Chapter 11 – Bad Blood
I can see him coming from the edge of the room
And even with my eyes shut tight
I still see him coming now
I think, I'm breaking down again.
Florence and the Machine
I never meant to make you bleed
But there's a devil inside of me.
Anna Aaron
His head is resting on her breasts. His flat hand lying on her stomach.
They have just loved each other. But they couldn't say it afterwards.
Those three words.
The sound of her heartbeat in his ear but no sound of life under his palm.
Her empty womb. He wishes, he could have said it.
"I would have wanted that child. How could you not?"
But he can't. Because she doesn't remember.
Not aware anymore of what torture her body has gone through.
A lost child. Now a wound, growing to be a scar along the side of her upper body. All his fault.
So he leaves any accusations, any questions be.
She's covered in the sweat of effort and satisfaction. And so is he.
He places a gentle kiss right on the spot above her navel.
"You know … I missed the sounds you make", he says.
"You mean the sounds I make, when you're hurting me? I think, I've had enough for a week."
"Yes, those." She can feel how his lips curl into a smile against her exposed stomach and she can't help but to chuckle herself. "But what I actually meant are the sounds you make, when I fuck you and you get closer and closer …"
"You know what I miss? A shower", she says, ignoring his rude remark.
"Occupied. Jill is having one right now. Can't you hear?"
"Oh … god" She forgot about her. "Do you think … she heard us?"
"Mmmm … yes."
His mouth is still caressing her lower abdomen. He loved how her skin tasted and felt after sex.
It almost feels like time went back to one year ago.
"And that doesn't bother you?" She feels even warmer now. Shame.
"Why should it?"
Nebraska turns serious. "It's because you fucked her too, right? It's not like you have any secrets between one another. Just how stupid do you think I am? Get off me."
He sighs. "Don't start with it …"
"I said, get off me."
"I've discovered something in your nether regions that told me quite the opposite."
She throws her pillow against his face, followed by her sheets. "Rude … just rude … have you always treated me the same back then?" Rhetorical. "You got no fucking manners. Like I said, I've had enough for this week. I'm getting breakfast."
Wesker stays in bed, lying on his back, staring at the blank ceiling.
No matter if blonde, brunette or red. No matter if sane or mad.
There seems to be one thing all women on this planet have in common.
They all like to annoy the crap out of him.
Chris Redfield has spent his night in a tent. He doesn't believe to have slept a single minute.
The wind, first gentle, has turned into a howling horde of wolves over night, keeping him awake.
Little pieces of ice are covering his eyebrows and any part of his face that hasn't been protected well from the cold.
He grabs a pile of snow and throws it into the small pan he brought with him.
One thing he will never have to worry about. Water. This place is pretty much made of it.
Water in its most unpleasant form. But a lifesaver none the less.
He rubs his thickly gloved hands together and starts a fire, using a Bunsen burner.
Doesn't Africa and its massive heat wave suddenly seem like a paradise now?
He misses how the merciless sun stuck his B.S.A.A. shirt to his upper body.
How the sweat ran down his back and legs in an unpleasant way.
How him and his partner Sheva could hardly breathe, while jogging down infected villages.
It's all better than this fucking ice hell.
Good old Sheva. He remembers receiving an invitation to hers and Josh Stone's wedding a few months after the mission had found its end. But he didn't show up.
The state Jill was in dragged him into depths that made the thought of being surrounded by cheering people unbearable.
He didn't want to ruin it for the two of them. Faking a good mood has never been his strength.
So he found an excuse and stayed away.
"Come on", he murmurs to the burner. It's melting the snow way too slow for his taste.
At least he doesn't have time to stick around forever. There's a job to do.
After he had his breakfast, a sandwich and half-warmed tea, he packs his stuff together, strapping his backpack on.
He has studied Leon's map while eating. Now he flips out his compass, watching its black and red needle trying to get into a balance.
He pulls the zipper of his thick jacket as far up as he can, puts sunglasses on to protect his eyes.
No matter if it's Africa or the top of the world. The sun is always trying to kill you.
Sending his prayer towards whoever is up there to support him, he starts walking.
North it will be today.
Nebraska is in the kitchen. Preparing said breakfast, while the red beast sits on the counter.
"Haven't I told you it would end this way?"
Nebraska doesn't react. Change of topic it is then.
"Look at all those pretty knives", he purrs and puts a Lucky Strike between his lips.
Her amber eyes are still firmly focused on the food before her.
"Are you still ignoring me, you betraying whore? I hope, you enjoyed fucking that monster. You two got quite the appetite, don't you? Sickening." He shudders in a theatrical way.
Nebraska swallows, hectic stains on her cheeks.
Still not peeking in his direction she goes over to the fridge to get juice.
She owes nothing to him. Not an explanation, not an excuse.
"Do you know which part was my personal favorite? Where he claimed to love you." He fakes a pleasured laugh. "A good performance from his side indeed. He doesn't even know what love means."
She gets out some toast.
"He won't be long no more", her devil continues. "Both won't be long no more."
Nebraska drops the knife with which she was trying to spread butter on her bread.
Her fingers have gone numb and she walks over to the sink.
Leaning over it. Controlling her breath and the sudden urge to vomit.
"Can't handle the inevitable, huh? Don't try to act all holy. There's no salvation for them."
"Go away", she says quietly. "Please."
"I won't leave until our job is done. Got a lighter? Oh wait …" He snaps his index finger against his thumb, a little flame appearing at the tip of it and with it he lights his cigarette. "Being from hell has its advantages, doesn't it?"
She laughs bitterly. "I wouldn't want to trade with you. Not for any diamond in the world."
"Well, if you prefer your life to be the one of a whore. Go ahead. We both know that no matter what, he will always be fucking both of you. Every single time you wrap your pretty legs around that monster and scream and writhe and moan and-"
"Shut up!", she shouts and smashes the plate on the ground, while he is laughing away.
