Summary: Sarah has had reacquiring nightmares for several months, all in which John is killed by a Terminator from the future. With her paranoia getting the best of her, Sarah leaves Charley and takes John away before heading to Raccoon City, unaware of the danger they would face there.

Disclaimer: Resident Evil belongs to Capcom.© and Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles belongs to FOX Network. I make no profit from writing this and am only doing it because it's fun and enjoyable.

Pairings: Undecided

Rating M- For Language and Violence. Expect Blood, Gore, and Lots of Swearing.

//-/Author Note/-//

So second chapter is up and running for your pure enjoyment. I have recently just overcome a deadly case of writer's block and am back, better then ever! Well okay, maybe I gained a few since my last update…

That, and I have recently purchased an Xbox 360 for my younger brother, who seems unable to understand the phrase 'in small quantities'…

Anyway, read and enjoy the chapter! Another author note is on the bottom, but nothing big.

Chapter 2- Getting Started

Emmy's Diner; 9:45 AM, May 11th, 1998...

Sarah Connor placed the plate of food in front of her two customers before making her way back behind the counter and into the kitchen, fully aware of the leering looks both men were throwing in her direction.

It had been approximately two weeks since the Connor's arrival into Raccoon City, and she'd be lying if she had said things were going better then she could have hoped. In fact, it seemed far worse then normal. Sure, being the new folks in town was bound to draw in some stares, maybe a few questions and greetings, but that's about it. She would act joyful, maybe a little confused on her surroundings, asking where obvious locations were at and such, and try to make friends, or pretend to at least. John would go to school, head down, and act the typical angst teenage boy that seemed so prevalent nowadays. He'd make no friends, keep to himself, and more importantly, stay alive. It was the story of their lives, for both of them.

And now, it seemed somebody decided to have some fun and fuck with it.

Once such fuckup is when Sarah had the unpleasant pleasure of meeting Brian Irons, Chief of the Raccoon City Police Department. She took one look at him and immediately took a strong dislike for the man. Arrogant, bigoted, he fit the exact definition of a corrupt cop. Hell, he probably was the reason the saying was even invented! And what's more, the man after finding her in the diner, or stalking her is she wanted to brutally honest, wouldn't stop coming over. Sure, business was slightly better now because more and more officers now started to swing by for a quick bite, or at least that's what the old man, the owner of this fine establishment, had said.

Truth be told, Sarah didn't give a shit either way. What got on her nerves was the fact that the man could not, for the life of him, take a freaking hint. And being a cop didn't help matters as she was sure he knew her address and would no doubt swing by her house and she wouldn't be able to say a thing about it. Not if she wanted some bullshit charge put on her and give the man an excuse to touch her.

She shuddered at the thought.

After all, if the Federal Government could charge her for murder while knowing one of their own shot and killed one of the countries leading computer experts, then why can't a short, fat, miserable excuse for a man do the same?

And to add to her ever growing agitation and worries, John wasn't having an easy time, 'staying under the radar'.

Apparently, while his inability to talk with anyone or share his thoughts, (by her request) he had been targeted by a group of school bullies whom had taken his attitude of that of arrogant punk. His first day home from school had Sarah spending a good few hours patching up a few open cuts and covering up some nasty bruises.

To his credit, he didn't take it lying down, and stated smugly that he was sure that he had broken one of the kid's noses and possibly fractured one of their wrists.

Sarah had to choke back a laugh at that. With the things she had been teaching John the last four years, those kids were lucky to get off with just that. Unfortunately, things had gone from bad to worse within the next two weeks.

John's beatings had started to become daily, the teachers turning a blind eye on the incidents. In fact, they had the nerve to blame John for the alterations, stating more or less that her lack of parenting was the cause of John's atrocious behavior. Apparently, the injuries that John had given in return were a lot more then a broken nose.

And she was pretty sure that the school's lack of action had nothing to do with the fact that the kid's parents had money, and lots of it.

To that end, she had begrudgingly instructed John to avoid his torturers, and if he was cornered, to run. He was not, under any circumstances, to fight back, as much as it pained her to say it. Against a Terminator or police officer, John was to run, with or without her. For a bunch of street punks, it was all fair game. It put all the training she had given him to proper use, allowing him to stretch his muscles. Made him realize that he doesn't need his mother to protect him all the time.

