Chapter 15: Albert Wesker

Announcements: There it is, the ending of the series! Can I say that it's the best I've ever written? Maybe, but it's the most excited I've been for a plot for a while. Thank you everyone for following the story of Emma Singh, I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I. Given some time, I'll probably start looking through the chapters and edit them, but for now this is done. I apologize, to those of you who might hate the ending, but it's the only way things could have ended, has been since the beginning. As always enjoy.

Wesker paced the length of his office, his mind too occupied with Emma's capture -or rather recapture. He'd thought his mind was playing tricks on him, that moment just before he'd left her bedroom, after they'd had sex for the first time her eyes flashed gold. Hopeful wishing, he'd thought it. But there was no doubt when Leon and Chris took her away from him, her eyes flashed dangerously. Though this line of thought confused him, she hadn't been exposed to the virus, not by any of the doctors or himself. So how did she fuse with it so perfectly? The door opened and closed, drawing his attention back to the real world.

"Ms. O'Connor," he hummed, only minor annoyance touching his voice, as he stepped away from the window.

"She's gone, with all the information she's been exposed to." The redhaired woman hummed, amused with this predicament they found themselves in. "What's your plan now?'

"I'll find her and bring her back."

"She should be put down, like the dog she is!" Mira's voice echoed angrily. "You didn't listen to me then, so listen to me now. She WILL tell them EVERYTHING, and she WILL BETRAY you EVERY chance she gets. Kill her now, or lose your support from my Umbrella branch."

Her voice underlined the importance of what she was saying, as she crossed the room. Wesker said nothing, watching as Mira leaned across his desk, her long wine-colored hair falling over her shoulders. It was rare to find her hair curled and hanging, instead of pulled up. She was trying to entice him, play with him, to get what she wanted, something they both knew wouldn't work. His eyes flashed a dark red, before a shocked yelp echoed through the halls.

It's the first day on the job, and Emma was nervous, almost as nervous as when she just started and worried she'd get someone killed on day one. Her fingers played with the slight creases in her polo-shirt as her eyes took in her appearance. The bruises were long gone, leaving the smooth sun kissed flesh one even tone. There were very few evident scars left from her time in Umbrella, but the mental scars persisted. Thea only gave Emma permission to work again -for only half of the day, and no important jobs- because without anything to do, Emma started reverting into a jumpy creature. In her notes, Thea mentions this may be a way that helped Wesker get to Emma.

"Ready, or do you need a few more days?" Chris asked, leaning against the bedroom door jam.

Emma smiled, looking into the mirror, he was wearing his nice Khaki pants with forest green shirt. Chris often called his "lucky clothes," since they always managed to stay safe. If she wanted to get to work on time she'd have to leave in ten, fifteen, minutes. There was a feeling of uncertainty floating silently in the room, though Emma portrayed her old self, Chris knew she still wasn't ready for such a high stress job.

"Why the Lucky clothes?" Emma chuckled, her nose slightly wrinkling. "Is there something I don't know about your day?"

"No, I'm wearing these in honor of your return." Chris smiled, his body pushing from the wall.

Her smile faltered, as flashes of both her kidnapping and rescue danced around in her mind. Both Thea and herself, worked hard on distinguishing when and how Wesker got her to be so compliant. It was hard digging through the torturous parts of her captivity, little things like the way the knuckles of his fist fit so perfectly between her ribs, or how sweet words congratulated her on doing a good job, plagued her dreams. Thea called it conditioning, something akin to how we raise children and train animals, but to an extreme. Near death experiences being the punishments, and extravagant gifts to reward. There was no doubt that was how Umbrella's men and women stayed loyal.

Stockholm Syndrome, that's what Emma was suffering from, that's what her training should have nipped in the bud. One of Thea's many theories, was that Emma is a person so used to pleasing others, that even with her years of training she was still so very susceptible to the syndrome. Emma's assignment for the week, was to live for herself, rather than others, even if it meant saying no to others, a concept Thea imagined was difficult for her patient.

"I am happy to be home." She breathed, as her fingers played with her sleeves. "It's just so hard readjusting to everything."

