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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Optio
Chapter 5: Ludus
January 8, 2001 Monday 12:25 PM

Subject: Kennedy, Leon Scott
Location: Denver, Colorado
Status: Anxious

I was still in Denver, now I had nothing to do though, and since Chris had gotten in touch with Claire there was nothing for me to investigate. But it wasn’t like I wanted Claire to be missing. I just wanted her ass here. The thought of my absent friend had reminded me that I didn’t fill her neighbor in on her whereabouts, so I decided to head out to the apartments since I didn’t get her number.
I contemplated taking my debit card with me; I was debating whether or not I should ask her out. I might as well have some kind of fun here. As soon as I put on my jacket I dashed down the hallway to the elevator of the hotel where I was staying, and I hurried over to the apartment complex. I had no idea if Maritza was even at home right now, yet I decided to chance it and see if she was. The memory of my unpleasant visit to Mr. Sidorov’s made me grimace as I headed to the stairwell & made my way up quickly. It was then difficult to fight the smile that crept along my face as I stood before her door with my hand up to knock, making sure to remind myself that this was not business so the cop knock was unnecessary.
I waited a bit, nervous that she wouldn’t answer but if she didn’t I knew there was a part of me that would have immediately jumped to the conclusion that she just didn’t give a shit enough to answer for me. Then I heard the chain sliding from its resting place, my reaction was to “act” cool.
“Leon!” she breathed excitedly once she saw that I was her visitor, and once more that little voice chimed that I play it smooth.
“I thought you should know that everything with Claire is fine, she’s traveling with friends.” I had to remember to smile now. I also took the time to notice how hot she looked right now. Her black hair hung in loose, natural curls that almost reached down to her naval, a tight, white wife beater hugged her hourglass figure, and her pair of dark jeans was worn very tightly. Something else definitely stood out to me though: she had implants, a factor that was no problem for me, and I actually found it cute that she was so small with such large “assets.” As a male I couldn’t help but take all of this in about her, and the fact that she was racially ambiguous was a turn on in a mysterious way.
Her voice reminded me that I had to be somewhat professional, at least until she agreed to go out. Thank God. We decided to head out to a TGI Friday’s on East 49^th Avenue, Maritza being the one to drive since she knew the way and I wasn’t trying to wreck my government issued rental looking for a restaurant in my attempt to get some. It was cold outside, thankfully not snowing though. I wouldn’t have been used to the weather here anyway seeing as I was unable to actually live in Colorado because of the Raccoon City incident.
In all honestly it kind of turned me off to living here; no matter how lovely of a place it was, just knowing that the hole in the ground that was Raccoon City was not too far away made me remember the horror every second that I was here. Lost in my thoughts I failed to pay attention to the directions, and next thing I knew we were pulling into a parking space, but she didn’t seem to mind that I was quiet.
Out of courtesy she asked, “Are you ok?” Her hazel eyes were alight with what could have been worry.
Offering her a crooked grin I reassured her with, “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing wouldn’t have you staring off into space.” Her voice was gentle, no trace of an attitude anywhere, but she was certainly hinting that she knew whatever was on my mind was not something that could just be pushed aside.
We went inside after I promised to spill what was on my mind, everyone knew about it so why shouldn’t I have told her that I was involved a little bit more than others. And though I had just met her something about her was so genuine and real that I felt I needed to go into further detail about the results of my involvement and survival.
Just looking at her, I had a feeling that I’d be visiting Denver a lot more.
She ordered a salad with sweet tea and lemon, typical chick thing to do on the first date, and I being the American I am got a Jack Daniel’s burger and a mug of beer. Our drinks came first of course, and she would take a sip every now and then but I chose to wait to take a swig of mine.
She tilted her head forward, trying not to be rude by verbally pressing me to speak on what was bothering me. I adjusted myself in the booth before looking into her eyes that showed she was willing to listen to every word intently.