"What the hell …" Jill entering the kitchen. With big eyes. "Nebraska?"
"Leave me alone, Jill! Everybody leave me the fuck alone!"
"Wesker, do you have any meds here?"
"Excuse me?"
Wesker is sitting in the laboratory. Not writing in his journal like he usually does.
Today he is starting another experiment in stabilizing the Uroboros virus.
Version 2.0 - new and absolutely not improved, as Jill likes to describe it in her thoughts.
She takes a sip of her orange juice, grimacing of how cold it is. It hurts her teeth.
"I said, don't you have any meds here to shut those crazy voices in Nebraska's head off? I thought, I could handle it … but she's starting to scare the crap out of me, Wesker."
His jaw tightens and he drops the pen in his hands.
"We're not running a fucking psychiatry … what do you expect from me? That I strain her to a bed?"
"Well … yes", she carefully agrees. "At least you didn't have any second thoughts to use handcuffs on me as far as I can recall. And I'm completely sane."
"Spare it", he huffs.
Jill is almost amused with how easy it is to drive him insane.
She thought after finally have screwed his Nebraska he would be more relaxed.
But quite the opposite seems to be the case.
She wonders, how awful it must be, if you're never ever content with what you have.
"Whoever this demon is she keeps talking to … it was pretty unsettling seeing her handling a knife before … I'm telling you … that look in her eyes was far from what a person holding one in her hands should look like. I don't want to end up like this woman in Psycho. Stabbed to death in the shower."
Wesker rolls his eyes, picking up his black pen again. "There's nothing to worry about."
"Ah yes?" She cocks a light brown eyebrow. "I'm not superhuman like you two are. A slice in the stomach and I'm done for. Or how about a knife in the back. Right through my lungs. She's a ticking bomb. Trust me. One day she will blow up."
She takes another sip of her OJ.
"Jill, quit it."
She puts the glass down and leans in on him, over the table. Intensely staring at him with those blue eyes. The clear, unblemished blue that the sky carries in the early summer morning.
He tries to not see how she reveals a lot of her breasts with it.
Why does she always have to wear those tight tank-tops?
Jill saw his eyes briefly scanning her chest area and she prevents from smirking.
"Wesker, do you remember our S.T.A.R.S. days and how you always smashed my reports back in my face, when you weren't content with how I filled them out?"
He furrows his brows. Where the hell is she going with this?
"Have I ever complained about it or brought up a word against it?"
"I was your Captain, Valentine. I'm sure you didn't want to find out, what I would have done to you, if you dared to talk against me?"
"Well, it's not like you never gave me hard time. But that was often afterwards …"
She smiled whimsically.
"Jill." His tone is warning.
"Whatever …" She goes back into a standing position, putting her palms on the cold table. "Point is … I have always listened to you back then, Wesker. Always. Please listen to me now. Just this one single time."
"Nice little story, Jill", he concludes. "Are you done?"
Under a sigh Jill gives up. This man could be harder to talk to than a piece of rock.
She doesn't want to break her teeth out trying to get through his shell. At least not today.
Slowly she ambles towards the exit. "Well … I will hold you responsible for it in my death note… oh and before I forget it …" She stops and turns around. As elegant as a ballerina. "Could you keep it down, when in bed with her? You guys kept me up pretty much all night. And this morning too. You're not alone here."
"You didn't seem to bother about the volume, when I was fucking you the other night", he answers calmly.
Jill hated it, when he used that tone.
She hated how he always curled the corner of his mouth in this derisive manner and narrowed his eyes like he was so above her.
She wants to empty her glass of orange juice over his head. See, who will be still cocky then.
"I told you this has never happened", she seethes.
"Too much has happened for it not to happen. Get out, Valentine. I'm working."
"Have you heard anything from Chris?"
Claire picks up her pace to catch up with Leon. She hates, walking in snow.
Constantly having to be on your feet is a nuisance already, but dragging her heavy boots through thick snow is even more annoying. And tiring.
"Not yet", Leon answers, briefly stopping to wait for her. His stamina is definitely higher than hers.
"Oh … do you think he is alright?", she asks, panting white clouds into the frozen air.
"Yes, dear. Don't worry. Chris can look after himself. We both know it."
Claire sighs affected. "But he's all alone down there … up there … whatever. And maybe closer to Wesker than we are. I have a feeling we're not going to find what we are seeking for here. It's like Chris always said … him and Wesker seem to share a future. And a fate."
"It's not certain yet, Claire."
"Do you really think he will do it?"
"Who will do what?"
"Wesker … do you think he will … phew, sorry. I'm out of breath." She leans forward, placing her hands on her upper thighs to regain some of her lungs function back.
"I thought you liked working out. Building up endurance, you know", he smiles.
"Shut up … I think, you're mistaking me for Chris. He likes to hit the gym way too often."
"Hard to not notice", Leon remarks dryly. "So, what is it that you wanted to ask about Wesker?"
"If he will really give his doomsday project a second try?"
"I can't imagine why not. At least it's his vision. But imagine how pissed off he will be, if Chris ruins his plans once more."
"Please … I don't wanna think about this. That's the part that worries me the most."
"So you're not worried about the planet being consumed by a virus that will pretty much erase all of its population?", Leon says, a slight sarcastic tone dripping in his voice.
Claire shrugs. Suppressing a smile. "Why should I? Sibling love wins over everything."
"Oh you … you sound like an episode of Carebears" He leans in to peck her cheek. "Come on, let's get going. Enough time to powder your pretty nose. We gotta bring another ten kilometers behind us today."
"I thought, you are the one, who likes powdering his nose", she gives back.
Leon chuckles. "Not really … but I always have my comb with me."
"Of course", Claire laughs. "We don't wanna scare any penguins off with your hair out of place."
"Oh come on, Claire. We both know that you totally fell for my fancy hairstyle."
