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Optio	By : Ripsi Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 8319 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Resident Evil fandom/franchise or any of their characters. I make no money from this fanfiction. It is merely a piece of fiction written by me.

Chapter List
- 1-Annus Novus
- 2-Domus
- 3-Calor
- 4-Posco
- 5-Ludus
- 6-Felix Dies Valentini
- 7-Desiderium
- 8-Dormientes
- 9-Curre
- 10-Gravatus
- 11-Vita
- 12-Vigilo
- 13-Arcanum
- 14-Phasma Phasmatis
- 15-Possessio
- 16-Mutatio
- 17-Anniversarium
- 18-Monstrum
- 19-Lues
- 20-Vita Post Mortem
- 21-Iterum
- 22-Eam
- 23-Fidelitas
- 24-Veritas
- 25-Pacisco
- 26-Mundus Novus
- 27-Febris
- 28-Chemia
- 29-In Aeternum
- 30-Frater
- 31-Historia
- 32-Familia
- 16
- 17
- 18
Optio
Chapter 17: Anniversarium
December 30, 2001 Sunday 8:25 PM
Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Sao Paulo, Brazil
Status: Glad to be on the ground
I think we’d been in four planes, the number of cars? I wasn’t so sure. The whole time I had one bag since Wesker said all of our things would arrive at the hotel, and now I was shedding the one coat that I had yet to give to a homeless person wandering around the airports we’d visited. Seriously what were we gonna do with all of those coats as we got farther down south? Now Wesker was helping me out of the cab, not because I needed his help but because he was actually just a gentleman… at least with me.
I had the nerve to complain about being on my ass for so long until I noticed I was standing between two lit fountains with unbelievably blue water spouting into the air. A few families walked past me, apparently accustomed to such hotels, but I lingered there to take in the sight of what appeared to be a mini-jungle lining the walls of the orange building. A few brightly colored birds were dipping in and out of view, perching on a branch every now and then only to look around and take flight again. I secured my bag on my shoulder, staring into the glass, sliding doors leading inside, and it looked like the road to El Dorado from where I was standing. I heard Wesker speaking to the driver in Portuguese, and since that failed to tear my attention away from the sight inside I felt myself being led forward by my disobeying feet.
This wasn’t just a hotel; it was a paradise, built right next to the ocean for the wealthy, vacationing families to have it all in one visit. Once inside I saw through the illusion, yet my eyes still perceived it as golden. Tall, white pillars ran up the sides of the walls, pretending to support the building, but I wouldn’t deny the royal touch they added. Much of the middle of the lobby was taken up by a pond filled with fish all colors imaginable, hiding beneath lily pads while the larger ones lazily floated by. A large group of plants rested in the center of the pond, its leaves hanging out over it and providing shade.
Far up above me there was a window that went up into an arch, but all of the light of the city only allowed the view of a few stars.
“Illyria?” For a moment I had forgotten my alias, but then I quickly remembered and turned around, seeing Wesker’s black jeans. I had been so swept up in the pond that I didn’t realize I was kneeling down. With a smile I got to my feet and followed him to the front desk, letting my eyes take in the sight of the happy people coming to and fro while Wesker once more showed off his multi-lingual skills.
“Obrigado. Let’s go Illyria.” I figured he’d told the man at the front desk, “thank you,” –I wouldn’t know for I spoke not a syllable of Portuguese unless it was a shared, Spanish word- and he placed a hand on the small of my back, ushering towards the golden, elevator doors to the right. Inside the car I didn’t hear your typical, elevator music; it had a Latin style to it, although I wasn’t sure if it was considered Latin. Deciding to keep away from anything that may sound politically incorrect, I turned to look at my companion as he punched in the button with “32” on it.
That was a long way up. As the elevator rose I stared around the space that was quite large for elevator standards, and I finally realized that I had no idea of the name of this place. “Wesker? What’s the hotel name?”
I heard a ding and he replied, “Kallista.” As we made our way down the hallway I noticed that there weren’t many doors, leading me to the conclusion that we were on our way to a suite that only Oprah could probably afford. We finally reached a door at the end of the hallway, and he used a keycard to open it. The light flashed green on the panel, and the lock clicked.