Though I’d been through it I had to exhale deeply to once more recount the incident, but I would not go too far into detail on the matter just yet with her. “I’m a survivor of the Raccoon City Incident.”
It never got easier saying those words.
Her eyes went wide, her mouth slightly parted, and I could tell she was eating up the fact that she was sitting here speaking with someone who had made it through such an impossibly real circumstance.
“What really happened?” She sounded intrigued more so than terrified, which was better than the latter since most women would want nothing to do with me after finding out that I was involved with that nightmare. Maybe it had to do with them thinking my mind had been fucked to all hell and I howled in the night while wetting my bed. Or maybe they just thought that it was dangerous to even be seen with someone who bore the scars of Raccoon City and the aftermath of a careless conglomerate pharmaceutical company that they depended on from diapers to defense.
Though my mother had told me it was rude I needed to be cut slack as I placed my elbows on the table to rest my back. God knows even giving a summary of this was hell on me.
I cleared my throat and continued. “It started in a laboratory, and the virus was eventually brought to the Arklay Mountains to a secret lab beneath the mansion they had hidden deep within the forest. There was an outbreak of the virus, dogs that had escaped were infected, and they infected whoever they came across. Those victims returned to the city, and began feeding upon the citizens, and to make things worse S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team had lost contact after being dispatched to obtain the dead man walking: Billy Coen. Out of Bravo only one member survived and successfully made it off of another infested island. Alpha was dispatched next to rescue the surviving members of Bravo, of course when they first headed out there were four of them still alive.”
My eyes had left her face and wandered down to my clasped hands; I hadn’t realized how hard I had been squeezing them.
“So the other three died? It wasn’t bad was it?’
At that my head snapped up, and I was unintentionally projecting rage towards her through my tone. I didn’t know them, I wasn’t there, but I knew the story all too well thanks to my curiosity and friendships with two of the surviving members of S.T.A.R.S. (Rebecca and Barry). “Kenneth’s head was almost ripped off, Forest was pecked to death by crows, and Richard survived the attack of a giant snake only to be finished off by a shark.”
My intention wasn’t to scare her, but I did. I just couldn’t believe that she actually though anyone went peacefully. “It turned out that S.T.A.R.S. was sent there for the collection of Combat Data against Bio Organic Weapons by their captain, Albert Wesker who had been working for Umbrella since he was a kid. All for the virus that caused the outbreak that led the President to take action of a nuclear quarantine. Bravo went in with seven members but only one made it out. Alpha 6, four came back, but Brad was killed during the outbreak in the city and Wesker doesn’t count as alive.”
I quickly added, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“How did you fit into all of this?” she asked innocently, leaning over the table.
“I was a rookie with the RPD. I kinda partied hard and I showed up late my first and last day of work there. It was a mess, and that’s where I met Claire. She was there looking for her brother, one of the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members. We began finding things out: we met a little girl whose father was partially responsible for the mess, she needed our help. We even found out that the police chief Brian Irons was actually a serial killer.”
Intentionally, I left out Ada. “It was a battle to get Sherry a cure. Her father had… done something that put her in danger. Birkin was on Umbrella’s hit list because of his virus, and while he had some life left in him he injected himself with a remaining syringe, thinking it would save him. He wreaked havoc on the town, but what he did to Sherry… I know it wasn’t a conscious decision; he had lost control. When I made it out I was immediately taken into custody by the United States Government and given no choice but to work for them.”
Shocked by my story, she shook her head and asked, “What happened to the little girl?”
I shrugged pathetically. “We don’t know. Maybe Umbrella?”
“And you can never leave?”
“Until I’m used up and then some,” I said, giving in to the urge to take a swallow of my beer.
“It’s not over.” I looked up and saw her fishing around in her purse until she produced a silver compact with the Umbrella logo on the bottom.
I pushed it back towards her, signaling that she needed to put it away. “Their stocks are plummeting but they’re still in business, and since they’re doing about the same in less developed countries they’re still afloat.”