Claire giggles, bending over from how it is hurting her stomach muscles. "Stop it, Leon. I'm serious … I can't walk no more."
A grin on his face, he lets her calm down. She sighs satisfied, enfolding his upper arm.
"I'm glad, you're here with me, Leon. Thanks for the distraction."
"You know, if it weren't so cold right now, I'd totally peel you out of your clothing, Claire", he winks.
"Listen to you", she says teasing. "But even if we could do it. I bet that's the moment, where my phone would go off, right?"
"But this time a call from Chris would be welcome", he admits.
She lowers her gaze to the white powdery surface below. "Yes. More than welcome."
Wesker opens the door to Jill's room and finds her lying in her bed.
Blue eyes set on the ceiling.
"What do you want?", she says without looking at him.
"Your dose", he replies. "You want it … right?"
"Oh …" Jill swallows and slowly sits up, acting like she hasn't felt the sweat break through her skin already. Acting like she hasn't noticed that slight shake of her fingers that started just a few minutes ago.
She rolls up the sleeve of her dark blue sweater. Her fair skin standing in contrast to its dark color.
The bend of her arm is punctuated with tiny red dots. Some of them slightly bruised.
"Looks like we need to find another vein. Roll up your other sleeve", he demands.
Jill obeys. He has taken his gloves off, searching for a good spot with his bare fingertips.
She moves her head in the other direction to not have to see him injecting the needle in her skin.
It is enough to feel it. She bites her lower lip and closes her eyes as the liquid fills her.
He throws the empty syringe away. She can hear it clang.
But she can't hear the sound of his boots stepping away.
"Aren't we done?", she asks. Irritated.
"Not yet. There's a question I'd like to ask you."
With a shrug of her shoulders she signalizes for him to go on. 'Whatever' the gesture says.
"I find myself wondering about something. More and more."
"And what is that supposed to be?"
"Well, analyzing the recent events and your behavior towards me, I'm curious to find out, if I came to the correct conclusion."
"Stop all that babbling, Wesker. Get to the point."
He chuckles. Dark as usual. "Is it possible that you are visited by a widespread disease known as … jealousy?"
Jill furrows her brows. Enraged. "What? Of Nebraska and you? Fuck yourself, I'm not jealous."
Annoyed she gets up and rushes towards the exit to get out. Away from him.
She is not having this kind of conversation with him. Not down here. Not now. Not ever.
But of course he's faster. He pins her to the wall. Her wrists enfolded by his gloved hands.
Sending intense glares. Bending down.
He is so close. So close to grazing her lips.
"You're just confused, aren't you Jill? It's almost like you're twenty-two again."
"I love Chris", she answers weakly.
"Then why do you bother so much about me and Nebraska? It's not like it's your business, is it?"
A lump in her throat. A lump that slowly wanders down to permeate into a lustful boiling feeling inside her stomach. Between her legs. It almost hurts.
"I don't care about her, Wesker."
"Then why is it so hard for you to resist me?"
The tip of his tongue brushing over her full bottom lip, robbing every possibility to think clearly.
"I can resist you", she says. But her voice is anything but steady. Close to staggering.
"Ah yes." He chuckles darkly. "It seems quite the contrary to me … you like real men, Jill. Why else would you have chosen me to be your first one? And not your beloved Chris?"
Unfortunate for her she can't think of an immediate, and satisfying, answer.
"You like a leading hand, don't you Jill?" He grabs for her ponytail, slightly forcing her head backwards. "No, you need a leading hand. You have needed it back then and you still need it now."
"Now you'd like to believe that, don't you", she answers bitterly. "I can't wait for Chris to finally kill you off."
To her distaste Wesker only reacts amused.
"Chris, Chris …", he purrs. "How long do you think will he look for you this time before he gives up? Another three years? And what then … how about this, Valentine. He'll find someone else. He'll fuck someone else. He'll forget about you. Life goes on, you know."
"At least I will know, what it feels like to have been loved", she says quietly. "Do you really think Nebraska is capable of loving you? Just look at you, all pathetic. Go ahead, if you feel like it. Fuck me. You're nothing but a cheating bastard. Cheating back then and cheating now."
"Don't act like you're the innocent one in this", he growls.
"I told you this has never happened", she hisses.
"What about Raccoon City?"
"What the hell … that's so many years ago. I forced myself to forget about it."
"I don't believe that, Valentine."
"Well … your fault, Wesker. You have ruined it back then. I'm even glad you did it. Because now I see that it was the best thing that could happen to me."
"You enjoyed every single second I fucked you back then. And you still do it now. I'm not asking for you to admit it. I know it with certainty."
"You're …" For a moment the ability to speak leaves her.
"I'm what?" He leans in again, so close to kissing her.
"You're the most unbelievable person I have ever met in my life. And I mean this in a bad way. Just … let me go. This minute."
"No", he simply says, not moving an inch away from harassing her personal space.
Jill sighs. Not putting up a fight. Because deep inside she is aware that a part of her is enjoying his ravishing.
It thrills her in an unexpected way.
"That night you left … and each night in Africa you took a part of me away. One tiny part. And even now, I am waiting for the day I might be getting them back … those pieces you broke off me …"
"I have saved your life, Valentine."
"That doesn't matter anymore. I'm aware that I will owe you forever for it, but know that at the same time you gave me life, you also took something away from me. Pumping me full and sleeping with me … how could this have been part of your plan? Don't deny that you felt something for me. Don't deny that it wasn't just about breaking Chris."
Unspoken the memories get back to her.
How hot it was to lie in his embrace. How deep she felt him. How she believed to be dying in pleasure.
And shame. And lust. And pain.
"You like musing about the past, don't you?
"You're the one, who started it. You don't even understand how much you have hurt me back then, Wesker. You always gave a fuck about me and my emotions. All you needed was your dick to get wet, whenever you felt like it."
