Disclaimer: Resident Evil and its characters are rightfully owned by Capcom.

Chapter 11 – Revelations

It was all happening so fast, his mind was barely registering what was going on. He kept his eyes and gun trained towards the mysterious woman and the Javo's when he heard a yelp and a loud thud. He knew it was Sherry and something must have happened to her. He spun around only to meet the gigantic arm of the monster catching him across the chest. The beast had attached his metallic drill at the end which ended up ripping the fabric of his shirt. He grunted in pain as he dropped his gun which scattered across the ground. Falling face first on the snow, he put his arms out to brace his body against the snowy ground. Turning his face sideways, he spat out a mouthful of snow. He gave another loud groan as he felt a huge pressure against his back. Wincing in pain, he looked up to the mysterious woman.

He gave a low chuckle. "You know, those shots of yours pack one hell of a punch, lady," he said gritting his teeth as he felt the pressure on his lower back increase making it harder for him to breathe.

The woman approached him slowly and lowered herself to the ground to meet his eye level. She regarded him with a look of curiosity, eyes glintering with dangerous interest which reminded him of a cat on the verge of extending its claws. "So, you're Wesker Junior," she said with a tilt of her head.

"Wesker? You lost me," he replied hoarsely as he attempted to shrug. The pressure against his back increased which earned a grunt from him. What the hell is this woman on about? Who the fuck is Wesker anyway?

"Albert Wesker was a colossal imbecile. A fool who tried to destroy the world. He was also your father," she replied, voice as smooth as silk. Finally she's meeting the only son of the infamous Wesker.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"Which makes you heir to a very special blood type," she continued on.

"Never heard of him. I ain't got a father, lady. You're mistaken," he replied. First of all, there's this thing about his special blood and how he can save the world. That was already hard enough to wrap his mind around. Now this lady is going on about this Wesker guy who's supposed to be his father? As he goes on through this mission more questions are unravelled instead of answers. To be quite frank, he is getting fucking sick of all this. Being chased around by an ugly beast and sought after his blood is pissing the shit out of him. This was all getting too much. He knew he's got to do something quickly.

"Take my word for it."

"The hell should I listen to you? Come on, what do you want from me?" he spat. He could feel his temper brewing and in any minute he's going to explode.

The woman eyed him and gave him a smirk. "You certainly have a smart mouth. You're definitely his son."

He looked across and spotted his partner lying on the snow several feet from him. She was unmoving. Looks like it's up to him to get them out of here. Quick as lightning he moved his hand towards his ammo pouch by his belt and retrieved a flash grenade. Pulling the pin with his teeth, he tossed it towards the Javo's. A blinding light erupted resulting in a series of cries from the surprised Javo's, shielding their eyes. With a burst of energy he turned his body and shoved the huge foot off him. The gigantic beast stumbled and fell on a knee. Seizing this moment, the mercenary got to his feet and delivered an uppercut to the monster's face. It leaned backwards but still remained kneeling. He followed it up with a right hook across its ugly face that made fall on its ass.

He took this moment to get away. He ran towards his fallen comrade. She was lying on her front, her body still and lifeless.

"Hey, come on," he said as he put a hand on her shoulder. He felt something wet and sticky. Pulling back his hand, he saw it was covered in blood. Looking closer, he saw that Sherry has a deep long cut running along from the top of her shoulder down to the middle of her back. Oh shit, he cursed silently. This is going to be a problem. But first, they needed to get out of here. Carefully gathering her in his arms, he lifted her light form up slowly. He placed an arm around her shoulders
and the other under her knees. Not bothering to glance behind him, he ran. He didn't know where as long as it got them farther away from them as possible.

The Javos grunted angrily and raised their guns towards the retreating back of the mercenary when the woman held up a hand.

"Leave them be. There will be other opportunities for us to take them. There are not a lot of places they can hide to anyway. We will meet them again."

The monster gave an angry roar as the pair disappeared from the distance.

Jake had been walking for what seemed like hours. All he could see is nothing but snow, snow and shit, more snow. Glancing at the still form of his partner, he knew she needed medical attention immediately. The blood had soaked through all the way to her coat leaving droplets of blood on the snow. She stirred but didn't wake up. As gently as he could, he elevated her upper body to decrease the flow of blood out of her. Her chest ended up pressed against his and her head rested on his shoulder.

"Come on, Sherry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. As light as she is, walking in knee deep snow for a while is proving to be even a challenge for him. Snow had begun to rain upon them and the wind is picking up. The sun is slowly disappearing and pretty soon they will be enveloped in darkness. Although physically strong and possessing great stamina, he knew he'll need to take a break soon too. All the running and fighting had taken a toll out of him. Further up ahead he saw what looked like a little shack.