“All right,” a familiar voice announced. Our redheaded waitress set out plates out in front of us, announcing the names of our dishes to ensure she was delivering us with the right meals. “Is there anything I can get you guys?”
Maritza swiped up her compact and held it up to the waitress. “Yes, could you get rid of this for me please?” she politely requested. As if it would bite she pinched it between her thumb and middle and pointer fingers. Apparently she was no fan. With a sense of satisfaction Maritza looked at me, possibly hoping that the gesture had made me feel more at ease, and she was right.
I looked down at my burger and fries, now feeling that I deserved to indulge myself. “Looks good.”
January 8, 2001 Monday 1:34 PM

Subject: Kennedy, Leon Scott
Location: Denver, Colorado
Status: At ease

I got to know Maritza quite a bit from our time at the restaurant. I learned she played video games and preferred that and cooking to going out. Honestly from a guy’s standpoint there’s nothing better than being able to fuck your best friend and cook, well if it came to that that is. She was an only child; her father came from Italy while her mother was Panamanian, and when I found that out it was a done deal. Call me a sucker for exotic women.
She worked as a Call Center Analyst, making six figures a year due to the fact that she was trilingual. As I walked her to her door I asked, “So why are you living here?”
After unlocking the door she looked up at me and whispered, “Because I’m twenty-two, single, no kids, and no responsibility other than my work.”
I raised an eyebrow at how she chose to keep things simple, and honestly I admired that.
She slipped in through her doorway and asked, “Coming?”
I was thrown for a loop, but I entered anyhow, trying to figure out how she went from the aggressed to the aggressor.
“I saw you sipping your beer modestly,” she called from her kitchen area. “Want a bottle?”
“Sure, thanks.” I locked her door behind me and began taking in what the room that was her den. I had seen a picture of Claire’s place and Maritza’s was set up differently. Perhaps it was even slightly larger. A black. leather armchair was to my right, and the matching couch was sitting with its back to the kitchen area. A 32-inch flat screen was set into an entertainment system that was inhabited by game consoles. There was a Dreamcast, a Playstation, and a Nintendo system. There was even a stereo system that she more than likely had hooked up to the TV.
“Sit down,” she ordered me once she saw me gawking and she came over to set two beers down on the glass coffee table in front of the couch. Since I’d most likely be there for a bit I removed my coat and she took it to the closet next to the door without a word. After removing her own she made her way back over to me and we sat together with enough space between us to ensure that no unspoken rules of proximity were broken.
“How much longer you gonna be here?” The black-haired woman took a swig of her beer, showing that she was now comfortable enough in my presence to drop the dainty act.
I took a gulp, “Um, two more days after tonight. Business got handled a little too quickly.”
Maritza only nodded, not pushing to know what I was there for in the first place. “You reside in D.C.?”
“Sadly.”
“And why is that sad?” she asked, possibly hoping that my answer would involved her and some sweet line to get me into her pants faster. She was right.
I took another gulp of my beer, almost done with it already. Damn I needed to slow down. “Because it’s gonna be harder to get back up here for another date.”
She smiled at me, a sweet smile not showing any teeth, and I knew I needed to be the one to make the first move. I set the brown bottle down and scooted over to her, the action of her lifting her face telling me that she knew what I was planning on doing, and that she wanted it. My lips met with hers, and instantly our tongues were battling against each other, vying for dominance.
Boldly, I let a hand wander up her wife beater, to my surprise I was met with the feel of toned abs. Never had I seen a woman in person who had managed to get her body fat down so low, not even during my training. In my surprise she had managed to gain the upper hand, pushing me off of her so that she could straddle me. She raised her shirt over her head, revealing a black bra that concealed the two things that had caught my attention earlier.
Since I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon I took this time to further inspect her body, and I saw she only possessed a four-pack which was good because I didn’t want her to always be dominating me.