"Said the seductress in Eden's garden."
"Then say it. Say that you never felt something for me."
The grip around her wrists turns harsher and Jill holds in a groan.
"I don't know, what that was between us back then, Valentine", he says honestly. "I think we both put too much expectation into it."
"Maybe …" Her answer is quiet. Her heart pounding. Why?
"I have work to do", he suddenly says.
Her wrists are free. And Wesker gone.
A vibration in her pocket makes her jump up.
"Oh my god, it's Chris." Immediately she accepts the call.
"Hello?"
"Sister-heart. Have you and Leon built a snowman already over there?"
"Chris, my love", she says relieved. "You can't even imagine how good it is to hear your voice."
"Why? Have you been worried about your grizzly bear of a brother?"
She giggles. "Only a little bit …"
"And?", he continues. "Stumbled over anything interesting yet?"
"Well, apart from the fact that Leon makes fun of me being totally unfit, nothing has happened."
Leon throws an amused look in her direction and she sticks her tongue out to him.
He is bent over a pan. Trying to warm some soup for them.
"Does it sound weird that there's a feeling in my gut that tells me that you're closer to Wesker than we are?"
It is silent between them and for a moment, she believes the connection is lost.
But a brief look on her display shows that time is still running.
She presses it back against her ear and hears him sigh.
"Honestly? You're not the only one, who feels that way, Claire."
"This time it will be serious, won't it?", she asks quietly.
Once again Chris takes his time to answer. "I think so … but try not to worry about me, sweetie. I'm a big boy by now, huh?"
A soft smile appears on her features. She feels like crying.
Never has she desired so much to have his strong arms around her, telling her that everything will be fine.
"Could you get Leon on the phone for me for a minute?"
"Sure. I'll hand it to him."
Wordlessly she stretches the phone towards Leon.
"Chris? Everything alright over there?", he greets him.
"Man, do you know that I miss Africa by now? Even stomping through the sand of the Gobi desert would be more welcome."
Leon chuckles. "I get you, trust me. Is the map I gave you any good?"
"I think, I'm on the right track, Leon. As eerie as it sounds, but I have a feeling that within the next few days I'll be meeting a ghost from the past."
"Where are the Ghostbusters when you need them?"
"True that. Listen, that mountain area you have marked on the map. It might be leading to something … I can already see them far in the distance. But with the unpredictable weather conditions it might be another week of travel until I get there. If not even more."
"I'd like to say how exciting this sounds, but it's Wesker we're talking about here. So all I can say is good luck out there. And Chris … take care. I'd like to pay you a beer, when we get back."
"Make it two. Or three. Depending on my return", Chris jokes before turning serious again. "I'll do everything that is necessary. And you take care of Claire. Please. She is the only family I have left."
"I know", Leon says and throws a loving look to his girlfriend. "She has all my protection … Catch you later, okay?"
The phone is back in Claire's hands and Leon pours some soup into two bowls.
"It looks like dinner is ready", she says to Chris.
"Listen Claire, I gotta go."
"I was afraid you would say that", she sighs. "Take care. I love you, dumbass."
"And I love you, little monster."
Sadly she hangs up, accepting the bowl Leon hands her. It's wonderfully warm in her palms.
Silently they start to eat.
Wesker is clutching his journal against the side of his body, walking towards the laboratory room.
Today he wants to find out how the experiment he has started a few days ago turned out.
He is surprised to see Nebraska standing in it already.
Good, maybe she could help him with a few things.
But what he sees, lets a weight drop into his stomach.
The drawer of his desk is open. The drawer with the diary.
He freezes in motion.
When Nebraska turns her body towards him, he can see that she has been crying.
"That book …" She says bland. "It's about us, isn't it?"
He doesn't answer, but still she understands. Too well.
"Oh god … why haven't you told me about it?"
"Because I didn't want you to remember that dark chapter of your past. Nebraska, I'm sorry. You weren't meant to .."
"Find it?", she interrupts, hurt. "I was pregnant, Wesker. Pregnant with our child."
"And you've lost it." He inhales deeply when the memory of him reading those lines for the first time comes back to him. Awful. Just awful. "You've lost it, because you wanted it that way."
"Fucking bastard, how dare you talk to me like that?"
Wesker remains calm. "It's the truth Nebraska. I thought, you've read the words. You rejected the child. You rejected the thought of it from the very beginning on. I don't know what you've done to it to make it go away. But I'm sure it wasn't natural."
"Shut up, you liar!"
The red devil is next to him. "This time he is telling the truth, sweetheart. The truth. You used an iron coat-hanger. Ripped it apart. Bent it."
„What have you done, Nebraska?" His voice is soaked with disappointment.
"Shoved it inside of you and scraped until you were almost bleeding to death. Don't you remember?"
He laughs. "Wow … what a blood feast it was. Like a good time in a slaughter house."
"No, no, no." She slowly sinks to the ground and bursts out in tears.
Burning her pale skin once more with salty water.
Pressing her fists against her temples to pound all those voices out.
At this moment Wesker sees what Jill meant. The ticking time bomb. Ready to explode.
He doesn't want to console her. Right now he doesn't care about her, because she deserves suffering.
"You have killed it, haven't you?" He slowly shakes his head. "How could you act so … low? I thought so well of you once. I even admired you. But you're just weak. Like everybody else."
"I'm not weak …", she whispers, staring ahead without blinking. "You are. Sleeping with Jill, thinking that I wasn't aware of it. You're no better. Don't shove all the dirt on my side."
"That is something different."
"Something …. different?", she spits derisively. "Then tell me what it was. I'd like to hear very much what the hell it was."
"You wouldn't understand."
The beast rolled its fiery eyes. "Well explained … kill him, Nebraska. I have heard enough. From the beginning on I have told you that he would bring misery. Do it. Now."
Nebraska swallows. Not reacting to his words. Although her fingertips tingle.
