what?! You'd have hidden it away? A deep dark secret?"
(Y/N) covered her face in her hands, sobbing loudly.
It killed him to see her cry like that because of him.
He wanted to hold her. But could he bring himself to do that?
Can he live through this? Knowing that his lover had betrayed his trust?
No. It had to end.
If not for his sake, then for the sake of his mission. For his squad.
"You have two choices," (Y/N) put her hands down, looking at Chris with swollen red eyes. She nodded her head, urging him to continue. "Leave Heisenberg and continue working for us. Or leave us and go for Heisenberg."
"Chris. Karl was one time. He will never-"
"No, (Y/N). I am sorry. I can't." He turned away from her, putting his clothes on. "You can stay here. I'll shift by tonight." He sat on the bed, one hand running through his hair in frustration. "Whatever your choice is, I respect it. I won't hold anything against you."
(Y/N) walked towards him, kneeling and grabbing his hands. "Chris, please. Don't leave."
"I'll send Claire over to fetch my stuff." He said, his hands gently squeezing her smaller ones. (Y/N) shook her head, placing her face on his hands, feeling his rough skin on her soft face.
Chris cupped (Y/N)'s face and placed a tender kiss on her forehead, letting his lips linger over her skin, inhaling her scent one last time.
Her scent.
Her lovely scent. One that was now laced with Karl's.
"Take care (Y/N)," He said, gently placing her hands back on her lap and leaving the girl alone.
Chris walked towards the door. He looked at the photograph, a picture of (Y/N) and him.
The proposal. Happy. Cherished. Loved.
He looked back at the girl. She was still on the floor, drowning herself in guilt and misery.
He bit his tongue, forcefully biting down the 'I love you' that so badly wanted to escape from the tip of his tongue into the gloomy air of the room.
But he couldn't. And he didn't.
He turned away and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
"Damaged goods," Chris thought, looking at the reflection of him on the window.
Damaged goods.
Broken man.
Christopher Redfield.