My staring was noticed. “I take my health very seriously,” she said with a grin.
Soon there wasn’t much to say other than, “oh,” “ah,” and a few times she had to bite her bottom lip to keep herself from giving me the satisfaction of hearing her moan my name. She had been in control yet she was losing herself to me, and the proof of that was when she barely gave me time to put on a rubber.
Normally I didn’t fuck on the first date, but for this girl I had to make an exception. Neither of us was ashamed in the end. She just stared after me longingly when we awoke from our doze, not satisfied until I said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
January 10, 2001 Thursday 8:16 AM
Subject: Redfield, Chris
Location: Classified
Status: Fine

“I swear to God Redfield, this better be good.” Jill angrily took her seat next to me at the long, black table that was usually reserved for the big dogs.
“What do you have to do on a Thursday Valentine?” I asked, flipping through the tabloid I smuggled in from the lounge; I knew I’d be waiting for a while. “What is this crap? Who doesn’t know Angelina Jolie’s a freak by now?” I threw the cheaply constructed magazine down, swiveling in my chair a bit to take a look at my partner. She looked tired, her hair fell lifelessly around her face, her plump lips were chapped, and her eyes were puffier than they usually were.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Her face twisted up into a scowl and she raised her arms only to drop them in exasperation. “It’s fucking eight in the morning Christopher! You don’t exactly look too hot yourself.”
With a grin I remembered that she had been in this weird mood for a few days now, so I just chalked it up to her monthly visitor being around the corner. “You didn’t sleep did you?” I asked with a smirk, resting my chin in my hand. The brunette rolled her eyes at me, giving me an answer: no. “It’s ‘cause I wasn’t there to help huh?”
That earned me a slap in the arm. I mocked being in pain, something that eventually made her crack a smile.
“Here,” I offered her my bottled water, I had already chugged down one earlier, and she looked like she didn’t even bother throwing a waffle in the toaster.
Rather than get upset about the underlying meaning of my gesture she took the plastic bottle and said, “Thank you.”
In return I smirked, watching her sip slowly.
She made it halfway through the bottle before she stopped and turned to me. “So what’s this about?”
“We’re meeting with a company that recently pulled out any stock they shared with Umbrella. Ripped their contracts to shreds too.”
A look of relief swept over her tired face.
Jill was tired, not just from having to wake up so early after being out late. This constant fight against bioterrorism was potentially turning ugly, and it seemed things initially held in labs may have been about to spill out into the streets. Much to the people’s ignorance the Black Market existed, it just wasn’t set up in a back alley in New York with curtains for doors and a blood-drenched merchant unwilling to remove a provisional mask. The pharmaceutical Black Market especially had no base, but instead was comprised of a chain of greedy, crooked doctors that met in cafés, subways, and even church events. Ever since the United States Government got a hold of it there were people willing to endanger their country for the love or need of money.
“Did you find out where Claire is?” The question seemed to come out of nowhere, but she may have just predicted that I was getting myself upset again.
“Road-tripping with some friends and her boyfriend.” I spat the word out with such distaste. I mean I guess he was her boyfriend, or as a matter of fact I hoped that he was because if there were more guys with them and… Oh my God I can’t think of that right now.
“Boyfriend?” Even Jill who was not related to us knew that this sounded odd. Claire was never one for male companionship.
Not saying I thought my baby sister was a lesbian, she just never showed interest in wanting a man as a love interest. So I came to accept that maybe she was just a person that didn’t enjoy people period, and there are many men and women out there who just find the prospect of a relationship superfluous. Hell, sometimes I thought like that, which is probably why Jill hated me twenty-three percent of the time. To the female species a title meant something. It was security that I could not give her though, not when there was no guarantee I would always make it out alive.
God it must have hurt her to be made love to by a man but never hear him say it.
“Who is it?” She played with the plastic bottle while I pinched the bridge of my nose to signal my annoyance with the fact that I had no idea.