If only a weapon would be near.
"I have loved you … how could you do this to someone, who has loved you?"
"What the hell is going on here?" Jill. She heard the raised voices.
"None of your business. Go back to your room, Jill", Wesker says without ever taking his calculating eyes off Nebraska.
"If that isn't the whore of Babylon", Nebraska says disgusted. "Why don't you go with her, Wesker? She'll spread her legs for you. You won't have to ask twice."
Jill narrows her eyes and takes a few angry steps towards her, but Wesker yanks her back.
By grabbing both of her upper arms and pulling her against him.
"Don't Jill", he says warning.
"Haven't you heard what she said?", Jill complains, trying to fight herself out of his grip. "Will you let her talk to me like that or what?"
Nebraska tries to get up from her crouching position on the ground, searching for something to hold on to with the palm of her hands.
She finds the ledge of the laboratory counter, pulling herself up, leaning against it.
There's a challenging look on her face. A bitter smile.
For a moment Jill has to think of the Joker. She truly reminds her of the Joker.
"I'm just saying out loud what he told me today."
"Will you shut up", Jill hisses. "You're crazy, Nebraska! That devil you're talking about … he doesn't fucking exist, don't you get it?! It's all in your stupid head!"
The amber in Nebraska's slightly lights up.
"Take that back", she growls.
"Jill", Wesker says quietly. "Be careful. The virus inside of her."
"I don't care and you're hurting me, Wesker", she breathes, trying to break free again. "Let me go."
He doesn't. His grip slightly loosens, but he makes sure Jill doesn't take another unnecessary step more in Nebraska's direction.
"He is the most honest of all down here", Nebraska says. "He opened my eyes for the truth. To see what's really going on around here. And you know what … talking about the truth. Yes, I have killed that child. I have stabbed it inside my womb. How does it feel, Wesker?"
Jill whimpers as the fingertips of his gloved hands dig themselves into the flesh of her upper arms.
"Aaah, you're breaking my bones", she whines.
Immediately he lets go, scared of his sudden fury.
He can't be gentle anymore now. But as he speaks up his voice is smooth as satin and cold as ice.
It sends shivers down Jill's pine.
"Get the fuck out of here, Nebraska. I don't want to see you anymore today. Or I swear I will fucking hurt you."
Jill watches that scene like a lost passenger. Standing in the middle of a terrible storm.
Rubbing her aching upper arms.
The air seems to be charged with electricity as Wesker's and Nebraska's alien hues fight for dominance over each other. It's like they're trying to kill each other with looks only.
Nebraska is the first one, who gives in.
Quickly she steps out of the room, down the hallway and shuts the door to her room behind her.
With force.
Both don't see her anymore. The whole day.
Nebraska's clothes are lying on the ground in a mess.
Shoved off her body like acid would eat its way through the thin fabric.
She looks at herself in the mirror. At the scar she is carrying.
The burning one on the side of her ribs.
Her amber eyes wander to her stomach.
Carefully she touches it. No scars there. Every inch is flawless. Undamaged.
But it looks different on the inside.
The white it has finally been dishonored … I felt nothing … Those words in the book.
Shoved it inside of you and scraped until you were almost bleeding to death.
His words are echoing in her mind. Pondering about the truth they contained.
She is weak, Wesker said. Weak like everybody else. Maybe he is right.
There is no spark left inside of her that could ignite the last bit of life. The last will.
She has always been tired. So very tired.
Only hateful looks. Only accusations. Following her into her nightmares.
"So, here we are again." The red devil puts his claws on her shoulders.
There's mercy in his eyes. Understanding. Almost pity.
„You know what you have to do, sweetheart, don't you?"
Nebraska looks at him. There's no fear in her eyes.
And she nods.
At night Jill pays Wesker a visit in the laboratory.
She doesn't understand how after a confession like this, after an argument like this, he can still have the ability to focus on work.
Well, there is a load of things she doesn't understand about him.
She could have filled hundreds of pages with it.
"Rough day, eh?" Real sympathy in her voice, trying to ease up the dark mood down here.
It's so heavy, almost choking her the whole day already.
"Nobody said they'd ever be easy", he answers, looking up from the microscope.
Jill smiles. Funny how Wesker still tries to play the strong, not affected one.
But she reads it in his behavior. And his eyes.
He doesn't hide them down here, because there's nothing he could hide from Jill.
"Do you … need something?", she asks cautiously. "You've been here all day and almost all night already. It's two in the morning."
"Is it? Must have lost track of time", he says unimpressed. "You're aware that I don't require as much sleep as an ordinary human, don't you Jill?"
She cocks her head. "Of course, I'm aware of that. Still … I just wanted to know, if you're alright."
"How sweet of you" His voice is filled with sarcasm. "Listen Valentine. Don't worry about me. Go and get some sleep."
Jill steps out of the room and at first he believes for her to have gone back to bed.
But she returns. With a cup of tea and a sandwich that she starts nibbling on.
He furrows his brows. "Does this really have to happen in here?"
"Yes", she replies, mouth full of bread. "I don't wanna be alone … not when she is on the loose …"
"Oh …", he simply says. "Of course … Then stay."
Almost guiltily she eyes him. Ashamed of being such an anxious little girl sometimes. "Thanks."
Jill enjoys her food and lets him do his work.
At least for a little while. It's always strange sitting in complete silence with him.
Only people like Wesker could feel comfortable in situations like that. Unbelievable to her.
She can't blame him though. No one has ever taught him the social protocol.
"Can I ask you something?" She takes a careful sip of tea. Good. It's not too hot anymore.
"If it has to be", he growls, writing something down in his journal.
"How do you imagine it to continue with her? It's pretty much proven by now that she's a case for a mental institution for the rest of her life."
Now he finally seems to acknowledge her presence by looking at her.
To her relief he doesn't look angry or irritated. Only thoughtful.