And it all became a utter and total waste. All for the benefit of a few brats who'd much sooner run home and have their parents solve their problems other then facing them head on.

Sarah broke from her thoughts as she saw another group of three men enter the diner before plastering on a fake smile and going towards them, notepad in hand, ready to take their orders.

For their sakes, they better keep their eyes and hands to themselves.

Raccoon City High School; 10:05 AM…

John winced slightly as sat in his assigned seat in the middle of the room. He had just had a recent run-in with his 'torturers', or so they dubbed themselves, back out in the hall. He was pretty sure that he had a few new bruises to go with his old ones. That, and a few of his old cuts had reopened slightly. To make matters worse, they had attacked him whilst he was at his locker, and the assholes had thrown all of its contents around the hall, forcing John to have to gather them up before throwing them in his locker hastily before making his way to class, barely making it seconds before the bell rang.

He noted vaguely as he was being stared at on all sides of the classroom, murmurs floating around as several pointed towards him, some in malicious humor, others in pity. It sickened him. Half the students in the school found his beatings as some sort of amusement while the other half pitied him for them. Neither side did anything to help, and instead would just look on, not lifting a single finger or helping hand when everything was said and done. Not even the teachers helped, not unless things started to escalate.

And he would be the one who ended up taking the blame.

It was times like this that he really wondered if humanity was worth saving from killer machines in the future.

Currently, John was waiting patiently for class to begin, glancing at his teacher as he put his notes on his desk in a neat stack.

Tall, lanky, and no doubt wearing a toupee of some sort, stood John's Economics teacher, Mr. Kudo. Of Japanese heritage, and being one of the few teachers being of another race other then Caucasian, he had on a dull yellow long-sleeved shirt with a bright red tie secured around his neck. For pants, he had a pair of kaki slacks and brown dress shoes. His face was heavily wrinkled, with several blemishes around his face. His eyes were small and beady, and amplified a hundred fold by the large rectangular glasses that he wore.

What John learned on the first day of class was three things. One, this man couldn't talk English for shit. Everything he said was laced heavily with his Japanese accent, making it hard for John to understand what was coming from his mouth. Second was that the man was freaking pervert. He had caught the man more then once eyeing up several of the high school girls in the school, and discovered upon breaking into his desk, several porno magazines in the man's bottom drawer, underneath tons of meaningless files and documents. Lastly, like all the other teachers in the school, the man did absolutely nothing when it came to the bullying John was forced to endure.

Sensing his stare, Mr. Kudo glanced him momentarily before putting his head down just as quickly. John saw the tiniest amount of remorse on the man's face before it was schooled into a neutral expression.

Good. That meant he saw the fresh cuts and reopened ones present on his face then.

After the first week of school, John had stopped bothering to covering up his wounds, not able to find the time in doing so. Even though the teachers knew of his situation, that wasn't an excuse as to being late to class.

Bastards.

So John no longer bothered to tend to them, at least in school. He had for the first week gone to the school paramedic, but after almost daily visits, the middle aged woman had grown tired of them had asked rather snidely what he was doing that involved getting so many cuts. Evidently, she was a bit of gossip, and heard the rumors of John being a 'bad seed'. To make matters worse, she had added fuel to the fire, only making his situation worse. It didn't help that her nephew happened to be one of the bullies. Particularly the one whom had his nose broken curtsey of John's fist.

He was starting to wish that he had hit the bastard harder. Or at least broken something else to go with his nose. Like his jaw.

Breaking from his thoughts, John pulled his notebook from his bag, biting back a hiss of pain as the cut on his hand started to sting in protest. It was deep, at least two inches, and bleeding rather badly. He got it when his 'torturers' had slammed his locker door on his hand as he was trying to put his stuff away. And to make matters worse, it his dominant hand too.

To his credit, John didn't so much as flinch. He had suffered through worse.

Much worse.

But that still didn't been that the cut hurt like a proverbial bitch. He did however let out an aggravated sigh which turned into a wince as he tried to scowl at his hand. He forget about the large bruise on his temple and cut over his eye, which hurt whenever he tried to make any sort of facial expression. He glanced at the clock, realizing that it was barely fifteen after ten, and that he still had another five hours before school ended.