When he opened the door he held it so that I could enter first, proving that chivalry was still alive and well in Albert Wesker’s world, but for a moment my previously eager feet refused to move. This man never ceased to amaze me with living quarters, and for some reason I believed that all of this wasn’t for him, but for me. It was simple, yet gorgeous at the same time with black and white furniture in the main room. I stepped down onto a dark, wooden floor, mouth agape at how neat it was, and how much room we had.
The front room had a fifty inch plasma screen mounted on the wall, and one black, love seat in front of it. The white, marble coffee table looked more like art than a piece of furniture, possessing one curvy leg to hold it upright, and this entire room was sealed off from the other half of the suite. Without his permission I walked towards to black framed, French doors which were between a few sets of paneled windows of the same color, and beyond that to my right was a dining area with a table long enough for eight people. To the right of that was a bar, which unbelievably, I wasn’t interested in, so I looked to the left at the bedroom.
I fought to urge to jump into the canopied, king-sized bed and instead looked in at the bathroom that was large enough for both a Jacuzzi bathtub that was set into the ground and shower that would fit probably six people. The floor and vanity were a swirl of white and tan marble making me smile at how warm it looked in contrast to the rest of the place, but it was all still beautiful nonetheless.
“Dear heart?” At Wesker’s voice I turned to witness him opening another set of French doors to the right of the bed and I hurried over to him, only to once more feel my jaw drop.
“Are you fucking serious?” I whispered to myself.
“Language,” he teased, smirking at my reaction. In the dark I could make out a few parasols over some beach chairs, but what really caught my eyes was the pool to the left, lighting up different colors every once in a while. If I looked over the balcony and saw what I think I’d see, I was certain I’d piss myself. When the blond saw that I wasn’t going anywhere, he once more led me by placing his hand at the small of my back, still able to wring a shiver of delight out of me. Please don’t pee, I thought over and over, feeling an uncontrollable surge of giddiness rise inside my chest as I looked over the city below, but more importantly I had the view of the ocean.
For a moment I was hesitant to sound so vain, but I needed to know. “Is this all for me?”
Instead of answering me he slid the bag that I forgot I was holding off of my shoulder and leaned down to kiss me for the first time in what felt like forever. Forgetting his reasons for depriving me of affection, I completely surrendered as he grabbed my ass to lift me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, hooking them at my ankles. He sat me on the balcony yet I trusted him. Yes I trusted Albert Wesker with my life at this moment, not even fearing the thirty-two story fall that sat almost directly below me.
He pulled away, breathing as hard and shallow as I was and his mouth was pink from our much-needed, little make-out session. “You trust me Redfield?”
Right then and there I could swear he was reading my mind, although as I teetered on the brink of long drop I guess it was the appropriate thing to wonder. I didn’t fail to notice the significance in him calling me by my last name either. I, a Redfield allowed him to hold me so close to my death, without fear, without protest. “With my life Wesker.” Quickly, he took me back inside, showing me just how fast he could be, and as he pulled back the canopy to lay me down I began to understand the hidden question within a question.
What he wanted to know was if I trusted him to not get me pregnant, to trust his estimation of time between my ovulations. I had not felt any different, the temperature change and need for sex that usually came with them, and so it must have meant that I would either experience them semi-annually or quarterly. But who cared about number crunching for the future when in the now I had one of the most dangerous, yet handsome men in the world nipping at the inside of my neck?
Our love-making (yes I called it that) was different tonight, yet it was almost like our first time but more passion was put into it. More thought. Inside the white veil of the canopy I felt secure, sexy almost when I imagined the image of our silhouettes as I rode him painfully slowly, my arms crossed over my head as he guided my hips. With my eyes closed it felt like I was in a state of ecstasy, and I ran my hands down my body until they met his.
Could it be that I was really here? Had I truly gone from being Claire Redfield: enemy of all things Umbrella? Did I really get to Sara Ivanov: unsure, only to evolve into Illyria Wishkar: Albert Wesker’s woman? As he took full control over my hips, burying himself as deeply as possible I cried out, the signal that told me the answer was yes.
You can never be Claire Redfield again.
