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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
- 26
- 27
- 28
Optio
Chapter 27: Febris
March 23, 2002 Sunday 8:57 AM
Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Sylt, Germany
Status: Unsure
It felt odd that he was still in bed with me at this hour, especially since there was so much to be done concerning Dr. Seaborne and his research, but I think Al just stayed with me because he thought that I was afraid. He had no fucking clue. His presence did less to reassure than it did make me want to run for the hills, but since he was the only person I had I would accept his company. I mean, I had Jack but I think after the other day he had enough of me for a good three or four days. I’m sure he’d still be up to playing a game of cards or something in his spare time, unless today they would also be running tests to figure out why he looked like he was about to go Super Saiyan at the club. Not like they’d share their findings with me of course, not when I had so much on my plate already. I didn’t really want to think about it though, and so I rubbed my thumb in a circle on Al’s bare chest. Snuggling in closer to him, I felt him adjust himself to wrap an arm around me, but he only stared up at the ceiling, somehow ignoring my gaze. He was here, so it was the perfect time to even attempt to have this discussion right?
I didn’t even know how to start this conversation though…
“How are you feeling?” he asked as he finally turned his neck to look at me.
“I think forcing myself into a good sleep schedule took a lot out of me, but I think in a couple more days I’ll be fine.” My mind still worked on how to ease into the conversation, but my mouth couldn’t continue to make small talk just even though I ran the risk of running him off. “How are you? I mean are you guys doing any work today?” Subtle.
Al had to have known that I was interested in what was going on, but either he didn’t want to burden me with the stress or he just thought it would be a good idea to keep me separated from the actual project. “Seaborne has his samples. I will more than likely need to travel to Berlin to oversee the research.”
My brow furrowed. “What samples?”
As though I should’ve known, he replied, “Sperm and egg samples.”
My face scrunched up in genuine confusion as I tried to remember any other time where I could’ve given him samples from me. I only saw him for a physical exam and when I passed out the last time I menstruated. “I don’t remember him harvesting…” I answered my own question, and I gave a scoff. A part of me believed that I should have felt violated by him for stealing eggs from me, but then I remembered that only Al would have had interest in my uterus at that point. I didn’t dwell on that revelation and instead let my mind wander to the possible results of this “project.” If an actual baby came out of this then could we really just pull the plug and call it a day? What if I wanted it? What if it was like a 1 out of 3,000 chance and we were lucky enough for it to happen now? Could he soften to the possibility of us having a baby?
Or was there still a danger lurking that would capitalize on a moment of weakness? If Al was still running from someone or something then they would most certainly find out that I was carrying around a baby, and they would put two and two together…
Slow down Claire, there isn’t even a baby.
But was I so wrong to think about the future? Was I so wrong to paint the scenario in my mind? It wasn’t unnatural for a woman to catch a bout of baby fever and run with it. In Red Lodge I was sure that I would never have a child, and now we were making sure if I could or could not. Maybe he was feeling it too; he could simply put me on birth control if he was so worried about us getting pregnant, but now he was running an undoubtedly expensive experiment to check if we could produce something normal. At that thought a tear almost welled up in one of my eyes, and I smiled to myself.
“What were your parents like?” The question surprised me even, but I knew I needed to get away from the subject of children because I was my own worst conversation buddy.
As he stared back at the ceiling I knew I had touched on an issue that was sensitive to him and Albert Wesker doesn’t do sensitive. “They were parents.” The simple statement made me realize that perhaps I should have instead inquired about his desire to have children. However, I needed to know more about the man I shared a bed with anyhow.
“Were they good parents?”
“They provided me with the necessities.”
“Like food, clothes, shelter?” I prodded. “Love?”
“The definition of necessities varies amongst individuals.”
Now I felt bed for even asking. Cliché as it sounded, his childhood sounded like it was far from perfect. Searching for a silver lining, I permitted my mouth to speak once more. “Well, they created a brilliant scientist. I guess things could have been worse.” I left it as a statement, lest he be forced into asking his own questions that would further push his mood to the very end of the spectrum. For some reason though, I couldn’t help but ask more about his family, maybe it was because he didn’t choose to divulge more. “Are they still alive?”
Gaze fixed on the ceiling, he answered robotically, “I’ve never looked.”
“So you went to college and never looked back? Just eighteen and free?” There was no point in raising my brow; he was so focused on not looking at me that he probably saw nothing in his peripheral.
“I received my MD at eighteen.”
“You’re making this conversation really hard to have.” I broke; I couldn’t take the one-liners anymore. It was killing me that I didn’t know more about him while I was possibly wishing to have his babies.