Tears bubbled to the rim of her eyes, as she spoke- hiccups intruding on some of her words. Like the brother to her he was, Chris crossed the room and pulling her deeply into his chest. His chin resting against the top of her head, as he shushed her words. It was hard for them both, he hated the constant battle in her eyes, and she hated that she was keeping so much from him.

"Ch-Chris," she hiccupped, pulling away from him. "I love him so much, but I also fear and hate him."

"I know," Chris hummed into her scalp. "It's only a part of your condition. He did this to you."

Chris had the sense that there was something between Emma and Wesker, even if it was one sided, he saw it when they walked in on them. His fingers spun a tress of her bangs, until her breathing went back to normal. They were going to be late, but he wasn't going to be the one to tell her that, she needed to express her fears right now. This was the first time she had truly opened to him since coming back, usually she just avoided the conversation. When Leon got back, Chris needed to thank him for suggesting they cater to Emma's needs, instead of telling her no.

"Ready?" He asked, when she slumped into his body.

"I'm scared." She breathed, resting her cheek against his chest.

"Why? We're all family and friends."

"But I'm the traitor who lived. I was with Wesker for eighteen months Chris. Everyone probably thinks I'm behind all those terror attacks."

"No one thinks that." Chris smiled, pulling her an arm's length away. "We were worried about you, and EVERYONE was relieved when we got you back. No one see's you as a traitor."

"I wasn't behind the attacks," Emma sighed, locking her eyes on his. "I didn't know it happened, until I came back."

"Emma, I know." He half laughed. "I think you need a few more days, before returning back to work."

"No…no, I need something to do, rather than clean and re-stalk your lockers."

"Fine, let's go."

The smell of lemon floor cleaner met them at the front door. New protocol required employees to have name keycards, which unlocked any door that met your clearance level. Emma's was still in the process of being made, so Chris used his tag to let them in. In the foyer stood all the navigational technicians and many of the men Emma had the pleasure of working with. Smiles instantly greeting her, before a rush of 'welcome backs' and 'we've missed yous' blended together. Chris's large hand planted itself onto her shoulder, his way of saying I'm-here-for-you. She didn't talk much, mostly taking in the familiar sights and smells, as other told her about the past eighteen months.

"Ok everyone, I think it's time to start working." Reed hummed, from the glass balcony. "Leon, Brent, and Hazel, you are going to Germany for some information. It seems Wesker's at it again. Chris, you are going to South America for a bit, your partner will meet you at the compound." Reed paused, her eyes meeting Emma's. "Chris, you'll be working with their Navigational Technician, Emma please follow me."

No one moved at first, while the admiral's words slowly starting to sink in. More terror attacks, meant nothing good. Only Emma and the boys knew about the new strain of the virus, but no real information was provided. Her eyes darted to Chris and Leon, the two males looked at each other with slight annoyance. Who was going to stay with Emma while they were gone? They broke their locked gazes to look to the dark-haired woman they both cherished. Thea had mentioned weaning her from the vigilant companionship, but would them both up and leaving be too much? She half smiled at the men, before slowly making her way to her commanding officer.

"What are you waiting for?" Reed barked, causing everyone to jump into action.

With orders to start the other bustled around, frantically trying to get everything together before their partners deployed. Emma half smiled, making sure to doge anyone rushing up the stairs. Reed, having gotten Emma's attention, was already halfway to her newly mended door. This time there was no glass, just a wooden door, with her name engraved in gold on a black plate. Simple.

"Is everything alright?" Emma asked, closing the door behind her.

Dark strands of her bangs fluttered down, momentarily shielding the nervousness in her eyes. It was hard facing those around her, no matter what was said, Emma would always blame herself for the death of Benton as well as those terror attacks. If she'd been more vigilant, less content, stronger, this would have never happened. Silence hung in the air, as the realization dawned on her. This was all her fault. All the death and suffering of those she loved. Completely because she wasn't strong enough. She was weak, both emotionally and physically. The moment anything pressed her, she would break and do or say whatever asked of her.

"We're so happy you're back." Reed sighed, finally breaking Emma's toil. "But there is protocol, you will not be in charge of anyone's lives…. Not until you've been fully cleared." The general lingered on the word fully, as if assessing Emma's ability to comprehend the situation.