I wasn’t a traitor, I wasn’t a liar, because I wasn’t her. I was someone my brother didn’t teach me to be, I was a dark-haired vixen now, straddling the world’s most wanted man. I was the kept woman of a criminal who I cared more about what he thought of me more than his deadly endeavors. The worst and most important thing I was? I liked it.
Fuck that, I loved it.
When a man so powerful, without any remorse for his actions offered you the world by the balls you were basically offered his power since your gifts were obtained with it. Would I stand by while he hurt people I loved? No. Would I still be drawn to him despite everything? Damn right.
Was it his power then that made him so alluring, his ability to get what he wished when he wished? Was I that sort of woman?
Every woman is that sort of woman.
He sat up, we were chest to chest, and I threw my head back to allow him to place heated kisses over my throat. But I wanted to look him in the eye to let him know I wasn’t denying him, I don’t think I could if Chris asked me to my face.
What was this? Could this have been love? Could he even actually love me? It wasn’t fucking, it wasn’t fondness anymore, so what was this and how was it so powerful? Maybe I’d find out soon enough.
December 31, 2001 Sunday 9:13 AM
Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Sao Paulo, Brazil
Status: In ecstasy
Warmth touched half of my back, and knowing that it was the Sao Paulo sun I grinned for the first time of the day. The veil had been pulled back and I managed to see that the doors to the balcony were open and naked as the day I was born I stepped out of the bed to let the rays of the sun warm the rest of my body. Out of habit I went to the bathroom where my toiletries were set out on the vanity, and I took in the sight of Miss Wishkar in the mirror. Purple bruises hugged me at the waist where Wesker had been holding me the night before, and I shrugged at them not being healed.
Busted blood vessels, the blood would have to clear out on its own. I didn’t mind them though; they were a reminder of the night before. I tousled my newly, black hair and decided to draw a bath for myself, not at all being conservative with the bubbles. Once inside I was sure the only way I could be found was by my hair, but it didn’t matter; it was about me right now since Wesker was probably off doing whatever he was doing.
Oh yes I was different, but I was still a Redfield at heart damn it and I’d figure it out, but Illyria wanted to intensify the feeling from last night with something to wind her muscles down.
For the rest of the morning I ignored the feeling of guilt I felt towards enjoying myself. I decided to do some yoga out by the pool and then I took up a beach chair and attempted to tan. I had been enjoying an afternoon nap on my stomach when I heard the hotel room door open, and with much force exerted, I got up to go greet Wesker. Also I wanted to show off my bright, blue bikini, and since my hormones were raging deep down inside I wanted for him to lose control.
“You’re back,” I said in a small voice, and I felt a blush make its way over my cheeks as he walked over to the bed, but when he pulled out a laptop I had to stop myself from frowning.
“Not for long,” he confessed, and in true, Albert Wesker fashion he managed to keep anything close to regret from being heard in his voice. I took a seat behind his laptop and let my shoulders slump and gave a pout, but then again I knew that this was no vacation for him before we left. “Since you have little to do, and I suggest that you do not take part in the New Year’s festivities for obvious reasons, I am leaving you with this.”
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes I looked down to the black computer, and then back to him. “This is a better form of entertainment than the TV?”
His tone changed quickly, showing that he was in a hurry and he said, “Browse the internet, play Solitaire, something Claire.” Then he leaned down to me, his voice dangerously low as he added, “Anything to keep you in this building.” Swallowing hard, I realized that he was up to something dangerous, something that would possibly bring attention to his presence in South America.
“Okay,” I whispered.
Still leaning down he raised a blonde eyebrow. “And Claire?” To show that I was listening I looked up into his shades, seeing the very rings of fire he attempted to hide with them. “Do not attempt to contact your friends.” After I gave a small nod he stood up to leave once more, throwing over his shoulder, “If you do we will be found.”
Even after I was sure he was on the elevator by now I stared at the doors leading to the living area, then I let my eyes roam to the laptop again. For a while I just glared at it, knowing that it had secrets locked away inside, and it was right there in front of me. I still wanted to know what he was up to; it wasn’t like I’d sell out his information to anyone. No I was just curious. Looking around the room I felt silly, like there’d be secret cameras set up or something.