As he shut his eyes he gave a small smirk and pulled me closer. “What conversation is that Claire?”
I almost slapped him on the chest, not that he’d feel too much, but it was amazing how men could get away with dodging questions. If the woman attempts to escape an interrogation though all hell breaks loose. So I stuck to my guns instead of backing away from the subject. “The one about how you grew up. I want to know.”
His chest heaved as he inhaled deeply, and he left his eyes closed as he began. “My parents were from New York, born and raised. They were a wealthy family that believed in the power of knowledge. My studies were intense, but not difficult to pick up on, and I felt it was only natural to enter college. I would gain nothing from spending my young years acting as the child my mind refused to allow me to be.”
“So was your dad like a big rocket engineer?” I turned onto my stomach and propped myself up on my elbows as a show of my interest, something that made him open his eyes.
“No,” he breathed. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, giving me the feeling that my interest had not sparked his own.
“A doctor?”
In the same bewildered tone he replied, “No.”
“Did he do anything? Did your mom do anything?”
Instead of a reply, I received absolute silence from him, an occurrence that frightened me beyond reason. He was usually a man of few words as made evident by his short answers, but the guy could monologue about himself for days.
With a nervous laugh I said, “Your genius had to come from somewhere Al.”
His eyes showed that he was in deep thought as they moved from left to right, searching his mind for memories for the first time in what was probably decades.
“Could you at least tell me where your looks came from?”
An answer was expected, however, he seemed more confused than he ever had during the conversation.
“Al,” I began, “You can’t tell me you look nothing like your parents. I mean even if neither of them were blonde and blue-eyed you would know which grandparent gave it to you.”
He appeared to be in a daze, like my words brought on things he never considered before, and maybe he hadn’t if he left his parents so quickly. “I had no grandparents.”
From this, I could only suggest that they were all dead, his parents were probably too busy for him and never bothered to tell him what they did to make their money. More than likely he never thought about them, he’d lived without them since he was eighteen, unless he was a kid in a dorm room. Perhaps the neglect that he felt was carried over, so now he would not tend to his memories of his family, and eventually they would be forgotten. My parents died when I was young but I would never forget that I looked like my dad and that my blue eyes were a gift from my Nana. I would never forget that my father was in the Air force which inspired Chris to chase the same dream, and I would never forget that I had my mother’s nose. I would never forget where all these pieces came from that made me into Claire Redfield as a whole. But I was no genius, and in Al’s mind who knows? More than likely he didn’t deem this information important enough to remember.
The damage I had done became hard for me to even look at anymore, and I tucked my hair behind my ear as I pushed my body up to give him a peck on the lips. He was receptive to my kiss, pulling my body farther up so that we were chest to chest. If I’d known this was all it took to have this morning go smoothly, I would have just gone the route of physical intimacy earlier. I threw my head to the side to at least keep from tickling one side of his face with my hair, and to allow myself to be able to see him. Instead of letting me enjoy the view though, he began kissing me again, his hand wandering to my thigh to pull it up, further widening my legs. His grip was tightening as he crushed my chest to his, but it only made me want the inevitable more. There was only so close that he could pull us together, and it still would not compare to the feeling of him entering me. I knew it was only a matter of time before he couldn’t stop himself from tugging at my panties, but damn it was taking too long today.
Gently, I began grinding my hips against his, trying to feel for a bulge, and in response he grabbed my ass to encourage me. We were too old for this dry humping business, but whatever it took to make him forget how I spoiled his morning was permitted. It was just surprising to me that he didn’t want to at least get naked yet. I wouldn’t rush him if he wanted to take his time, but I also wouldn’t let him take all morning. Somehow I managed to pull away from him to sit up and remove my night shirt, anticipating the feel of his hands on my breasts. Ever full of surprises, they instead moved to my hips, the grip strong as he guided me to continue grinding. Pure torture was how I would describe the moment; he was ready, so was I, but he wouldn’t give in to me. Before I knew what I was doing I had reached into his boxers and exposed his erection.
Right now I would have done anything to just have him inside of me, a desire that he seemed unwilling to fulfill at the moment. As I tried to pull my underwear to the side I felt him lean over, and he let me down next to him. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, another action that confused me, but I wondered if I was just being paranoid.