“Never heard mention of him, and no name.”
“You didn’t ask?” The volume of her voice rose significantly once she had heard that I, Chris Redfield, Nosey Brother Extraordinaire didn’t know the guy’s social and vaccination records.
“I couldn’t. She’s just really starting to piss me off Jill. It’s like she’s pushing me at this point.” I held my head in my hands as a migraine manifested itself inside of my skull.
My partner cleared her throat, about to say something helpful, but the sound of the double doors to our right opening brought an end to our personal conversation. Brunet men in suits all piled into the room, looking almost the same strangely, but the very last man stuck out the most. He had on a suit as well, but he looked like he had no idea how to wear it, it was as if he just wore it because it was expected of him.
The sore thumb’s hair was completely white, tied back into a ponytail with a strand hanging freely, but what made him so distinguishable was that he had the sight of only one dull, gray eye. The other was shut and had been for an unknown period of time, but a scar trailing from his eyebrow to the bottom of it gave a clue as to what may have happened.
It was obvious that Jill was trying not to stare, and neither was I.
In a thick and untainted Russian accent he said, “Greetings comrades. The meeting may commence.”
January 10, 2001 Thursday 1:16 PM
Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Red Lodge, Montana
Status: Confused

“So, we have a piano now.” Wesker stood somewhat proudly next to me near the doorway of the living room, and I tried to be optimistic just for the sake of being nice but I wasn’t so sure about where his head was right now. “I mean I can’t play but it’s nice. It’s very… black.” The subtext read, “Like everything else you own.”
Since the Luomas returned and Stephanie left-thank God her last day here she shut herself in her room-I had not seen much of Wesker and really there were only so many places he could have been. This convinced me that this house harbored secrets that I was not being let in on. It wasn’t like I wanted to be his friend or anything but I did everything alone: grocery shopping, watching the news, working out, and I did the cooking most of the time. The only time I had any damn company was when we ate.
I was his bodyguard not his fucking assistant!
Speaking of food I was starving. My metabolism was through the roof ever since I was thrown into a house with a gym. “I’m gonna go to Subway.”
Surprisingly he turned to me and asked, “Do you mind if I join you?” Okay well it wasn’t much of a surprise since food was involved.
I agreed to let him join me since it was best that we be seen together a little more, but the stares we got were very unwelcomed so we both looked to each other and silently made an agreement that we should take our subs to go.
Back at the house we ate in peace, not even looking at one another, but after we both finished I decided to start up a conversation with him. It would more than likely lead to me being shut down but it didn’t matter; I just wanted an answer and at least an argument would have been different.
“So you gonna tell me about your little secret rooms?” More confidence exuded me than even I expected and it was something that scared me. I didn’t want to sell myself short but damn it I surely wasn’t going to snivel in the face of another human.
His mood was clearly an unpleasant one. “I don’t have to tell you anything Miss Ivanov.”
“So you wanna play that game Jeffrey?” My tone was mocking, and my voice was strong. I was sick of being alone and then being shut out only worsened the matter for me. “If I’m your girlfriend maybe you should tell me.”
“I knew eventually the Redfield in you would once again proceed to grate on my final nerve.”
He shocked me with that one. We had somewhat been getting along lately but there was just something that upset me whenever he brought up my family name to use it as a reason as to why I behaved a certain way. He made it seem like we were his gypsies and that we were second class citizens standing next to the great Wesker clan assuming there was one. I highly doubt someone like him could have been loved as a child since he could switch on the asshole switch as soon as he was questioned. Then again maybe it had already been on which would explain his withdrawal from any type of contact with me.
In his creepy, secret hidey-holes of the house there was no telling what he was doing, and if he had a little science project going on it was obvious that any failures were going to be upsetting to him.
The prospect of him working here did not make me happy, as a matter of fact my blue eyes shot open. “You’re not working here are you?”