"You will be charged with training our new recruits. Showing them around the compounds, introducing them to their co-workers, and making sure they know protocols."

"Understood," Emma hummed, her eyes locked onto the Persian rug.

Busy work, something to make sure she doesn't die of cabin fever, and yet nothing that she could sell back to Wesker, if they were still in contact. That is, only if Emma proved to be a larger threat than expected. Right now, she was here on trust alone. Trust that she was the same girl as before -if not just a little more broken. They were being careful, probably suspicious as to why she survived, and why Wesker let her go so easily. To tell you the truth, those questions also plagued her thoughts

"This is temporary." General Reed hummed, lightly touching Emma's hands.

"I know, I should study protocols, make sure nothing's changed in the last year and a half."

"That is a great idea," a bright smile touched the generals face. "You won't officially start your job until tomorrow afternoon. There will be six recruits, four navigational technicians and two men who will be working closely with your people. We've changed a few things with protocol, one main thing being that all foot soldiers have to have some nav-tech training." There was a moment of silence, before Emma nodded. "Now, for today, we think you should spend the day reacquainting with the compounds, protocols, and personnel."

"Will I be handing them maps in the beginning along with a binder holding our protocol?" Emma asked, thinking back to her first day here.

"Of course, all the supplies will be in your temporary office."

Emma glanced around the small room, unsure of how long she'd be there or even how often. They were opening another compound, this one being in Africa, to keep an eye on Umbrella movements, if they chose to return. Training those who would be stationed there was immensely important. And though they didn't see it as a life or death job, it very much was. Emma would be the foundation of this new camp, teaching everyone the basics of what needed to be done. It may be late, but she was determined to make up for the mistakes made during her captivity. For now, she would focus on getting the area clean, look through the boxes carelessly scattered about, and maybe after, then she'd go explore.

She was dirty, the whole room reeked of dust, as she separated boxes into burn boxes and those to save. The furniture was sparse, a decent size desk, three moderately comfortable chairs, two book shelves, and one large bay window. It wasn't like she was going to spend too much time here, but having a clean area to call her own was nice. Just as she dumped the last of the dust, dirt, and grime into the boxes, there was a knock on her door.

"Come in." Emma hummed, turning to face the messenger.

"You asked for new maps and such?" Mathew asked.

Two large boxes sat neatly next to the door, as Matt leaned against the door jam. Emma nodded, thanking him for printing off all new information. Sometime during her cleaning, she'd realized that all the information on the maps were old, and had to take a small detour to get it changed up. That's how she met Mathew, when she asked for more recent information. The maps they had, carelessly tossed across the small office, were over eight years old which left out the four new buildings the B.S.A.A had added. These new maps had all the new buildings, a list of bars, coffee houses, and restaurants that are nearby. Emma even managed to convince the company to provide a PDF as well as a physical copy of protocol.

"Thanks again for all your help." She half smiled, taking the top box.

"Are those the boxes that need to be burned?" he asked, pointing his chin to the right-hand corner.

"Yes, I need to look up burn days." She smiled, taking out a large stack of maps.

"I can do it now," he shrugged, shifting the other box towards her. "That way you can go and reacquaint yourself."

Emma lightly smiled at him, as she pulled out enough supplies for the six recruits. Did Chris and Leon get a crash course on being Nav-techs? Or were senior officers allowed to slip from the cracks? She wondered, turning to face her companion. Her eyes took in the strawberry blond hair and shockingly green eyes of his strong features. Once upon a time, she would have found him rather attractive, even played with the idea of asking him out to coffee once or twice. He returned her smile, taking the chance to see her, actually look at the weariness in her eyes.

"Uh, I know this is…. coming off a little strong…" he hummed, rubbing the back of his neck. "But would you want to get dinner tonight, get to know each other, maybe?"

"I don't have much to talk about." She breathed, shrugging. "I'm not much company anymore."

"We can talk about anything, I'll even talk to most if you want." He smiled, already hearing how pathetic he sounded. "I'm not going to pressure you. So how about this. I'll wait for you at the door after work, if you're here still, I'll know you want to go. If not, no hard feelings."