Fucking joy.

Glaring at the blackboard, John didn't bother to try and write down what was being written on the board, his hand already throbbing in pain from the mere thought of the action. Instead, he settled to lying on his desk and just stare off into space, already anticipating the more pain he was going to go through when he got home and got a hold of the cleaning alcohol in the medicine cabinet.

He felt his eyes dropping when he felt something slam on his desk. Shooting up instantly, much to the class's amusement, John found himself staring at a slightly livid Mr. Kudo.

"No sleeping in my class."

John restrained the urge to spew every curse word he knew, in Spanish and English, at the man. He couldn't even write for crying out loud, and the teacher, (though he can't really call writing a bunch of notes on the blackboard, saying, "Copy that down and do questions 1-12 on page 203 in your textbook." as teaching) had the nerve to tell him to pay attention? Was he that blind or was he just stupid? Both maybe?

John luckily didn't have to dignify the man with an answer, as the fire alarm started to blare. Grabbing his bag hastily, John made his way outside towards the emergency exits, the class following his actions a second later.

Hopefully, this would be one of those rare occasions that the fire alarm went off because the school was really on fire.

Raccoon City Police Department; 10:10 AM…

Sarah Connor was pissed.

No, she was beyond pissed. She fucking furious.

Not even minutes into her service of the three men did they stand up abruptly, guns blazing as they fired several shots to the ceiling, calling for everyone to go down on their hands and knees. Sarah naturally followed the request, not wanting to endanger any lives. That, and there were about four cops in the diner, one of which being the Chief. How bad could things get?

She mentally berated herself for the question as things steadily went from bad to worse. Apparently, all of the officers were off duty, so none had any form of weaponry on them. The only thing they carried on them were their badges, using that more then anything else to force their way into the diner and achieve good service.

Irons, the blowhard, had dived underneath his table, hands over his head, his fat ass shaking as he let out a few whimpering whines and prayers to whatever divinity that existed out there.

Coward.

Then, to her immediate surprise, one of the men had the ordacity to pull her to her feet, the barrel of his weapon, a Beretta, burying itself to her temple, before he threatened to spill her brains all over the walls if somebody so much as moved an inch.

She had been in a hostage situation before, usually as the one taking the hostages, and she knew how things went. Use the individual as shield before making your getaway, letting the person go free once you were sure you made your escape.

That didn't mean you get to cope a feel while you were at it. That, and grind your pelvis against your hostage's backside. Apparently, the man didn't get the memo. It looked like Sarah was going to have to remind him.

Painfully.

She had first lashed out with her elbow, slamming it into her captor's chin, knocking him backwards. Fumbling from the unexpected blow, Sarah pivoted her weight, swinging herself around, her knee raised before slamming it between the man's legs.

His scream of anguish immediately raised a soprano, his howl turning to a high pitched shrill, gaining the attention of the two other would be burglars.

She immediately adjusted her weight to the side, swinging herself around her former captor, her arm securing itself around his neck, her hand reaching for the sidearm within the waist band of his pants. The man had long ago dropped his Beretta to the ground, leaving him utterly defenseless.

His consorts immediately brought their attention around to her, guns raised. Upon seeing the situation that their friend was in, they both hesitated for only a second, unsure on whether or not to shoot, seeing the possibility of hitting him.

That was all the time Sarah needed.

By the time either of them were able to get their bearings straight, Sarah had already fired three rounds, one hitting the man closest to her on the right in the kneecap, shattering the joint and muscles as he went down to the ground, a scream of pain ripping free from his throat. The other two rounds hit the last of the crooks, slamming into his right shoulder and shin respectively. By this point, several of the off duty officers had finally gotten to their feet, pinning the men down, grabbing their weapons and aiming them back at them. The one she still had her arm wrapped tightly around was still a sobbing mess from the knee kick she had administrated to him. She put him out of his misery with a blunt strike to the back of the head, knocking him out cold.

Not even some five minutes after the thugs were knocked unconscious did Irons finally crawl from the underside of the table. He surveyed the area for only a second before barking out orders to the civilians and fellow officers alike, immediately taking charge of the situation.