Balling up his sandwich paper he got to his feet and I could hear the forced boredom in his voice as he said, “What I do in my home is none of your business Miss Redfield.”
As I sat there baffled that he saw nothing was wrong with doing a little mixing and making here and there he started for the kitchen, but I was up out of my chair faster than you could say bio-weaponry. “It is my business if there’s a possibility that I could wake up with a half-brained cannibal standing over me drooling!”
His steps faltered, but only for a few seconds, and he was on the move again.
There was no way in hell he was going to walk away from me so I was quickly on his heels as he made his way to the den. “You can’t just ignore the fact that I went through hell all because your precious Umbrella failed to do its job: protect!” Like any man he made his way to the couch and turned on the television, except his choice of viewing was CNN.
“I’m living here too!” I practically shrieked, knowing that there was no way he was possibly able to ignore me.” The sad part of this was that the emotions I was displaying were very much real, the fear, the anger, and anything else that came up. I didn’t want Hunters growing in the basement or the moths growing so large that they required a guest house, and I knew all too well that after Umbrella fucked up the first time it was just the beginning a huge clusterfuck.
My screaming had managed to affect him though; he just delayed his reaction by five seconds. The TV shut off and he jumped up, turned around, and smashed the lamp on the table behind the couch onto the floor. Seething, shaking, he grabbed hold of the back of the couch and gripped until I thought his closely nails would manage to pierce the leather. “For how much longer?” he hissed, his eyes burning behind his shades, and it was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable.
My silence provided him with the moment he needed to get in his lately failed quota of berating a less intelligent being, and I was on the receiving end tonight. “I live in this house,” he said slowly, like I was a dog that he was scolding for pissing on the rug and he was attempting to explain exactly why it was wrong. “I. Am. Human. Your help was employed for my safety. Why would I place myself in the face of danger?”
Tears glistening in my eyes I simply replied with, “Because you know how to handle these things Wesker.”
His jaw finally relaxed, and he turned around and sunk into the leather couch, providing me with the first instance of him practicing bad posture.
My body was still tense, and I still had more to say because right now I believe I had him thinking. I didn’t survive Raccoon City or Rockfort because of my skills at combat or ability to solve intricate puzzles that made no sense in relation to their location or the history of it. I made it because of that Redfield luck everyone promoted like it was a hot commodity. There was no reason I should have survived both events, and I’d bet money that if this all was a book, or a show, or a game that I would have been that insignificant character that was killed off just because I served no real purpose.
“I shouldn’t be alive today,” I whimpered, disappointed in the crack in my fortress of defense. “And if someone were to ask me, ‘Claire do you think you’d survive another outbreak?’ I’d say no chance in hell. You don’t know what it’s like to be living on luck.”
My assumption was apparently too bold, and all too wrong. Rather than continue this argument the blond got to his feet and made his way upstairs.
Then I thought long and hard as I stood alone amongst the broken glass before being hit with what could have only been a revelation. Albert Wesker would have never revealed such a thing to me: He walked, spoke, and breathed because of luck.
For the next three days we said nothing to one another except when we finally accepted the Luomas’ invitation to their church. Our game of house was unaffected by our home life avoidance mainly because the falsity of Mary rubbed off on us so easily. At the church brunch we used my real-life problem as an explanation as to why my mood seemed soured: I was feeling sick as a dog. Maybe it had to do with me showering and then disregarding common sense to step out into the cold, January air with a wet head. Fears of pneumonia plagued my mind but I lived with a scientist so it was most likely for nothing (I had had an aunt who warned us that wet heads coupled with cold air resulted in pneumonia).
He’d kissed me on the cheek when he feigned worry in front of our audience, and I was too sick to stare daggers at him. I was also too baffled by the townsfolk who insisted on being so near me while I was ill, what if I had had some sort of crazy colored fever?
“Somebody may be expecting a little Jeffrey,” someone teased, but I only smiled in a conjured up sense of embarrassment.