"Or, you tell me where we're going, and I'll just meet you there." She hummed, rolling her eyes. "Chris wants me to go out more anyways."

"Is Indian food alright?" he asked sheepishly.

"Perfectly."

"Have you been to Spicy Symphony?" He asked.

"A little pricy." She giggled. "Ask Leon, I'm a cheap date, how about Milon on 1st instead?"

"I'll see you at seven?"

Emma nodded ever so slightly, before smiling brighter at him. He was sweet. For the rest of the day, she walked around the new buildings, introducing herself to any new face. Things had certainly changed in her absence. ID cards, receptionists for each level and branch, armed guards everywhere. It was like a war had broken out, and she'd just woken up from a two-year coma. She hadn't expected the warm welcomes, especially when she'd revealed her name, but it was a nice.

"Emma?"

It was entertaining, running into Thea in the silvery halls of the East building's recreation halls. Concealing the light scowl and eye rolls, Emma turned around smiling at the woman who knew her intimately. Really, Emma loved that she had someone to confide in, without any judgment, but right now wasn't an ideal place to interact.

"How's is your first day at work?" she asked, pulling Emma into a hug. "As a friend, not a therapist."

"Nice, I needed work."

"Good, I'm very glad I ran into you." Thea hummed, drawing the dark-haired girl into a quiet room. "I…uh… have a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning." She breathed awkwardly. "It was the only time they could fit me in… Would you be too apposed if we move your appointment to tomorrow at 2, instead of in the morning?"

Emma cocked her head to the side, eyeing her companion. With farther analysis, Emma could see the slight swell at the lower stomach, how Thea's breast seems to bubble a little more than usual, and the fresh tooth paste scent. It was three in the afternoon, who would have just brushed their teeth at this time? Unless they were going to the dentist soon…. Or they'd just thrown up. Either way, Emma wasn't going to stick her nose where it wasn't welcome. In another life, they would have been friends, but right now they had a doctor patient relationship. She didn't even know if Thea was married or dating anyone.

"Of course not. I start training recruits anyways." She smiled. "See you at two."

To be honest, she didn't know how to dress for this event. It wasn't a date, she knew that much, but did that mean that there was no need to dress to impress? She wondered. Milan wasn't fancy, not by any meaning of the word, instead it was a small restaurant filled with a comfortable air. It would be warm inside, despite the chilled air dancing outside, which swayed her into wearing a sky blue vintage pin-up sundress, with a tan frock with fur inlay.

"You look…. Spectacular." Matt breathed, finally arriving.

Emma cocked her brow, wondering why his words seemed so strained. "Thanks, let's get seated."

"I'll admit, I've never heard of this place." He hummed, opening the doors.

They were instantly enveloped by the smell of Indian spices and a touch of Jasmin incense. It felt like home. Heat lapped at her body, as she entered the building, waiting to be seated. Matt following close behind, as they followed the hostess to a chair.

"Most people pass this place every day, never walking in." Emma smiled, taking the aisle seat. "My mom discovered this place years ago. I'd come here all the time, when I was younger."

Conversation came easier for Matt, taking any indication of a response from Emma, as a segue to another dialog. They laughed often, genuinely enjoying each other's company. Even when there was food, he babbled on about family, some new tv show he'd discovered, anything that came to mind. It was nice, not having to talk about her disappearance or how she's doing. God did she hate that question. Her brows drew, at the sudden realization, he was making sure she wasn't home alone.

"Are okay?" he asked, taking note of the frown.

"Of course," she breathed, returning to her smiling form. "You know, you didn't have to do this." Her hand waved vaguely, as she watched his features carefully. "I have therapy tomorrow at two in the afternoon, not seven in the morning. Are you going to take me?"

"You figured it out," he chuckled under his breath. "Chris said you were a clever girl. What told you?"

"You avoided the conversation," she breathed taking a bite of her food. "Everyone has questions, if they knew that is, and there was no way you worked so closely to Chris that you didn't know." His sigh distracted her. "I always get, what was it like? Did he beat you? How did you survive it? You were just too good at avoiding the conversation, so obviously you were told to do so by Chris. Which means, he asked you to keep an eye on me."