And in the end he only shrugs.
"Really, Wesker? That's all you have to say about her … confessions?"
"Yes, Jill. There's nothing I could say anyway. The damage has been done, hasn't it?"
Sadly she swallows. Feeling sorry about the unborn life Nebraska has killed.
She has always wished to be a mother herself. But with the loss of her fertility due to P30 this will stay nothing but a fantasy.
There are so many more questions she wants to ask him.
Have you ever imagined to be a father?
How do you think would it have felt to hold your own child in your arms?
How can you still consider being with her after what she has done to it?
But they are personal. So very personal. And she doesn't want to dig that deep in his privacy.
So she finds other words instead.
"She is cruel, Wesker. So incredibly cruel."
Her numb fingertips soak in the warmth of the mug. The scent of fruit tea permeating in her nose.
"I know", he quietly says, picking something off a petri dish using a pair of tweezers.
"I hope, she'll pay for it one day."
"She will get what she deserves. Don't worry, Jill. It's called Karma."
Jill softly smiles. "So you believe in stuff like that?"
Wesker snorts. Slightly amused. "Yes, Jill. I believe in 'stuff' like that."
"You know what … me too", she admits. "And I especially believe in it in this very moment."
She lets him finish investigating the little black pieces, taking notes in his journal.
She suppresses a smile, when she remembers, how he had a go at her a few weeks ago.
She was in charge of filling in his reports, while he dictated everything to her. Word by word.
Being left-handed she smeared most of the ink.
It was his own fault though. He put her under pressure, hardly caring to repeat a word twice.
A day in the life of being Albert Wesker's secretary, she thinks nostalgic.
In comparison to her his writing is neat and perfect. He's better off alone.
It's her turn to continue the interview.
"What is the true reason you brought me here, Wesker?"
He sighs. "You know why. I need your anti-bodies."
"But you have my anti-bodies already … you could easily dump me somewhere in a crevasse. Only that you don't …"
"Then you tell me, Jill. Because I have no clue, where you're trying to take this."
She takes another careful sip, savoring the sweet taste on her tongue before swallowing it.
"I know why", she says then. "You need someone, who ties you to reality, don't you? … Someone, who reminds you of who you are. Because of this … madness surrounding you."
The pen in Wesker's hands stops moving.
And Jill knows that she stroke something inside of him. Something that comes close to the truth.
"Maybe", he admits, continuing writing his sentence.
But he gets interrupted again. By her hand. She has placed it on top of his.
A familiar touch in the right moment.
And he doesn't pull away.
For ages he seems to stare at her pale hand touching him lightly before turning his palm upwards to enfold it.
It's like saying sorry about the past, the present, the future.
Becoming clean with your conscience and all the mistakes you have done. One touch.
"Were you in love with me back then?", she asks quietly.
So quietly. A mere whisper.
Like her voice would break the atmosphere and destroy its intensity.
"Jill, I'm working."
"Work, work, work", she says tired. "You always have to work Wesker. Let us have this one conversation. You had the conversation you wanted. Now let's have the one, I need. Please."
"There is no conversation we need to have."
"There is. We both know it. So, I'm asking you again: were you in love with me back in STARS?"
"I don't know", he honestly answers. Finally giving in to reason.
"What about Africa?"
"It was never love. We both know it."
"Then what about now? This one moment …"
"Jill …", he says, slightly shaking his head.
Stop this, it says. Stop this and prevent yourself from getting hurt.
But still she stays persistent. Her heartbeat hammering against her chest in an unbearable way.
"Please, Wesker. I need to know."
If it's to finally finish a chapter of the past or become clear of his true intentions, she can't tell.
She needs to hear it.
"I don't' love you, Jill", he says then, letting go off her hand. "I have never loved you."
"Then tell me what you want from me?"
"I want nothing from you. Absolutely nothing. All I want is for you to go back to bed."
He is lying. Must be lying.
Jill swallows down that lump that has been sitting in her throat for such a long time already, letting it poison her stomach and destroy her heart. Why does it hurt so much hearing that?
What did she expect of him anyway? To propose to her on his knees?
Nebraska has told him awful things today and all she can do is be selfish, only thinking of what kind of emotions he could bring up for her.
Without wishing him a good night, she goes back to her room.
Leaving her half-finished tea on the laboratory table.
She grabs Wesker's magnum. His S&W 500.
It's incredibly heavy in her hands. Cold. Powerful.
She has seen him putting it into one of the laboratory drawers the other day.
Three bullets. She puts three bullets into it.
One for him. One for her. One for the devil.
"Nebraska." Wesker's voice.
Jill is standing behind him. Like a deer frozen in the headlights of a car.
"Put that away. Right now."
Only that she doesn't. The grip around it intensifies and slowly she lifts it.
The trigger cocks.
"I swear if you don't put that down now …"
"What, Wesker, what?", she says challenging. "You're all just liars down here. All of you. Filthy, dirty liars. You're probably making plans on how to kill me, while fucking each other at night. Don't you?"
"Nebraska. Let's talk … but put it down first."
"No", she answers quietly. "You have always told me what to do. It's time to reverse it."
The next sound is the one of a shot.
Echoing so loud. It's like a haunted mansion down here. Every wave bouncing off the walls.
And someone screams in pain. Jill.
In agony she crashes to the ground, holding her right shoulder.
Nebraska stares at her like a ghost. All color gone from her face. Madness in her eyes.
Her arm seems to have gone numb for a second.
And suddenly it feels like the bone has popped out of her shoulder. Her muscles writhing.
"Holy shit …", she mutters. Impressed.
Despite the possible injury she raises it once more. For him.
"You're next motherfucker", she says.
"I doubt that", he growls, charging at her using his incredible speed.
If necessary he would have dodged her bullet, but she seems to be too stunned.
He enfolds her wrist with his gloved hand, almost breaking it and rips the gun out of her hand.