After more lame pregnancy jokes and Mary’s obvious desire that this not be true, “Jeffrey” and I went home, riding in silence. A few times it looked like Wesker wanted to say something but he didn’t, and I figured that maybe he didn’t know how to apologize or request an apology either. As soon as we opened the kitchen door I ran to my bathroom, unsure of whether or not I was going to puke, but just when I made it to my toilet I did just that.
My toilet bowl was soon filled with all I had just consumed, and the sounds of my gagging and coughing were loud enough to be heard from downstairs. I felt my stomach knot up again, but I wasn’t fast enough to hold my hair back and the contractions in my stomach demanded that I steady myself by grabbing hold of something. Just when I thought I’d have to wash bile and breakfast from my hair I felt a slight tug at my scalp, and I emptied my stomach of any of its remaining contents. A hand patted my back either gently or awkwardly before presenting me with a towel. With what little energy I had left I dried the tears of exertion of my face and began wiping it free of the throw up.
The hands that had helped me belonged to Wesker, and he handed me the glass from my sink that was now filled with water and antiseptic. I took a huge gulp and swished it around in my mouth before spitting it into the toilet bowl with what I considered wasted food, and right after that I was relieved of the glass and towel. I would have fallen asleep had the sound of the toilet flushing in my ear not frightened me.
“Let’s get you to bed,” Wesker grunted, picking up my dead weight. Damn this was becoming an annoying pattern. Rather than lay me in the bed he sat me at the very foot, making sure I wouldn’t topple over into the wooden floor face first. He then disappeared into my closet, returning with an oversized tee, a pair of pajama shorts, and a pair of fuzzy socks.
“Put these on,” he commanded, but his tone made it sound more of a request. I groaned a protest, but we both knew my church clothes were too uncomfortable for me to be sleeping in.
“I have school tomorrow,” I moaned, removing my fancy dress and heels.
“Yes dear heart your books are downstairs next to the couch.” His back was turned as I changed, and when he thought I was done he turned back around to help me into the bed. “No fever,” he announced after touching the back of his hand to my forehead. “I’ll get you some medicine.”
And I guess he did. Whenever I woke up I must have groaned loudly because my bedroom door would open, and he would come to insert a spoon into my mouth. A few times he forced me to take sips from a bottle of water. This care was much appreciated, but I can’t say it was unexpected. After all he had no choice but to take care of his caretaker. The day was gone soon as I was medicated the whole way through, applesauce being my only sustenance since I could barely lift my head. And I hoped that I would sleep the whole night away despite slumbering the whole day.
Sick or not, I had classes to attend to.
January 14, 2001 Monday 2:53 AM
Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Red Lodge, Montana
Status: Sick

I wasn’t sure that I had heard anything; still I was compelled to get out of my warm bed. Maybe it was a slight auditory hallucination that had been brought on by my exhaustion, but even if that were the case I decided to tip down to the den and I became more awake and I realized that the sound was the piano. The song was Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, the first movement. I could only hope that it was Wesker playing the music, but even though he had ordered for a piano I had no idea if he possessed the ability to play one. As I neared the living room doorway I noticed how dimly lit it was, a small electric lantern casting shadows over the rug on the floor.
Holding the doorframe to support my still-weak body, I stared at Wesker’s profile, noticing that he played with his eyes shut and a look of peace veiled him. He was completely cut off from the world and I took great notice of his intimacy practiced with the keys, each touch from his long, pale fingers producing its own melodic sound that blended and wove with its predecessor and the following note. I myself let my eyes close gently, feeling that same peace that appeared to envelop the pianist who was seemingly unaware that he had an audience. Never had I imagined that he possessed both the skill and emotion to reproduce such beauty.
Though I could have easily given in to sleep that was not my intention, it was to merely enjoy something peaceful created by him. Chill bumps rose on my arms and the back of my neck once I immersed myself in the music completely, not at all contemplating which parts specifically pertained to sorrow, joy, or what have you, but just being.