"He did, but I would have approached you anyways... even if he hadn't" Matt smiled, lightly patting her hand. "You might not remember this, but you'd been a part of the reconnaissance mission that rescued me from a captive situation." He breathed, shakily. "Not that we should bond over similar traumas, but you'd been so kind, and patient with me."

Emma sat stunned, watching as he talked. She remembered the day he described, it was the one she thought of during her captivity. Comparing the two situations, wondering if she'd truly could call what she went through horrifying. He'd been more active on field back then, and she, still training for the high stress job of navigational technician. It was the first time she'd been on field, both Chris and Jill were tasked with rescuing a group leader, who'd gone M.I.A, months before. Jill was the one who suggested they have someone with mid-level medical skills, and that's how Emma was recruited.

They had just gotten behind enemy lines, not as smoothly as the two foot-soldiers wanted, but they'd arrived in one piece. Chris -as always- ran point, keeping Emma between the two. By cover of night, they slipped into and abandoned warehouse, where Mat sat. He was slumped over, his arms handcuffed around a pole as thick as Emma's waistline. At first, she'd thought he was dead, that they'd failed in his mission, but Chris pushed her forward. Matt looked so much like a corpse halfway decomposed, but had a faint pulse.

Her fingers pulled at his clothes, searching for any wounds that needed to be addressed right now. There were two deep gashes, where meat was exposed to the elements, both across his belly and both thoroughly infested with maggots. It took everything she had not to throw up. During that time, she'd been terribly squeamish, but that experience nipped that in the bud. Luckily the maggots kept what little rotting there was from spreading to his vitals. All she'd have to do is clean the area, disinfect it, and sew it up.

"Is he still alive?" Chris asked, as he and Jill searched the perimeter.

"Yes, but barely." Emma hummed, taking out supplies for his wounds. "There's no way he's walking out of here, though."

She got straight to work, taking care to be gentile. Numbing his sides, before scraping the bugs from the wounds and again before sewing him up. He'd woken up with a startle, as she worked. Chris almost instantly silencing Matt's terrified screams with his hands, muttering reassurances that all three were from the B.S.A.A. sent there to save him. He'd truly been through hell. She remembered thinking.

She sang to him while she worked, comforted him when hysteria took over, and during their escape she made sure to never leave his side. Hell, she even stepped in front of a gun for him, granted she saw Chris sneaking up on the threatening man, but she was willing to take the bullet for him none-the-least. Though, when they arrived back to the states, they didn't interact again, not until now.

Matt's light touch woke Emma from her memory, his soft smile telling her he knew where she went. The tips of his fingers pushing away the tears she'd unknowingly shed. Embarrassment touched her cheeks, as she shifted her eyes around the surrounding area. No one was looking at them, thankfully, but this was so unlike her. Crying in public, over a memory. God was she really that broken?

"None of that," he smiled, taking his hand back. "We don't want others thinking I just broke your heart."

She smiled, using the sleeve of her frock to wipe away tears. "S-sorry."

"No problem. In all seriousness, if you need to talk, to someone who understands the situation, don't hesitate to call on me." He breathed, carefully. "It's different, talking to a person who understands. Now, let's get you home. You have a busy day tomorrow."

"I didn't think they'd allow you to stay here." Wesker's voiced echoed in the darkness.

"Wesker?" Emma's voice piqued.

Her body pushed off the bed, the baby blue nightgown dancing down her curves as she moved. It was dark, but the small bits of light coming from her living room told her Wesker was near the bedroom door. Emma sighed, feeling as though this was right, having him here, while the others were on a mission. Threads of fear laced themselves into her overwhelmingly happy cloth, they were the last strands of the level-headed girl Wesker had taken over a year and a half ago. The baser instincts, telling her to run far away, leaving all behind for survival. Emma sighed, wrapping her arms around his waist, breathing his scent in deeply.

"How are you doing kitten?" he smiled, taking her into his arms.

"Better now," she hummed, tears slowly welling up. "Are you going to bring me back to the compound?"

