Author's Note: Alrighty, the update's here, as it should. I'd like to say this is the other chapter where the thing goes down the pan and where the plot (real plot) starts for real -excuse the repetition xD Okay, I hope you like this one... and something caught my attention: in every single one of the reviews, I've been asked not to make Wesker's scars permanent. All I have to say is: RELAX, people, relax. No need to fear for our friend's wellbeing; he's gonna be fine. And also, he's human. Yes, people, he IS, because you can't escape the explosion of two RPGs at such a close range and swim your way out of a pool of scorching lava without actually losing something; everything has a price. But as I said before, relax. You'll find out about everything in due time.

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs

X

Tables Have Turned

'What sane person could live in this world and not be crazy?' Ursula K. LeGuin

Wesker's reaction was immediate: before the armed soldiers had a chance to start shooting, he pushed Jill into the hall they had at their left, not even caring if he fell as she did. As soon as he recovered from his fall -which was in a mere instant- Wesker stuck to the wall and kept himself lowered, keeping an intent watch on the soldiers behind them.

A bullet ricochetted off the wall right next to his ear and he would've probably lost his hearing in that ear if it had been much more sensible than it already was. Wesker was about to lean his head out when another bullet almost hit target and he retracted it so fast he was close to bumping it against the wall. He couldn't avoid swearing: knowing how the soldiers were trying to corner them and that he couldn't do much about it now got under his skin. Carrying Chris out of that place didn't help either.

As they had expected, Greene and Grant had brought more people with them, a whole team of soldiers armed with MP5s and other kind of heavy gear. With an unconscious person, a knife and a gun with its respective spare magazine, Wesker had to agree with Jill's earlier statement: they were sitting ducks, and that's what bothered him the most.

Then they heard barks, fierce and loud barks coming from behind the soldiers' ranks. Wesker, after having a short look-through, sprung to his feet and uttered an unheard curse.

"Get them!"

"Come on!" Wesker urged above the rattling of gunfire. Jill didn't hesitate a single second, ran at the same pace as him and took the lead, Wesker admitting he now had to rely on her to get out of there. They crossed a couple of doors, went through other rooms and halls, away from the danger and still knowing the soldiers were chasing them.

"What did they have there that barked so much?"

"Not a common dog, that I can assure," Wesker replied.

They were Adjules. Who the hell has Adjules trained like that? Like we expected, Gionne's behind all this: he's after Redfield. Why do I feel I agree with his request to take him away? Ah, let's not be sarcastic.

"Let's not waste any more time," he then said.

"Wait!" Jill exclaimed as they were about to move. "Chris' medical file should be around here somewhere! It could prove useful! No reports, as I said, but this is like a godsend!"

The soldiers' voices failed to give them any chances of speaking again, and Jill proceeded to do what Wesker had done before: get a chair and lock the entrance door to buy them some time. The soldiers banged against the door, trying to knock it down.

"You've seen they're on a hurry, too. Better be quick!" Wesker urged, stretching his neck with a grimace in repulsion.

Leaving everything a bit out of place, Jill rummaged through drawers, shelves and folders for a few seconds before exclaiming a low 'Eureka' and stuffing the folder inside her black jacket as well as she could.

"Commendable quickness," Wesker remarked, his words still caustic. Jill scoffed loudly and glared daggers at him.

"I thought you knew that I'm a fast worker. Let's move."

With that, they left the room at full pelt and trotted down the hall in as much silence as they could. Indeed: like Jill had said, once Wesker looked to his right he noticed they were going past the same corridor they had avoided before, currently empty of all soldiers but the ones that were posted at their earlier position.

Just when he thought there would be a breakthrough, a moment of peace and silence and no difficulties, they were face to face with a trio of BSAA agents with their guns aimed at them. They stood motionless, watching as the newcomers approached them with wariness, and Wesker felt tempted to sigh in exasperation.

Perfect, just what we needed.

What else could go down the pan?

"Robert, we need to get Chris out of here," Jill spoke, her tone hard and cold. "This is no time for detaining us." Jill adjusted Chris' weight against her body, fixating Robert with a steely stare.

"Especially when you have Albert Wesker by your side, right?" Robert shot back, sarcastic. With only a sideways glance, Wesker could tell how uncomfortable Jill felt when reminded of her current situation. When all of this was over, he'd have his chance of laughing; now, it wasn't the best moment to even smirk about it.

"Get out of my way," Jill ordered, but Robert merely smirked with scorn. "I'm not going to repeat myself. Besides, what do you know about what I'm going to do? Move it, I said!"