It pissed her off to know that the man did nothing to help with the burglars, but would undoubtedly try and take credit for the whole event. While not one for being recognized for heroic acts, Sarah wasn't about to let an idiot such as Irons have his ego inflated, especially when it looked like no one else was going to do anything to point out that the man was an incompetent idiot.

She didn't know how it happened exactly, but a few words had eventually left her in the last place she wanted to be. In the back of a R.P.D. police cruiser, with a pair of handcuffs bound tightly on her wrists. Apparently, she was being charged for some bullshit of firing a weapon without a permit or some other crap.

And that's where Sarah Connor, aka Sarah Gale, currently found herself. Sitting alone in an interrogation room in the R.P.D., waiting for the asshole known as Brain Irons to get his miserable fat ass back in and release her.

Either that, or at least give her the satisfying privilege of giving him a real reason to have her locked up. Preferably one that would give the phrase 'police brutality' a whole new meaning.

Just as that last thought crossed her mind, the door opened.

Sarah looked up, an angry glare settling on her expression as she expected to be greeted by the putrid face of the Chief of Police. She was decently surprised when instead of Irons, a tall man, standing around 6¢0² with slicked back blonde hair, wearing a dark blue short sleeved undershirt with emblem of S.T.A.R.S on the sleeves, black fatigue pants, and a black Kevlar tactical vest. His eyes she noted were obscured from sight by the pair of sunglasses he wore. His whole demeanor spoke volumes of power and authority. Sarah immediately picked out that this man was not to be trifled with at all, if ever.

The man gave her a scrutinizing gaze, one that couldn't help but shiver slightly at. It felt as if the man was analyzing her, like some lab rat trapped in a maze.

He didn't introduce himself. Instead he merely took the seat in front of her before opening a folder that until that moment, Sarah didn't even notice.

"Sarah Gale. Thirty-two years old, single, mother of one, with no previous criminal records, no parking tickets or outstanding fees. Recently moved here from California, Los Angeles, only two weeks ago, correct?"

Not waiting for her to answer, the man continued.

"You have a son, one John Gale is it? Fourteen years old, a freshmen at Raccoon City High School. Suffering from bullies by the names of Thomas Richmond, William Mansfield, and Michael Peterson, if I'm not mistaken."

Sarah was shocked at that piece of information. Though she knew that John was bullied, he hadn't once given the names of the culprits, leaving them to be anonymous. How did this man find out?

Her surprise must have registered on her face as the man lifted his head to look at her from the protection of his sunglasses before stating more then asking, "I can assume you didn't know? Kids these days…taking on burdens they shouldn't even bare…"

Sarah stiffened at that. With John's face in her mind's eye, Sarah couldn't help but think how close he was to the truth of the matter.

And for whatever reason, Sarah was sure that this man knew exactly how close he was to that truth.

Before he could continue reading from the file, which in reality was only one sheet of paper, Sarah cut in and growled, "You're trying to make a point right? Well get to it then. In handcuffs or not, I still have to put food on the table."

The man's gaze hardened, his brows frowning, the temperature in the room dropping several degrees. " Very well then Ms. Gale. You have no military background or former work in law enforcement, yet you held a gun expertly and performed army standard melee moves. By this file that was found on you, Sarah Gale should not be able to hold herself in a hostage situation, let alone incapacitate three armed men."

He slammed the folder shut was a snap, and Sarah felt a slight bit of trepidation as he pulled out a second folder underneath the first one. She noted wearily that this one was much larger than the previous folder.

Flipping it open, the man went through several of the pages within its confines, not even sparing Sarah a glance until he flipped the folder over, pushing it towards her line of sight.

"Sarah Connor on the other hand, matches the combat expertise that you, Sarah Gale, exhibited today. Thirty-two years of age, served in South America with a renegade guerilla conformant, wanted by the FBI for the murder of Miles Dyson, a researcher at Cyberdyne Systems that was bombed not a few days following her escape from the mental institution, Pescadero. The warrants for her arrest are, but not restricted to, murder, attempted murder, armed assault & battery, armed robbery, assault & battery, domestic terrorism, kidnapping, arson of a United Stated government property and property used in interstate commerce. An impressive feat for a woman who used to work as a waitress, wouldn't you agree?"

Closing the folder, the man looked at Sarah, and she was sure he noted the panicked look in her eyes.