"Hey, there's a shack up there. Finally a little luck," he said relieved. Trudging through the snow, he pushed forward towards the direction of it.

Opening the door quietly, he kept his eyes and ears alert for any unwanted company. He sighed in relief to find out the shack is empty. It was old and dirty with a wooden table in the middle of the room. The whole place was dim, the only source of light was coming from the windows. The sun has pretty much settled which didn't give much light at all. A fireplace stood by the corner with a box of wood next to it. Windows lined the wall beside the door.

He placed his partner gently on the floor near the fireplace. Moving quietly he grabbed several pieces of wood and tossed them in the fireplace. Arranging them closely together in a pile, he grabbed his lighter from his back pocket and lit the corner of the wood on fire. Lighting more wood with fire, he grabbed the fire poker lying on the floor and moved the pieces of wood until he got a healthy fire going.

Glancing back at his partner he noticed she still hasn't awoken. He reached her side and gently turned her to examine her wound. It had stopped bleeding which he found strange. Deep wounds never stopped bleeding unless treated medically. He noticed the wound seemed smaller than before and less deep. His curiosity picked up. He's never seen anything like this before. Nevertheless it needs to be stitched which he doesn't have the tools for. He looked for anything useful in the shack but found nothing. He's just going to have to disinfect it and bandage it to prevent infection. With an open wound like hers, he knew the nasty effects it could lead to if it got infected and left untreated. She mumbled something incoherent.

He leaned in closer to her. "Sherry?"

Her lips moved but nothing came out. Her eyes fluttered briefly open but just as quickly closed again. She let a breath out, his face close enough for him to feel the air fanning out across his cheek. It was cold. Her bangs were matted against her forehead. Using his fingertips, he moved them aside and touched her forehead. It was cold and clammy. Her skin looked paler than usual and her lips are turning into a faint shade of blue. He needed to do this fast while she's still unconscious. Disinfecting wounds hurt like a bitch and it's better if she's not awake to experience it. He knows it from his own experience.

Grabbing some medical supplies from his first aid pack, he took out a roll of bandage, antiseptic wipes and medical tape. He arranged them on the floor. He removed her gloves and placed them on the wooden table. He slowly unbuckled her belt and unbuttoned her coat. Gently, he eased out her arms out of the sleeves careful not to touch her cut. Her coat was cold and wet from the snow. He hung it near the fireplace to dry it quicker. He removed her scarf and set it on the table. She was wearing a black long sleeved shirt under. Reaching for the hem of it, he slowly tugged it up her body careful not to wake up her. If she wakes up and finds him taking off her clothes, he knows he's going to get slapped shitless. He slid her arms out of it. Placing a hand at the back of her neck, he lifter her head up a little as he pulled her top off over her head. He also placed her shirt next to her coat. She's wearing a thin camisole over a white bra.

He scanned the rest of her body for any more injuries, flickering from her shoulders down to her torso. It also occurred to him that he didn't miss to look at his partner's feminine form. His eyes travelled to her creamy soft skin, down to the curve of her breasts and to the flat plane of her stomach. Underneath all the thick layers of clothing, this girl has curves that no human being with lower anatomy parts can resist. Feeling like some sort of pervert, he looked away in agitation and mentally shook himself. Damn testosterone.

Ok, Muller. Your partner needs urgent medical help so tear your goddamn eyes away from her and do something about her cut, he berated himself. He rolled the blonde to her front until he could see her wound. He frowned.

"What the hell?" he wondered out loud. The wound is significantly smaller. It stretched five inches from her shoulder. The rest of the wound had closed up and there is no hint of scar of the drill ever hitting her. The fuck just happened? What kind of herbal pills has she been taking? He'd like to get a hit or two. Battle wounds are his best friend since he became a mercenary. His partner's got some explaining to do once she wakes up. Grabbing some antiseptic wipes, he cleaned the wound up. He heard her give a little groan.

"Sorry, Sherry. I know it stings but got to do it," he told her quietly. He slowly tugged the strap of her camisole and bra off her shoulder. Unrolling the bandage, he wrapped it over and around her arm and shoulder covering the wound. Securing it with medical tape, he made sure it was all covered up. He slipped her shoulder back under the strap of her camisole and bra. He kept her on her side lying on her uninjured shoulder to avoid putting weight and pressure on her wound. Glancing around the place, he couldn't find any blankets to cover his partner up. Finding no other choice, he shrugged out of his thick coat and placed it on her, covering her upper body up. Sighing he got up and walked to the window. Nothing much he could do right now.