"As if you were someone to give me orders, you treacherous shrew." Jill took a small step forward but she halted when a bullet which Robert had fired hit the floor next to her foot. "I'm warning you: lay him down and step away."

Wesker cocked an eyebrow ever so slightly, finding a bit of amusement in that situation. He was enjoying studying Jill's reactions; knowing them would serve him in a not too distant future. Trying for the gesture to go unnoticed, Wesker leaned his head forward to gauge Jill's reaction this time, and he found her expression mirrored no other emotion than loathing: her eyes had narrowed and she had tensed.

That was a blow, wasn't it?

To his surprise, she shrugged and shook her head. "Fine, have it your way." And then, with a swift movement, Jill took up her knife and threw it in Robert's direction, hitting his chest with precision. It was like the cue Wesker needed to act: pushing Chris' arm off his shoulders, he also retrieved his gun, aimed and -to his displeasure- felt something cold grazing his cheekbone: a bullet.

It's actually fortunate that they missed. Look at them: I must be frightening them. A dead man isn't a common sight these days, is it?

There was no reason not to use their fear as an advantage -or maybe there was- and Wesker simply disposed of them with two more bullets, each one to their chest. The two remaining agents toppled down to the floor, their clothes becoming stained by the flowing blood. Wesker looked back at his companion, who had her gaze turned away from the scene.

"Unusual," he remarked, his tone light. Jill's head snapped up, fixating him with the same steely glare as before.

"What's unusual?"

"You didn't make a scene."

Jill's brow furrowed into a scowl, her eyes narrowing. "I'm not who you think I am, have that in mind. I hope you can cope with disappointment," she told him, fierce. "Are going to help me now or will I have to do this myself?"

Wesker simply shrugged, and he once again helped Jill carry Chris. A feeling of disgust flared up inside him and he had to use all of his remaining energy and will-power to restrain himself from killing his nemesis. He looked so fragile and precarious now that it was impossible to miss the opportunity, an opportunity he'd never fully had. Chris' life was in his hands: he could either leave it as it was until it strengthened again or cut the thread, Wesker had the scissors to do that.

'Kill them both, now!'

Not now, they might come in handy... both of them.

'You're making a mistake.'

Thoughts like those kept bothering him until it was pain what struck his head and blood what he felt in the back of his throat. His stomach clenched, giving him the feeling that he'd vomit sooner than later, but the retching subsided before he even had time to worry about it. Still, the throbbing pain continued and when he swallowed back the blood, he had to bear with a shiver running down his spine. Not that he wasn't used to the sight, the smell -yet fortunately not the taste- of blood, but it had been ages since Wesker had had a glimpse of his own blood, let alone had a taste of it. So many years without bleeding had made and helped him forget what it meant to be human.

"Where should we take him now?"

The question took him off guard and it took him a few seconds to register Jill's voice. They were already out of the building, which told him that the soldier's could be there in mere moments. Knowing where to go, Wesker took a right and ran up the street as fast as he could, Jill following at his same pace.

"I have a place in mind where we'll be safe for now."

Time to get answers.

xx

"Wait, what are you doing?!" Sherry exclaimed. "Are you out of your mind? Why did you bring him here?"

There was nothing like popping up in front of someone's door. It was even more enjoyable when you got to see their reaction because they didn't expect you there, and that was the exact situation Wesker was in. This time though, there was nothing to laugh at but to be annoyed at. Also, this time wasn't in front of someone's door but having brought Chris to the underground laboratory near Brooklyn Bridge, and that was a big risk. What choice did he have left, though?

Wesker rolled his eyes and sighed. "There's no time for explanations now; he needs to be examined," he replied, his tone dropping the hint Sherry caught. With a hasty nod, she guided them to the laboratory where Wesker had been held before. He kept a close eye on Sherry as they walked, taking in her every move and gesture. Chris was Claire's brother: that was the only thing Sherry needed to turn her back on him.

Of course, that wouldn't be really suitable for her.

When they reached the room, they were quick in getting everything ready. In spite of his repulsion -something Wesker had never felt as intensely as right now- towards his enemy, he kept himself going: there was always an ulterior motive behind his actions. This time, there wasn't any material end or purpose, only a purpose related to his emotions. That purpose was to see Chris suffer like never before, not only physically. Wesker wanted to see him drown in his grief when he found out what happened to him... that is, if his theories were correct.

And when it came to viruses like Uroboros, he was never wrong.