"I could go on, but I'm sure you catch my drift."

Sarah nodded numbly, but managed to gather the courage to ask, "So you're going to arrest me or what?"

It was this that the man managed a smile, though it seemed slightly malevolent in nature.

"No Ms. Connor, I am not going to arrest you. While such a record would give one the initial means to, a hundred times over if I may add, I have no intention of arresting you. And I am not currently here to interrogate Sarah Connor, but one Sarah Gale whom from the report that was written, did a public service."

Sarah felt the apprehension she was feeling slowly die away at the man's words. While she didn't know if she could trust him, the fact that he was willing to overlook her criminal record scored some points in her book.

"I don't think Irons would approve of that, would he?"

He scoffed slightly at the mention of Irons name. 'Looks like I'm not the only one who doesn't like the man.'

"The Chief of Police is a pompous idiot with a lot of ambition. He does not posses the tact or talent to truly hold this position, and I am afraid that his incompetence has spread throughout most, if not the entire department. He is not a factor that warrants concern, I assure you."

Sarah, after a short silence, asked the question that had been bothering her since the man walked inside the room.

"Who are you exactly?"

"Ah, yes. I did neglect to tell you my name, didn't I? Perhaps, an introduction is in order then?"

Removing his glasses and revealing a pair of ice blue eyes, the man stood straighter in his chair before giving Sarah a sly smirk.

"Hello. My name is Albert Wesker. Tell me, Ms. Gale, what do you know about S.T.A.R.S.?"

Raccoon City High School; 10:15 AM…

Rebecca Chambers let out a relived sigh as she saw the fire department outside the school as she exited the paramedics unit she had traveled in. While their wasn't any real fire by the looks of things, and no testing had been scheduled, Rebecca came to the conclusion that somebody thought it would be funny to set the fire alarm off, possibly for some stupid reason like skipping a test or the off chance that school would cancel for the day.

Not one easily angered, Rebecca let out an aggravated sigh escape her lips, a small scowl marring her pretty face. While it wasn't something she was used to doing, the action didn't feel unnatural, though she had been told more then once that the facial expression didn't suit her at all. Taking in a calming breath, Rebecca tried to think as to what led to her current situation, and recalled rather quickly that this had started only a few weeks ago following her graduation from college at eighteen years of age and her quick enlistment into the R.P.D's S.T.A.R.S. Unit.

Rebecca had found it odd being fresh out of college with no proper training in the field, and only having the slightest bit of law-enforcement training, and she was immediately recruited for S.T.A.R.S.. She had no idea as to why she was recruited, not seeing how her chemical and medical prowess had anything to do with the law, but she wasn't complaining. The job paid well, and for one who had college loans to still pay off, that had some merit, as well as the prestige to go with it. That, and at eighteen, she was the youngest to join S.T.A.R.S. now, and probably ever.

But that didn't mean she was so graciously accepted to the group, not by a long shot. Certain individuals, such as Forest Speyer and Edward Dewey, felt that she had to prove to them that she was S.T.A.R.S. material. That she could be trusted to act out in the field and not fall under pressure.

While understanding their points, Rebecca found herself annoyed at the abrupt and patronizing manner in which they addressed her. She wasn't a child, despite her age, and was more then capable of having a serious adult conversation. Regardless, she had agreed and asked what she could do to make them realize her value and skills as a member of their team.

That being as to the reason why she was stuck in a paramedic's van, first aid in hand as she surveyed the large assembly of students with a critical eye. She aimed to please after all.

Looking at the group of kids, moaning, grumbling, and complaining about the abruptness of the fire alarm and that they weren't informed of any testing going on that day, she really wished that she had simply kept her mouth shut when she asked what she could do to prove her teammates that she was worthy of trust. This was just a form of hazing if she ever saw one, and at fourteen in college, she had seen a lot of hazing on all sides. And she of course, aimed to please, even if what she was asked to do was either ridiculous or just stupid in general.

Her eyes wondered over the students, her eyes never lingering on one individual for more then a few seconds as she tried in vain to find one individual whom required her medical training. In all honesty, she was hoping none of the students were injured so she could just go back inside the van and what until this whole misunderstanding was cleared up. Her gaze however soon settled on a single boy hanging in the very back of the group. While still close enough to be part of the large correlation of students, he was far enough to not draw any attention to himself, or at the very least, be overlooked. Truthfully, Rebecca herself would've probably overlooked him herself is she didn't have keen eye and excellent sense of observation.