He pins her on the table. Pressing his knee against her upper thighs to prevent her from kicking him.
Her back is bent uncomfortably against the ledge. She groans.
But that sound is swallowed by Jill's endless screams of pain.
He grinds his teeth, his jaw is tense with anger.
But he finds no words to say to Nebraska. No words.
"Go ahead. Kill me. It's what you want to do, right? Kill me and fuck her next to my dead body."
An eerie smiles appears on her features. "Kill me … kill me … KILL ME!"
Repeated like a sick mantra. An even sicker religion.
He grabs her by her throat and throws her in the room next door. Carelessly.
Closing the door. Locking it. And she is laughing manically away.
"You're all going to die. He said it … he said it! We're all going to hell!"
She curls herself on the ground. Like a fetus. Still smiling to herself.
Waiting for the end.
Jill cries. And cries. And cries. Kicking around her, when he puts her on the table.
He has brought her to the medicine facility. As fast as he could.
The shot has gone right through her shoulder.
Which means that at least there's no bullet he will have to remove. A straight, clean shot.
He is glad that this little slut hasn't stroke a vital vein. Nor is it near her heart.
Because then he wouldn't have been able to save her.
Then he could have watched her die on the ground.
Absolutely helpless. Seeing her getting to the end, while shaking with pain.
Not today though. At least someone seems to be on their side.
He hooks her to the IV.
"Jill", he says intensely. "Jill, I'm going to treat your wound. I need you to stay with me."
"Jesus Christ! It fucking hurts!"
Once again she screams, shutting her eyes tightly. Writhing in pain.
"I will kill this bitch! I will kill her!"
There's an inferno burning in her shoulder. Hotter than hell.
Her nerves tortured in the worst ways imaginable.
Her flesh torn apart, her collarbone and shoulder blade splintered.
Drops of sweat are running over her forehead.
"I will fucking cut her head off!", she growls through teeth gritted in pain.
The fucking pain.
She breaks out in tears as Wesker wipes the cloth with the disinfectant over her shoulder.
The next thing he thrusts into her arm is the blood transfusion.
It is everywhere. The sharp, iron scent of blood.
Scarlet stains on the shiny steel surface of the table. On his clothes. On the floor.
But there's no time to get sick about it.
"Jill", he says once more, putting the palms of his hands to the left and right of her head.
Forcing her to look at him. Her blue hues find his crimson ones.
"I will get to your bones now. Stay with me, alright?"
Her breath exits in ragged pants. A torture of inhales and exhales. But she nods.
"Okay … okay", she manages to say.
"You must tell me, if you feel dizzy. Did you hear me? It's important."
"Okay." Wesker's voice is only reaching her through a layer of beating sounds in her head.
Her own heartbeat. Racing. A run for life and death.
"Please, Wesker", she weeps now. "I can't do this. I can't do this …. I want to die … Let me die."
Hysterical tears run over her face. Heartbreaking.
"Jill, I can't put you under anesthetics. The risk is too big."
What if you don't wake up anymore? I don't want to lose you. I couldn't stand to lose you.
"I'll give you a shot of morphine. And if it gets unbearable bite into this …"
He hands her a towel, the only clean thing he could get hold of in this moment.
"Everything will be fine. I will fix you, Valentine … Be strong now … For me."
With her undamaged arm she clutches the towel tightly against her chest.
Like this piece of rough fabric is the last thing that keeps her to reality.
And him. His face. She never loses focus on it, when the worst part of the treatment starts.
Tears are running down her face, while he picks bone splinter after bone splinter out.
She can see that it hurts him too. That he is suffering.
She can see it in his frown. In the way his eyes suddenly seem to carry a fire of determination.
She wants to say something. Feels like saying something.
By now the pain has reached levels that make her want to vomit. And scream even more.
But the morphine is kicking in fast, lifting her up into higher levels that silence her.
At least she believes to be silent.
She can hardly feel a thing no more. She can't even hear herself.
All noises are shut out like she's sitting behind thick glass.
The sweat is running down in streams now, gathering in every hollow of her body.
Soon there's another needle in her arm. The familiar rush of P30 in her veins.
He becomes a blur and her eyes shut.
The next three days are the worst of her life.
The wound pulsates like a sick living organism. Alive with agony.
Sometimes it makes her vomit.
Waves of incredible pain run through her entire body.
Like a hammer on iron. Or the devil groping around inside of it with his burning blade.
There's nothing else than her and the pain united in hell. Even when Wesker comes in.
They never exchange a word, when he treats her.
They don't even look at each other.
Not once.
Sometimes he can hear her crying at night. Or screaming in pain.
Whimpering that she wants to die.
But he can't go to her at such times.
Just can't.
He would turn his hands into fists, trying to shut out those sounds.
Stepping away from that room, she is caged in.
And lock himself in the laboratory to work.
He doesn't sleep the next 120 hours.
Jill is in the bathtub, when he enters.
Wordlessly he sits down at the edge of it, snapping the white cloth with which she was washing herself out of her hand.
"You were right", he breaks the silence between them.
It has been lasting for five days.
Gently he brushes over her wound. Washing off dried blood.
It is a dark red color in the middle that slowly fades into a black and purple bruise towards the outside.
Jill grimaces from the pain. But there's no sound coming out of her.
"I should have listened to you", he continues and dips the cloth into the soapy water, squeezing it in his fist. The water turns slightly red around it.
"I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry, Jill."
He hands it back to her, getting up to leave.
"Wesker." Her throat hurts. It feels like she hasn't spoken in years.
She has to swallow before she can continue. "Join me."
Wesker turns around. Eyeing her with interest.
"In the bathtub?"
Jill suppresses a gentle smile. "Where else, genius?"
He undresses himself and gets in behind her, careful to not touch her injured shoulder.
He is aware that she'll never be able to properly move it again.