Wesker hummed, not giving any answer before his large fingers pulled her to eye level, using her neck as a grip. Panic danced through Emma's body, her fingers clawing at his forearm, as the last few strands of sanity scrambled for directions on what to do. In the back of her mind, she was reminded of all the times he'd have her dangling precariously from the ground, her way of silently saying I-told-you-so. They stayed like that for a long moment, though for Emma it felt like hours, before he dropped her body. Her body crumbled to the ground, fingers hold her now bruised neck, and gasps sucking air before painfully choking it back out. Hot tears brimming the dark-haired woman's eyes, as reality sank back in.

"What have you told them kitten?" he asked, his voice lightening to a honey sweetness.

"Nothing particularly important." She whimpered, pushing herself back.

Wesker tilted his head to the side, watching as fear pulsed from her being. "I didn't ask if it was important," he breathed, taking a few steps forward. "I asked what you told them."

"No one has talked to me about my time with you, not until I've been cleared by a therapist." Emma blurted, splaying her hands out, begging for Wesker's forgiveness.

"Do you think you need therapy kitten?" he asked, caressing her cheek as he spoke.

"I-No."

Though Emma hand no idea whether she was improving, but she knew that she indeed needed the therapy sessions to iron out what was a healthy emotional response. There was no way she was going to tell him that, so instead she told him what he wanted to hear. Her storm cloud eyed fluttered to the floor, as Wesker analyzed her features for any signs of a lie. His lips lightly touching her forehead, different thoughts starting to present themselves when it came to discovery.

"You know I don't like it when you lie to me." His voiced wavered.

His fingers instantly dragged her back into the air as he spoke. There was the flash he waited so patiently for, her storm cloud eyes flashing a deep red color in her panic, as he held her up. Now armed with proof of his suspicions what was going to do? Did she even know about the beautiful gift bestowed upon her? He wondered, watching as her eyes slowly became bloodshot. With this free hand, Wesker lightly traced the lines of her lips, admiring the pale bluish purple they had become, before flickering his eyes back to hers. Dropping her once again to the ground, he watched as she coughed and gasped for air.

"What to do now?" He hummed, circling her like a predator.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd already decided on his course of action, and yet he loved playing with the sweet creature she was. Tears streamed down her face, a few sobs joining her gasps, it was just so beautiful, her pain. Wesker smiled, crouching down beside her. There was only one real way to find out how she got infected, he nodded finally making up his mind. Emma was the gift that kept on giving, and yet she's come to the end of her leash.

"Kitten?" he breathed, placing his hand at the back of her neck, ignoring the flinch he was meet with. "Are you ready to come home?"

Emma sighed, her stormy eyes meeting his shining red ones. A mixture of fear and excitement pulsed through her, one last warning from the few strings of sanity that remained again ignored. Wesker smiled, seeing the need to please him dancing freely in her eyes, no longer held back by caution. In the end, he won. He'd finally be able to break something in the nuisance that was Chris. His fingers tightened at the back of her neck, drawing her into his chest. Each taking a moment to breath the other deeply into their lungs.

"Take a deep breath my dear." He hummed, both hands now sliding to her shoulders. "You're going to need it."

He watched as her brows drew, asking the question she didn't have time to ask. His right hand pushed and held her into the wall, as his left tightly squeezed her neck. Terror danced through her being, hands wrapping around his strong fingers, clawing for air. Wesker straddled her legs, as he watched panic dance through her eyes, as the edges of her lips slowly go pail.

He'd done this enough to know blue was coming next. When his fingers tightened again, he was greeted with a rather loud popping noise. With her windpipe now broken, he didn't need to continue his grip, but he enjoyed the feeling of his flesh against hers. Feeling her pulse go thready, before stopping completely. By the time he was finished with her, Emma's face was a lightly blue color, her head lolled forward. Wesker sighed, running his fingers through her dark tresses, farther exposing the freshly made bruises around her neck.

"Good bye kitten," he purred, picking up an old polaroid she had.

Before leaving, Wesker neatly placed the four pictures he'd take onto the dining room table. A smile touching his lips, at the thought of Chris finding them.