She tore her eyes away from him only to look at the small group beside him, noting how they all seemed to be giving him strange looks, speaking in hushed whispers in the false hope that he wouldn't overhear them and know they were discussing him. He didn't need to however seeing as they were making it bluntly obvious of their topic of gossip with the not so discrete stares and gestures towards him.

Glancing back at the boy, she felt a wave of pity hit her as he shuffled awkwardly from his classmates, no doubt uncomfortable from being near them. It reminded her of a time back in her life not to long ago.

Directing her gaze elsewhere, Rebecca winced somewhat as her eyes took in the group of seniors near the sidewalk. If she hadn't been so intelligent, she would have no doubt be graduating alongside them sometime next month.

When Rebecca was only a child, she had been told numerous times by both her parents and teachers that she had a gift of learning, the ability to take everything she learned like a fish would to water. With each passing year, the praise only increased. At one point, her fifth grade teacher made it a point to make a reference to all of Rebecca's work while teaching, and had said that she was planning on continuing this method for the following years of her career. While flattered slightly at the fact that so many people expected a large level of greatness from her, Rebecca had realized that intelligence at such a young age came at a price.

Friendship.

Nobody in her class, hell, nobody in her school other then the faculty wanted to talk to her. Instead, they settled on jeers and taunts, hurtful words and pranks that had more then on one occasion left her in tears. She had sought the comfort of her parents, her father in particular. She was after all, daddy's little princess, and when all else failed, daddy would make the bad people go away.

Unfortunately, her father could do very little in the matter, and only encouraged her to continue to do well in school and ignore her classmates.

"If they can't see you for the beautiful, young, intelligent girl that you are, then their not worth the effort Becca."

Taking her father's words to heart, Rebecca had started to ignore her classmates, continuing to raise her grades and excel. She still held out hope that maybe she would have a friend the following year, and that soon became the year after that, and the year after that…

It was by the time that she had reached fourteen, a freshmen turned senior in high school that Rebecca realized several things. One, was that people her age were stupid and immature. They cared only for themselves and their 'popularity' in the school. Girls around her age were spiteful and cruel, taking in a perverse pleasure from the anguish of their fellow female classmates. Particularly those that they didn't like.

The males of the school were another story all together. Arrogant, majority of them jocks, and with a piss poor attitude and knowledge when it came to women. Though that wasn't saying much as said women, or rather, teenage girls ate up every single cheesy pick up line or compliment, no matter how corny it was. Especially from those horribly romance/comedy movies that started to seem prevalent in today's entertainment world.

She felt her insides knot themselves as her gaze lingered onto one of the boys in particular, one she immediately recognized.

Thomas Richmond.

An arrogant asshole if there ever was one.

She remembered vividly the horrible acts that he put her through, from sticking glue in her hair as small children, to pushing her down a flight of stairs in elementary school. About the only thing he had done to her that resulted in something positive was when he had cut her hair back in the second grade. It was since then that she had always kept it short, finding that the look actually suited her. She remembered, to her embarrassment, the amount of tears she had spilt when she had claimed that her hair was ruined and that she would end up looking like a boy for the rest of her life.

Sure, she was intelligent, but that didn't mean she was rational, especially back then at the tender age of six.

She snapped out of her thoughts as Richmond directed his gaze at her, confusion clouding his eyes before a spark of recognition entered them.

Rebecca felt a grimace fight its way across her face. He remembered her.

Just perfect.

It was then that Rebecca turned her gaze back towards the boy from earlier, before finally taking a detailed look at him. Not exceptionally tall by an standards, standing at an average height of 5'5, Rebecca noted that he looked to be your average normal teenager. The only unique thing about him where his eyes, which where an amazing shade of bright green that she had never seen before. His face, while holding some small level of baby fat, was sharp and defined. It was only after taking a detailed look at him did Rebecca finally notice the various cuts and bruises on his face, a small trail of blood leaking from what she could tell, a rather deep cut over his left eye.