However as his body tensed it told me that I was not wrong in my assumption that he wouldn’t give me what I wanted. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” My attempt to not sound pleading was mildly successful, something I felt quite proud of. What woman wanted to sound like an animal in heat? At that thought I scoffed, smiling in disbelief that he was so ready to think that I was ovulating just because I wanted to have sex. I wanted sex other times and he never came to the conclusion that it was because of some weird clock in my body that told me to get knocked up. “I’m not ovulating Al!” I yelled, throwing myself on my back in annoyance. “My body temperature feels the same, I don’t feel like I smell any different, and I haven’t gained a single pound. And wouldn’t I have ovulated last month for a quarterly cycle or some shit?”
The mattress shifted as he got to his feet, and my head snapped in his direction. He turned to start walking toward the bathroom. “I never said it would work that way. It could happen every four months. Every six months.” Then he stopped and turned back. “Or… it could occur every month after your reproductive organs have adjusted to your current state.”
“So we’re just gonna pretend that condoms don’t exist? Birth control?” To be taken more seriously in this argument, I pushed myself up into a sitting position.
“Testing birth control is a lengthy process. When you were with child a pregnancy test did not even reveal it to you. Your body has changed, it is still changing, and the chemicals you run on differ greatly from the average human. Birth control could pose a threat to your well being.”
With an intentionally smartass tone I asked, “Like what?”
His eyes had widened slightly and he lowered his head. “Are you willing to find out?”
Without a verbal concession, I threw in the towel on that debate. There was probably a chance my eggs would be permanently scrambled if I chose to take a birth control for the average woman. “Well what about condoms?”
“If you find some with the adequate durability please inform me.”
As he turned on his heel my mouth fell open at his insinuation. He knew damned well I couldn’t argue with him there without hurling a false insult. At a loss for words I yelled to him, “This isn’t fair!” At the sound of the shower starting I threw myself back into the mattress, huffing dramatically. I could always sneak into the shower but I didn’t need to push my luck in case he became so dedicated to the cause that he bought a chastity belt. “He’d totally do it,” I muttered to myself. This was going to be a long few days.
March 23, 2002 Sunday 11:18 AM
Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Sylt, Germany
Status: Bored
“Hey Jack.” The kitchen seemed to be the blonde’s favorite hangout, something which came as no surprise since he was the size of a school bus. Sadly, it seemed my abrupt decision to plop down in the chair next to him was disrupting his original delight in his sandwich. If he took such issue with events that happened days ago I could only imagine what stewing any longer would do to him. Since I was without company for the time being I knew that I had no choice but to swallow my pride and apologize to him. “Jack I’m sorry for how things went down in Berlin.”
As he took a sip of what I assumed was a tall glass of Kool-Aid, I swear he almost rolled his eyes. Dramatically, he set the cup down and cleared his throat. Damn did he have to be such a diva about it? “I guess I can accept your apology.”
“Good!” My enthusiasm wasn’t really faked; it just seemed like a better idea in comparison to throwing sarcasm back at his attitude. “So, how’s your arm?”
“It’s not a problem I can’t handle.”
“Did they find out exactly what was wrong?”
“Nothing.” He swallowed the last of his drink and got to his feet. I heard him wash the dishes as quickly as his could, -more than likely only because I was sitting there- and he stared at me for a moment. “Is that experiment thing going on?”
“I guess.” My tone showed that I was just as clueless as he was even though some part of me was hugely involved.
“They didn’t shoot you up with some hormones or something?”
The sound of confusion was audible in my voice as I attempted to both answer his question and question it in my head. “No.”
With a shrug, he crossed his arms. “You just… Something’s different.”
Before I ended up spilling my guts to him about how Al refused to screw me based on his own belief that something was “different,” I stood up from the table, ready to leave, however, if I did so on that note he would probably get revenge on me by following me around asking questions. “Everything’s… normal. Everything’s fine.” With my arms crossed, I stared down at the floor, not a move that would help my case.
“I don’t think everything’s fine.” His counter seemed to bring him some form of satisfaction. He was definitely the kind of douche that loved to get under your skin even when he had no clue what the hell he was talking about.
“Well,” I began with my arms outstretched, “you weren’t hired… to do that!” If it came off as an insult I hoped he wouldn’t take it too harshly. How else could I get him to stop speaking the truth that I didn’t want to hear? I didn’t want to think about this right now when an experiment involving the viability of a baby was happening. At first I did, but after this morning I felt I had only dug a hole for myself. The thought of me pushing away Al just because my body was ironically enough acting as a magnet to him hurt me. It made me want him more just because at the time my presence was driving him insane on the inside. In my head I knew what I planned to do wasn’t the best idea, but I would show him that this wasn’t going to be an issue between us.