Sounds like Wesker.
Turning the device around, I gently opened it, and pressed the button just under the screen. Breathing deeply, I brought my middle finger to the touchpad and brought the cursor to the icon with “A. Wesker” underneath it. Still, I had no idea what his password could even be, but maybe I did have an idea and didn’t know it… If that made any sense at all.
Vane as it seemed I typed in my name, even inserting my middle name when just my first and last didn’t do the trick. I tried “Tyrant,” hell I even tried “STARS,” and just when I thought I had exhausted all of my ideas I tried A-K-E-E-S-O.
Invalid. Maybe I was spelling it wrong, hell I knew nothing about the origin of my virus’ name which meant that it was pretty much Greek to me. Well there was an idea. I went in under “Guest” and got online, typing in “Akeeso, Greek” in the search bar. “Did you mean ‘Aceso, Greek?’” Yes I did, I answered to myself.
While I was there I decided to check out the significance behind the name. Aceso was the Greek goddess of the process of healing. So he’d actually put some thought into naming it… And it wasn’t something dumb like “Tyrant.” I was getting sidetracked
With the correct spelling in my head I tried “Aceso,” and once more I was told that the password was invalid. Stupid Wesker and his stupid secure account. It was probably a random assortment of characters that looked like a serial number. Something like: IZ07456345. Still, it didn’t matter to me what he said about contacting friends, it’s not like they’d be able to locate me. So no longer fearing that he had some super human way to sense what I was up to, I went back into the guest account and attempted to sign into my email.
“Son of a bitch,” I hissed at the message that popped up on the screen. I was blocked from all email services, and I doubted any proxy would do the trick if he thought this far ahead. Enraged, I shut off the laptop and slammed it closed, pushing it away from me while I folded my arms and huffed. The only way I could reach out to anyone would be if I could use someone else’s computer. I just wanted for Chris to know that I was alive, and that I was sort of still me.
Even if it was the last time I ever said a word to him again, he just needed to know that I was okay, and that he didn’t need to worry.
With a stronger sense of determination I hopped up from the bed, reminding myself that we were on the top floor in a suite. There was at least one other room up here, and if they could afford it then they definitely had to have a laptop. I quickly slipped on a shirt and shorts, grabbing my room key at the last second just before I exited the room. Since the hallway didn’t consist of twists and turns galore I easily found the door to the other suite down the hall on the other side of the elevator. I swallowed hard, and knocked on the door with what I liked to think of as an, “appropriate knock.”
From outside I heard the sound of heavy footsteps and an eager looking man with an over-baked tan and a 70s porn star mustache that I swore was penciled on flung the door open.
At my startled gaze he quickly said, “So sorry miss I was expecting room service!” At least he spoke English, though with an unmistakable Australian accent, but for some reason I got the vibe that he was working on Americanizing himself.
“Is that room service?” Behind him a petite blonde popped up, but she didn’t seem disappointed by my presence in the least bit, instead she greeted me with the same accent that her partner possessed. “Hi, you must be the mysterious suite neighbor!”
Don’t you always meet the friendliest people?
Not knowing what else to do I gave a single laugh. “I’m sorry to bother you but I was wondering if maybe you guys had a laptop I could use? My ‘significant other’ took his out with him.” It felt odd calling him that but what else would he have been, especially since he didn’t give me a quick briefing of my “character.” It was mostly up to me in this situation, and I would have been able to call him my fiancé at least if I hadn’t left behind the ring he gave me.
“Of course!” the man almost shouted, shaking me from my thoughts, and he ushered me into the suite that was identical to our own. “I’m Ronnie,” he informed me as he shut the door, and this is my girlfriend Sharon.”
Awkwardly, I shook both their hands and gave my alias with a bit too much confidence. “I’m Illyria Wishkar.”
“Ooh,” they said in unison, looking to each other. Oh God I prayed they didn’t ask any questions I wasn’t prepared to answer. It was obvious I was American so maybe they’d refrain from asking about my origins, especially since asking where my parents were from would be pretty personal for this first meeting.