He found his thoughts wander to the events that happened in the short period of time. Fighting with his platoon, meeting Sherry, running from the huge beast, fighting off Javo's, working with the BSAA and to the mysterious woman saying something about his special blood and his father.

His father.

That's one word that he's never mentioned much. His father was absent throughout his entire life. That prick had abandoned himself and his mom. Needless to say, he doesn't hold him in high regards. Someone like that doesn't deserve his time to be wasted on. So he never really thought about him. It was just mom and me, he thought. That's all the matters. Money was tight and they struggled just to pay the bills. It wasn't fair. He was angry. He's always been angry.

As a kid, he got into fights with the other kids in class. Hell, he spent more time in detention instead of class. That's when he knew he was different. There's something about him that sets him apart from the other kids. He could run faster, jump higher and punch harder. Fighting was one thing he was good at. He can react quicker to situations, calculate when an enemy is going to deliver a blow, know where to block it and form in his head the best way to counter attack. In his teens, he found himself swindling fights to earn some money. He needed to support the only family he has. He fought well and can take on guys twice his size. Now as an adult when he found out that his country is hiring soldiers, he jumped at the chance. It was a great way to earn money and he's got the skills for it. He always made it alive although he had a couple of close calls. However no matter what, he and his mother stuck together. As the saying goes, blood is thicker than water. They'd been through hell and back providing for each other. Now the sudden introduction of his father in his life, he doesn't need that bullshit. As far as he's concerned that pathetic son of a bitch is dead to him. Twenty years of his life was spent without him and it's going to stay that way. All that matters is money.

Speaking of money, he glanced back at his partner. She hasn't moved since he left her lying on her side. It doesn't look like she's going to wake up anytime soon. He walked over to the fireplace and tossed more wood into the fire. He thought about the rendezvous point they have to go to. He really wanted the money. He needed it. Looking out the window he noticed the wind and snow had died down a little. This is the time to head over to be picked up. He reached into the coat pocket of his partner's hanging by the fire. Retrieving her smart phone, he looked up the coordinates for the rendezvous point. After touching the pad a few times, he managed to locate it. It's not too far from their location. He touched the send option on her cell phone and sent to information to his. Putting back her phone in her coat pocket, his eyes went back to his partner. She's still out cold. He should leave now while the climate isn't bad. Gathering his gear, he made sure his weapons and ammo is attached to their holders. He didn't bother taking his coat from Sherry's unconscious form.

Reaching for the handle of the door, he felt a pang of guilt eating at his chest. Should he leave her? Can he leave her? He sighed in frustration as he looked back at her direction. He doesn't understand why the sudden feelings of guilt. He's a mercenary. He does things that needed to be done, no questions asked. The most important thing is that he makes it out of the country in one piece. If his partner got caught in a casualty then that's not his problem. That's just tough. He never feels guilt in the battlefield. He never cares about anyone. So why is this feeling eating him up? If it was anyone else, he wouldn't even have blinked. He would have left their sorry ass behind and save himself. So why is it hard to leave her?

Muller, you've become a damned pansy, a voice in his head yelled at him. It's not his fault she got injured. He carried her to a shelter and patched her up. It's not like he didn't do anything to help her. A dozen other excuses flew by his head. Their mission needs to be completed and even if he has to do it alone, so be it. He's going to get his fifty million dollars.

Pushing his guilty feelings aside, he steeled his emotions as he opened the door. As much as he tried to push them aside, each step he took felt like a hard blow to his chest as he walked further and further away from her.

Her eyelids fluttered open. She felt a pounding headache coming on. She winced. What just happened? Her vision is blurry and groggy. She tried to raise a hand to her face when she felt something warm and thick covering her upper body. That familiar masculine scent whiffed up her nostrils. She waited for a while until her eyes focused clearly. She was lying in a cabin floor with her partner's coat draped over her. Near her was a fireplace keeping her warm. Glancing outside the window, she noticed it had fallen into night time. The wind was howling and a snowstorm was brewing up. She looked around and found herself in a dimly lit cabin with the fireplace the only source of light. Her coat and long sleeved top was hanging near the fireplace and the rest of her belongings were lying on top of the table. She sat up making the coat fall down to her lap and that's when she realized she was only wearing practically just her underwear from the torso up. Pulling her partner's coat around her chest, she looked around the cabin for him.

"Jake?" she whispered.

He's gone.