He did, what he could, when fixing her.
But whatever there is left of her bones would grow back together to a stiff mass.
Torturing her for the rest of her life.
He puts his arm around her waist, right under her breasts, placing a kiss in the nape of her neck.
The well-known shiver, whenever he touches her, runs down her spine.
Her skin feels cold. Even the water isn't that warm anymore.
"How long have you been in here already?", he asks.
"I don't know … around forty-five minutes, I guess."
She takes the wash cloth back into her hand. Fiddling with it.
"Do you want me to clean the wound on your shoulder blade?"
"Yes", she quietly says. "Please."
She tries to think of spring meadows and tropical islands to shut the pain out, but it's not working well.
She softly groans, momentarily believing to lose her senses. He stops.
"We should leave it for today. Let me disinfect and bandage it."
Jill sighs. "Look at us, Wesker … both scarred for life. It's probably pitiable to look at."
He leans his chin on her healthy shoulder, tingling her skin with even more kisses.
Oh, how she had missed this.
She wishes, she could have put her back against his chest, but her damn shoulder made it impossible.
"All that matters is that you're alive, Valentine."
"I'm like a cat with nine lives, aren't I?", Jill says, smiling sadly. "You have saved me twice already. Only seven more times to go."
"Those seven lives better stay untouched."
She decides to turn around and place herself on top of him.
She wants to hold him. As much as she can manage at least.
She can't lift her right arm and therefore only lays it around his waist, gingerly, while her left arm finds his neck.
"I don't even know, how I can thank you, Wesker … I owe you so much by now, don't I?"
He places his hands right below her behind, pressing her against him. "As long as you're here …"
Trying to kiss her, he leans in. But she keeps him at a distance first, brushing her slightly parted lips against his without ever getting too close for full-on.
"I want you", she whispers and takes him into her undamaged left hand.
Stroking. Slow, slow, slow. Making him hard.
Letting out a long sigh of satisfaction, she lets him spread her. At a delicious pace.
"Ah Wesker", she sighs. Spelling out his name in sweetest surrender.
"Shh, quiet, Valentine." But there's amusement hidden in his tone. And dark, serious lust.
He rocks her against him, hard. Groping for her behind and stomach, stroking over the skin between her breasts, keeping her steady.
She softly laughs in enjoyment. A laugh that fades into a shallow sigh.
This is heavenly.
Sleeping with Chris felt good. It carried the meaning of true love.
But Wesker. He is something completely different.
He takes her apart. Makes her forget where North, East, South and West are.
Just to put her back together again.
"God … I want to scream", she breathes lustfully into the steamy air.
"You won't, Jill", he purrs, nipping along her jawline. "You won't."
Both find their release. Silencing each other with intense kisses.
They both get out and he puts a towel around her and himself.
Carefully to not get in touch with her injury.
"I need to treat your wound now."
Back to reality. Gruesome reality.
Drowsily she nods and lets him do what is necessary, before he takes her into his room.
He lets himself fall on the edge of the bed, Jill on top of him, straddling him.
Slowly he peels her out of her towel.
"It's like unwrapping a present, isn't it?", she jokes.
He only shows her a light smile in return. Still she can see self-accusation nagging on his mind.
"Hey", she says softly, leaning her forehead against his, enfolding the nape of his neck. "I'm fine."
Her fingers follow his example and she starts her attempt in uncovering him.
"I'll be quiet like a lamb this time. Promise", she says lowly.
Now he chuckles. "No need for that."
"Well … that's good. Because the lamb likes sleeping with you. Always has."
"That's great to hear, but … not anymore tonight, Jill."
"Why not?"
"I want you to rest. I want you to get well. We already brought you to your limits in the bathtub before. I shouldn't have allowed it."
She lets her hand run over his scarred cheekbone. "But you'll stay with me, won't you?"
"If you want me to, I will."
"What about Nebraska? What will we do about her?"
Gently he strokes a dark strand of her hair behind her ear. "I'll deal with her tomorrow."
"No", she says quietly. "Promise me to let me do it."
"Jill …"
"I will do it, Wesker. Just as much as I will sleep with you again. Right now. I want to feel something else for a change. Something else but that fucking pain that is constantly itching my shoulder. I want to feel you. It's all I want to feel."
She dares to put her lips on his. Warm, gentle and inviting for more.
"Jill …", he interrupts her caressing.
"I'm not finished. I don't care what you think or say, but I did feel something for you, Wesker … I think, I was in love with you fifteen years ago … And I'm still in love with you now."
Wesker exhales audibly. Unsure what to do. What to say.
"If you really feel that way, then what about Chris?"
"I don't know … I really believed for him to be the one. I always have. But why doesn't he make me feel the way that you do?"
"Jill … you aren't master of your senses. Nor your words."
"Wesker", she says intensely. "Do I look like I suffered a shot in the head? I'm clear in my mind. Clearer than ever … hell, I'm naked in your arms right now."
"Please, don't do this to me … not now."
"Then when? We both know there will never be the right time. I'm not asking for your love in return. Because I know that you can't love me … that you never have loved me."
"What is it that you want?", he asks.
"I have told you already. I want you inside of me until my body is so numb that not the tiniest bit of pain is left … I want you to consume me. Piece by piece … until there's nothing in my mind, but the connection between us. And the love I feel for you …"
He doesn't want to hear anymore.
He doesn't want to hear that she loves him, because it's wrong.
He doesn't want to hear her convincing words anymore. Her luring.
But most of all he doesn't want to break her heart.
So he kisses her. As hard as he can. Pressing her pelvis against him.
Letting her sigh her love against his mouth, when she takes him inside of her the second time tonight.
Relished in her unbearable sweetness.
Tomorrow will come. Tomorrow they will kill. Tomorrow they will be alone with each other.
Tomorrow she will the only person by his side. And maybe then.
Maybe then he will be able to say, what he wants from her.