Berating herself mentally for not noticing this earlier, Rebecca quickly grabbed her first aid kit before making a beeline straight for him, non-to-gently shoving Thomas to the side, Rebecca taking in a small amount of joy at his shocked expression as she passed him without so much as a glance.

As soon as she was within a few feet of him, Rebecca noticed almost immediately the guarded expression he quickly put on, his posture going rigid, almost as if he was preparing to run at a moments notice.

'Odd', she quickly thought.

Stopping and leaving only a foot of distance between them, Rebecca kneeled down, placing her medical kit on the ground softly beside her before standing back up and taking the boy's face in her hands.

She almost laughed at the stunned expression on his face from her abrupt move, and let a small smile cross her lips as his cheeks flushed a pink hue from the close proximity of her face, her fingers tracing his jaw line and cheekbones, lightly grazing the bruises and cuts that adorned his face.

After determining the number of wounds on his face and what would require immediate attention, Rebecca glanced at his hand, her eyes widening at the sight of the deep cut that was bleeding rather heavily. Immediately she grabbed his hand, fully aware of the small hiss of pain that her patient released before bringing it up to eye level, her fingers running themselves gently across it.

After warping the bandage around his hand, she gave him a friendly smile. Though awkwardly, the boy returned it.

Rebecca found his smile endearing, and wondered briefly why he didn't do it more often. It was at that thought that her eyes instinctively rounded on the group of seniors, specifically Richmond, whom had been glaring daggers at them, now with his two lackeys William Mansfield and Michael Peterson. Both alongside Thomas had been bullies during her younger years, and by the looks they were shooting the kid she was currently treating, she was certain their current victim was him.

Feeling that maybe a conversation would help with the awkwardness, though she still didn't have clue as to why it was there in the first place, Rebecca said lightly, "So what's your name?"

Instead of getting the desired results, particularly his name, the young man merely averted his gaze to the side, lips drawn into a thin line as he glared at the ground.

While one not to be ignored, Rebecca wasn't affronted by his behavior. She knew a defense mechanism when she saw it, having one herself back when she was fourteen, so she merely continued with his treatment, taking some salve from the kit and rubbing it on his right cheek, which she noted was the area with the most bruising.

He hissed slightly before it became more of wince before settling onto an expression on neutrality.

"You know, most guys would kill to be in your position right now, and you don't seem to be enjoying it in the least. Any particular reason why?"

It got a reaction from him, though not the one she expected. She was counting on the look of a flushed, embarrassed, and possibly star struck look to grace the boy's face, but instead, she got a look of loathing directed over her shoulder. She didn't have to look to know who he was looking at.

Grabbing his chin, Rebecca directed his line of sight back towards her, and again noted vaguely how much emotion his eyes showed.

"Ignore them. They're not worth the trouble, believe me."

His gaze softened almost instantly before he gave a small hesitant nod. Smiling at him once more, Rebecca finished with the salve before putting a bandage on the cut over his left eye after wiping a bit of disinfectant. After that, she put all her medical equipment back in her kit before standing to her feet again, fully aware of the attention they were receiving from the culmination of students.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot. Let's reintroduce ourselves, okay?"

Raising her hand up in a salute, Rebecca said, "Officer Rebecca Chambers, S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team. Rear Security and Field Medic." Giving him a small wink, Rebecca added, "But that's just Rebecca to you."

The boy let a small smile grace his face. Unlike the last one, this one wasn't awkward or forced. It was more genuine, and made he seem more handsome then normal.

"John. My name is John Gale."

//-/Author Note/-//

End of the second chapter. As you can see, John and Sarah have adjusted to life in Raccoon quiet well (NOT), and Wesker and Rebecca make an appearance! Don't know when I'll update again, but remember to hit the review button and tell me what you think. I need feedback from you, the readers, as to what you like, don't like, and would like see and not to see, and what you feel I can improve on. Better stories are written because of suggestions from the readers, because, lets face it, when we authors write something and submit it, we think its perfect. Unless of course we sent something horribly done and did it intentionally, then that's a whole different issue altogether.

Also on separate but still relevant issue, the pairings for this story is undecided. As of now, nobody is paired up with anyone, but I have decided to give John some interaction with a few of the female RE characters, both game and movie verse. That way, when the final pairing is decided, I will have something to build on.

Anyway, until next time! ;P