The papers and miscellaneous notes were stacked upon the table, all the machines were working, all the equipment was at hand: perfect, there was nothing out of place... for now. Before getting down to work, Wesker leaned forward on the desk and heaved out a short sigh, keeping his killer sense on a leash, trying with all his might not to listen to his inner pleadings.

"Sherry, you're staying with me but do show Miss Valentine here to a room where-"

"I'm not going anywhere," Jill interrupted, crossing her arms.

"You're in no position to make requests," Wesker shot back, taking up his gun and placing its muzzle against Chris' temple, "because I can do this and more. Don't test my patience, Miss Valentine, because I am short of it as of these instants. Sherry, do as I told you... and I insist."

He didn't give Jill any time to protest with that last bit of the sentence, and Wesker noticed how she tensed and narrowed her bright eyes at him.

"Will you give me answers later?" she asked as she walked towards the door. Wesker made no attempts to get her to leave.

"Answers for what, exactly?"

"..."

It looked like rhetoric was really getting to Jill's nerves, but never mind. They remained in silence, glaring at each other with undeniable hate, until Jill said,

"We all need to know about Chris' state, especially you if my observation skills don't fail me. Also, think of blue flowers; you'll know what I mean."

Before he could say anything else -something he hadn't the intention of doing- Sherry and Jill left the room, Sherry gently closing the door behind her. In the moments of silence that ensued, Wesker thought back a few hours ago and indeed remembered Jill's question.

Where had the flower come from? Only Wesker knew the answer to that question. Whoever was in the heavens -or most likely in the hells- would have to help him answer the question without making things worse.

With that, he turned his gaze back to the research notes upon the metal desk and heard Jill and Sherry leaving the laboratory room. Almost gingerly, Wesker removed his shades and glared at Chris' unconscious form, clenching both his fists.

You'd better stop breathing soon, you bastard, or I swear I'll make sure you do.

Sherry was with him a few minutes later and she closed the door behind her without making any noise.

"I thought you would've liked to do this on your own," she said, approaching him. Wesker replied with silence and started going over his many notes, his breathing calmed in spite of the anger that threatened to show through the slightest of gestures.

"I'd need your help if the chains broke for some reason," he told her at last. "Let's get on with this... and don't keep any sharp objects out of my reach."

"You're scaring me," Sherry replied, unmoving. Wesker couldn't avoid a smirk.

"I knew I would, but I'm dead serious. Whatever happens, don't keep them away."

xx

In an overwhelming silence, Jill was waiting inside the room Sherry had taken her to, currently sitting on a leather armchair with her elbows on her knees. Impatience and anxiety were getting the best of her and with a good reason, a very good one. She'd seen the killer gleam in Wesker's eyes and even though he was -to her surprise- willing to help her in figuring out if Chris would be alright or not, Jill doubted Wesker would hold himself back with Chris in such a state of helplessness.

Wasn't there anything she could do? Not right now of course: her earlier reaction had proven to be a mistake. For another reason, aside from Wesker's and Chris' hate toward each other, Jill knew Wesker was losing patience and his cool head. There was something that kept him tense and anxious; she had already noticed it when they had witnessed the black pustule emerging from Chris' flesh. How he'd spoken, how he'd told her Chris wasn't going to die... was it because Uroboros was surviving the adaptation process and had chosen him as a viable host? Was it because Chris was one of those 'superior humans' Wesker had always talked about?

Imagine if that happened... I wouldn't know if to rejoice or be desperate. Whilst it would affect Wesker, it would also affect me; it'd be horrible.

Jill laid back on the seat, releasing a sigh. As she stared at the ceiling, she felt the familiar sting of tears at her eyes but there were none to cry. Maybe it was because her eyes were getting dry, maybe because she indeed felt like crying, but she knew that they wouldn't leave her eyes no matter how hard she tried. If there was no feeling, there was no manifestation of it.

All of a sudden she realized how tired she was, thanks to the involuntary closing of her eyes. Jill snapped awake with a harsh movement of her head, berating herself inwardly for allowing herself to do that, but she couldn't help it. The tension of those last few hours had taken its toll on her. Forcing herself not to resist, she fell into a light yet powerful slumber.

XX

Jill had tried countless times to resist, to fight, to escape, but to no avail. It wasn't only the material restraints that were put on her but the mental ones too. She had this constant, pulsating paranoia and fear of everything going down the pan whenever she tried to make her escape, even though it was more than obvious and destined to happen like that with Wesker around keeping an intent watch on her. It was a fear that blocked all other thoughts and emotions; she could only think about escaping but, at the same time, it seemed impossible for her to do so.