She swallowed but her throat felt dry and scratchy. She clutched his coat tighter around her. He wouldn't really have left her, would he? She felt herself sink lower on the floor. Silly girl, of course he would. Right from the beginning he made it clear that money is the only thing that he was interested in. It's his only goal and motivation throughout this whole ordeal. The minute she slows him down from reaching his goal, she should have expected him to leave. She closed her eyes. She could feel the strain, worry and stress beginning to overtake her mind and body. If she shows up to her team without Jake, her mission would be a failure. If anything happened to him, the whole world would suffer. He's their only hope for a cure.

"Good. You're finally awake," a low voice called. Shadows danced in the corner of the room and there emerged the mercenary.

She opened her eyes in surprise and looked at the direction of the voice. "Jake!" she cried, relief and happiness washing over her. The room was so dark, she didn't notice him standing in the corner by the window.

He walked slowly towards her and knelt by her side. He gestured towards her shoulder. "How are you feeling? You were pretty much out of it for a while. That asshole really hit you hard," he said as he examined her face. She still looked a little pale but at least some color had returned to her cheeks and lips. Her eyes looked weary and tired but amidst all that she went through, it still held that sparkle of determination.

"I've been much better," she replied. She turned towards her shoulder and found it wrapped securely in bandages. Raising a hand, she undid the medical tape securing it around her arm and shoulder.

"Wait, wait. He cut you pretty bad, you were bleeding all over the place," he said as he put a hand over hers to stop her from taking off her bandages.

"You don't have to worry about me. It's going to take more than a cut to take me down," she replied. He tilted his head questioningly. He removed his hand over hers and she continued to remove the bandage. She dropped them on the floor next to her. Right before his eyes revealed her fair and smooth skin. Not a trace of wound or scar could be seen. He raised a hand and ran his fingertips down her skin where the wound used to be. Unbeknownst to him, it sent a shiver down her spine and it entered her mind that it's not because of the cold.

"You want to tell me how that's happened?"

"Long story," she replied as she rubs her arms to keep them warm. She looked down at her lap.

"Yeah? Maybe it's your blood they should be testing for."

"They already did. More than I could stand," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel her eyelids getting heavier. Her muscles ache and scream in agony from all the things she's done in the space of twenty four hours. She feels like she's going to collapse. She looked up and met his eyes. "I'm glad you're here. You didn't leave."

But I almost did, a silent voice rang in his head. He looked away. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Yeah, well. Couldn't leave my coat behind. You'll freeze if I take it from you and without it I'll freeze my ass off out there."

Sherry felt the corner of her mouth lift a little of what looked like the beginning of an amused smile. "Is that the only reason?"

No, that's not the only reason. There's a lot more reasons than I can count and it's beginning to eat the shit out of me, he thought silently. He recalled the events that happened shortly prior to now.

Trudging along the snow, he forced his legs to carry him further from the cabin. He's halfway there to the meeting point. He tried to keep his mind and focus on the prize. Fifty million dollars. He kept repeating those words in his head until they became a blur and eventually the meaning felt empty and unfulfilling. He felt a prickly sensation rising up in his chest of what felt like conscience banging at the door.

It's not my responsibility to make sure she's ok. She's not my problem. She's a government agent, she knew the risks and dangers of the job. It's not like I care about her.

Does he? Wait, does he, Jake Muller, a professional mercenary actually care about someone?

No, I don't, he told himself mentally. However that nagging feeling creeping up his chest told him that was a lie. Sighing in defeat, he punched the wall of rock he was standing next to. He felt a little better venting out his frustration. He shook his head. He hated this feeling, this whole guilt trip that eats away at you. This whole thing is foreign to him. Fighting off the huge beast was so much easier. At least he knew exactly what to do.

Turning his heel he walked back the way he came from.

He spoke up changing the subject. "Looks like the weather's gonna stay like this for a while. We can't go out like this. Why don't you rest up? Get your strength back. " He noticed the way her eyelids seemed to droop. She looked exhausted and drained. She nodded. She settled back on the floor and tucked herself under his coat.

"I'm gonna let you get some sleep. I'll see if I can gather more stuff to put in the fire." He turned to get up when he felt something tug at his hand. Looking down he saw that she slipped her hand in his, her hand cold under his skin. That stopped him from getting up. He's good at reading people especially their body language and actions. It's what makes him an excellent fighter. When he saw her eyes, it told him all the emotion and message she conveyed as she looked at his. No words needed to be spoken as that one fraction of a second, he saw the vulnerability of the young woman. Her saw her need, her plea and her raw emotion that seemed to pierce his chest.

Please stay.