“Well, the laptop’s over here on the coffee table,” Ronnie said, and I waited for him to walk me to it seeing as it would be rude to just make myself at home when I knew I certainly wouldn’t be returning. I waited as he started it up for me and Sharon announced that she was going to take a shower, politely telling me how nice it was to meet me. It seemed that they were interested in privacy as much as I was myself. “I don’t mean to be inhospitable but we have a party to attend so I need to get ready. If your need anything just shout.”
“It’s all right. And thanks.” When he left I had to admit that I was happy, the fake smile was beginning to hurt my cheeks. To finish this as quickly as possible I decided to send a message that got the point across. “Chris, I’m okay. I love you big brother.” I was ready to hit the send button when a thought crossed my mind that should have hit me before. The ring that I had forgotten about for so long, it was in my jewelry box at home.
At home, along with the five hundred dollar dresses and jeans. With the all of your fancy trinkets from Wesker.
I pulled my hands back from the keyboard as if I had been burned, feeling a knot form in my chest once it hit me that my brother had all the evidence he needed to consider me an enemy. If he could indeed track me down from this email then he would, and not only would he come, he would forever disown me as his sister. Maybe I didn’t want to see it before but now it hit me square in the face that Chris may have been my blood, but if he had finally accepted the things that I could have possibly done then I was no longer his sibling. Chris, I said to myself, feeling the hurt already just at imagining him finding me, knowing everything that I had hoped would be kept from him.
As much as my body fought me, I touched my index finger to the delete button, watching my note disappear letter by letter. What if he had really needed that reassurance though? Pushing that thought to the very back of my mind I logged out of my account with the resolve to not cry around these strangers. There was no way that I could confide in them without Wesker looking like an enemy, or without looking suspicious myself. They’d just be wasting their breath anyhow since their advice wouldn’t help me at all when my complaint would consist of distorted facts.
As my account logged out I was returned to the home screen of the website where a notice caught my eye. “Strange Attacks Reported in Amparo.” This site was set to report the news of the surrounding area so that meant that Amparo was near, and usually when Wesker was in an area where strange attacks occurred… I clicked on the link, trying to force myself not to remember the deaths that he had been responsible for.
“Amparo has been the latest village to report an unusual rash of attacks and illnesses, the first being the Amazonian village of Mixcoatl where a mysterious string of disappearances has been plaguing the town. It has been released that the incidences are most likely related due to the sudden occurrence of aforementioned happenings after the arrival of a villager from Mixcoatl, stating that “demons” were beginning to take over the neighboring village. Because of drug Lord, Javier Hidalgo’s strict control over the area it has proved futile to attempt to reach the village for investigation. ”
“What the hell?” I muttered, attempting to search for any other mentions of these events, but there was nothing else in English. Something was going on in South America all right, and though in the beginning I attempted to convince myself that Wesker’s intentions were harmless, I knew now that there was a possibility that I was dead wrong. “Javier Hidalgo.” Man of power in an undeveloped village? It was a start.
December 31, 2001 Sunday 11:30 PM
Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Sao Paulo, Brazil
Status: Wary
For the rest of the day I had been worrying myself silly over my recent discovery, but to push it aside at least for a while I had ordered a shit load of room service. Though I didn’t need the food, I did need something to do other than make myself sick to my stomach with the thought that Wesker could be up to no good under my very nose. At eleven I decided to slip into bed, hoping that somehow I could get to sleep. I had been half asleep when I heard the bedroom door open, but I chose to feign sleep even when he went outside to take a call.
The moonlight cast shadows on the wall in front of me and I reminded myself to take long, deep breaths to make my act believable.
“Yes? I am in Sao Paulo. Have you heard from Hidalgo?” At the confirmation that he was involved, I squeezed my eyes together even tighter, gripping the sheets beneath me. “No, no. Take no action. I would like to see how this plays out. Keep me updated.”
The doors shut and he returned to the front room, turning on the television to what I assumed was a news station. Panicked voices floated from the room as I lie awake with wide eyes, and the calm voice of a news anchor brought an end to the rapidly spoken Portuguese. Once more on New Year’s Eve I made a deal with the devil, thinking that things would turn out well, and I was proven wrong once more.
Happy anniversary, Claire.
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