"Please, just... d-don't..." she'd begged once, yet it had worsened her situation. The more she asked for everything to end, no matter aloud or inside her mind, the suffering persisted and became more unbearable. Not only because of the irony and the physical torture but also because of the grief and the guilt; many times had been the ones when those feelings had driven her close to breaking down and bursting into tears. Gamely, Jill had held them back, even though it was more than noticeable.

A scream tore through her lips as the cables of the device penetrated the blood vessels of her chest, sending more waves of pain throughout her body. Her breathing became agitated, quickened with every second that went by, and she writhed in pain as she attempted to break free from her restraints. With every movement came a scream or a grunt, all so loud Jill felt her throat going sore; with every moment, her body became someone else's property, all because of the chemical being administered. She couldn't fight against it.

A hand closed its grip around her hair, making her bite her lip and release a muffled cry of pain and despair, knowing very well who was with her. Not Excella, who had been in charge of keeping her healthy and strong, but Wesker... who had been in charge of driving her closer to the edge of sanity's cliff.

"...a while longer..." she heard him say, but just bits of the sentence. She felt him yank at her blonde tresses and she snapped her head to one side to try and get the grip to loosen. Wesker pulled even harder, so much Jill thought he'd tear off most of her hair.

A while longer? How much was 'a while', exactly? How much would she be able to take? How long until the glass shattered, scattering its pieces which would be impossible to reunite again?

How long?

XX

Jill jolted awake, shooting up from her seat and standing up, her breathing quick and nervous. Then, she closed her eyes again, running a hand through her hair and taking the other to her chest, where the device had been. Nothing had happened, it had only been a dream.

Another of those dreams which are a pain in the ass... My God, they won't leave me alone...

She took a quick look around the room. Nothing had changed, it didn't even seem anybody had been there; she didn't hear anything, all seemed to be calm and in place. Out of instinct, Jill stretched and rubbed her neck, wincing at an unwelcome stiffness and suppressing a yawn. She considered going to the lab and checking up on Chris, but who knew what would happen if she didn't comply to Wesker's request of being alone? It wasn't worth risking it: he was the one with the upper hand now.

It was then when she noticed a small note lying upside-down at her feet. Curious, she picked it up, only to find four words written down in a neat, italics handwriting. Jill frowned at the message, as it read

The language of flowers.

so what could it be referring to? The language of flowers... What did it point to?

Just after the thought had crossed her mind, Jill heard a distant scream in what she thought that was terror and without thinking it twice, she stormed out of the room and headed towards the lab. She thought of entering but then decided against it and remained beside the door in silence. Jill had a look inside through the small round window, and what she found inside was the most shocking of surprising as of yet.

Sherry had her back turned to the door and was standing in front of Wesker, whose face Jill compared to the mirror of his soul. His hands shot up to clasp his own hair, his blue eyes widening as he stared up front.

"This shouldn't be happening..." Jill heard him say and her gut clenched in dread.

No... please no...

What Jill considered the most frightening thing of all was the gleam in Wesker's gaze, the gleam of the emotion she had thought non-existent for him, the emotion which had been a so unknown concept for Wesker and she knew he'd forbidden himself to feel.

That emotion was fear.

xx

A few hours crawled by since Jill's visit to the laboratory. After witnessing Wesker's short fit of rage, she knew better than to remain there and ask what had happened. She knew it well: something terrible had transpired. Wesker had made a discovery that had even left him shocked to the point of becoming enraged so Jill had no doubt that once she heard about it, she wouldn't be able to cope with it.

After those hours went by and Jill had become used to the room she'd been lent, she heard two soft knocks on her door. Before replying, Jill did her best to keep her demeanour that of a calm person, but oh how very difficult it was with the continuous trembling of her hands.

"Yes?"

When her reply cut through the silence, the door was pushed open and inside stepped Wesker and Sherry, and Jill's gut clenched again, this time with much more strength. Upon examining Wesker's features, Jill didn't know if to think he was distressed, he was faking it, if he was both or none. When he spoke, a gasp escaped Jill's lips.

"There hasn't been a rejection."

A/N: No rejection? Then that's not good, is it now? Yes, the whole plot has been set on the table: now you're in for the development. I promise it'll be a sweet ride, because I wouldn't have 109 pages of this story if there wasn't any development throughout this story, eh? Alright, keep a close eye on Tuesday's update: it'll turn the spotlight on Jill and Wesker.

Reviews are appreciated!^^