“Well all right crazy lady.” As Jack brushed past me I could’ve sworn that my stomach turned a little, although I wasn’t too sure why. He hadn’t really pissed me off, just gotten on my nerves, and it definitely wasn’t any help that he dismissed me and got in the last word. He could have that moment though; it was best that my mouth be kept shut.
March 23, 2002 Sunday 9:57 PM
Subject: Wesker, Albert
Location: Berlin, Germany
Status: Fine
Today’s events had been stressful to say the least, although it was nothing that I could not handle. My morning started with Claire asking questions that for some reason I could not answer myself. Nothing prompted me to question my youth before, however, her constant inquiries seemed to bother me. This was not the time for these thoughts, but her plan to take the conversation as far away from our own issue as possible caused me to question my own life. The experiment was far more important at the moment, and Seaborne’s enthusiasm more than proved that.
“I would like to congratulate you Dr. Wesker,” he turned in his chair to look at me, eyes wide with excitement, not for Claire and myself, but for the possibility of this leading to his own desires. “You are potentially a father.”
Silence was my response to his statement, although I felt no regret I did feel something akin to resentment that was aimed at his will to take part in this. Perhaps it would have been best to never find out, but Claire needed to know as a woman. As partners, we needed to know. She had to have known that there were few things I would not do for her, yet more than likely she assumed that giving her a child would be one of them. Given our current situation we did not need a child but who was I to deny her the hope of someday “fulfilling” her life?
Despite not replying, Seaborne continued to inform me of his findings, his face now lacking that same joy he showed before. “I think we both know that this gestation cannot possibly mimic one that Claire would endure; her metabolism, according to you, shoots beyond that of a normal human’s when she is wounded. A pregnancy would be seen by her body as something that is hindering her, and to support the life her metabolic system would act the way a human woman’s attempts to react.”
“The nuclear meltdown…” I began, trailing off to imagine how far Claire would be pushed and her ability to excel where a human would fail.
“That occurs in the middle of the pregnancy,” the scientist continued for me. “Here we can simulate the womb of a human woman, even one with an extremely high metabolic rate, but we cannot assume to know how Claire would react.”
My head snapped in his direction before he took the conversation any further, “Dr. Seaborne this is an experiment to test the viability of a fetus, nothing more.”
Suddenly his demeanor became grave as he turned his chair so that he would completely face me, a movement I did not reciprocate. “On a cellular level, it is dividing rapidly.”
Obviously he had not finished in his review, something that caused me to feel as though I was off today; I should have known everything that would leave his mouth by now. “How rapid?”
“Twice. Claire would deliver whatever this many end up as, as early as four months into gestation, fully developed. According to you she can heal instantly from a wound, days from viral or bacterial infection, but this being would be half of both of you and I fear that there is a chance that her body would struggle with the option to protect a pregnancy or terminate it. However, I truly believe that she would carry this child to its term, but if her body perceives it as a threat the term would be rushed. As soon as development would be complete, the child would have to come. This would all depend on Claire. There are too many possibilities.”
Though I was not an optimist I asked, “Best case scenario?”
His mood lightened slightly once he was given room for hope. “The best case scenario I can offer is that Claire’s body will accept a pregnancy, and her metabolism spikes may help her. If her body begins to break down from expending so much energy she will tap into her reserves, and a pregnancy will last much shorter than four or five months. Metabolism is key in pregnancies. She is able to provide a large amount of energy, and genetics are unpredictable… There is a chance of this offspring possessing your traits, and another could drain her just as much as a regular pregnancy if it has traits of Aceso and she is unable to eat enough to compensate.”
Nodding to myself, I exhaled sharply.
“Dr. Wesker?” he asked. “This gestation must proceed at least until the equivalent of a human fetus at 16 weeks. Major, physical anomalies will be noticeable by then. We will also be able to determine any other underlying issues.”
Staring at the ceiling, I cupped my cheek in my hand, attempting not to sound so sentimental over something that merely displayed potential. “Sixteen weeks.”
“Only two months by my count,” he chimed, reminding me that this would not take as long as many thought. If he was correct in his estimation then it would in fact only take two months rather than four.
“No more than eight weeks Seaborne.”
His grin reappeared, the cogs in his head loud enough for me to guess that he thinking of other ways to delay termination in the future. I did not desire to kill him when he showed such loyalty to me, but there was a chance that it could be re-gifted to his very own baby. Many of my creations have fallen into the hands of others, but this was something I would not merely allow the US Government to cart off. When I declared my devotion to this, I believe they were only half-listening, but no one wanted to endure the consequences if they were to attempt taking this from me.
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