Then the music had ended, the movement was finished, and I was left without a clue as to how long I had been standing there. I could only hope that I did not look silly and more like the statuesque figure I pictured myself to appear as in my mind.
The feel of cool breath against my face forced me out of my stupor, yet I could feel that it was not his hopes that I come back to reality, back to Red Lodge. Slowly, sleepily, I opened my blue eyes, and they met with a matching pair that gazed back with the same intensity that existed within the masterpiece that had lured me down from my warm bed. With one of those hands responsible for that very music, he tucked stray strands of hair behind my ear before placing what felt like to me a cool hand on my forehead.
“You’re burning up bodyguard,” he breathed, more concern audible in his voice than there should have been.
“I didn’t know you could play Beethoven,” I whispered weakly, and as soon as the strength in my knees vanished he grabbed hold of me before picking me up bridal style. Carefully, he carried my limp body upstairs, passing my room which created yet another accurate sense of déjà vu. I moaned weakly, not sure why I’d done so, maybe it was all that I could do. I lie on his bed for an amount of time unknown to me, now aware that this was another instance of time mysteriously passing twice in one night.
The sound of bathwater running had not made it to my ears until he once more scooped me up from the bed, and in the brightly light bathroom I squinted with grunts of protest. When had I become so weak and photosensitive?
Wesker laid me down on the floor and turned off the faucet, and I felt fearful as I felt him removing my shorts and then my shirt. I tried to cover my breasts to the best of my ability but he only scooped me up once more before shushing me, although I wasn’t even sure what I was saying. Once I was submerged in the water I could feel that it was ice cold, which was most likely due to the pipes themselves being so cold during the winter freeze. I splashed around blindly in an attempt to get out, but the blond had me pinned by my shoulders.
“We need to get your temperature down,” he growled, proof that right now I was giving him a run for his money, but it was just so damned cold that I didn’t care if this was for my own good. However I didn’t feel much for long, as I had exhausted myself in about fifteen seconds of struggling, letting myself lie in the cold water.
January 14, 2001 Monday 4:57 AM
Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Red Lodge, Montana
Status: A hell of a lot better

I wasn’t sure what time it was, or even if I was still alive. I had felt so terrible throughout the night that whenever I woke I forced myself back into sleep. The last thing I remembered was Wesker dunking me into a tub of cold water, but nothing after that would surface from memory.
“Wesker,” I groaned sleepily, he was merely an afterthought but I felt that I should at least figure out where he was. My pillow was damp, as was my hair from my dunking earlier, but I was strangely comfortable. His care must have been amazing though because I was able to stand without feeling dizzy, so I decided that the first thing I needed to do was shower and brush my teeth. When I came back to my room there was a plate of breakfast for me on my vanity with a tall glass of orange juice.
There was a note propped up against the glass: Drink all of it. With a smirk a realized he was one of those people who believed acidic fruits were a cure-all. I downed it all though and finished everything on my plate. Since I felt better I decided to take my dirty dishes downstairs.
The sound of running water let me know that Wesker was washing his own plate and usual mug, but I didn’t expect him to clean mine as well so I just waited.
“Miss Redfield,” he announced once he saw me standing there in a long sleeved shirt and sweatpants. Without a word he took my glass and plate to clean it himself. “You should check your class schedules. Online classes tend to have homework assignment due the first day whether they be surveys or reading assignments. They may have been up since Saturday actually.”
“Thanks.” Before I walked to the den I looked at the back of his head and said barely above a whisper, “And thanks for taking care of me while I was sick.” Those one-day bugs were no fucking joke.
I logged in on the computer and saw that he was right: assignments had already been posted for English, Math, and Philosophy. The other professors were more than likely twiddling their thumbs but a more thorough review of the schedule showed that they were only giving an assignment a week, thank God.
I recognized those teachers though and so I understood why there was so little homework. They were the teachers with the largest classes. Of course there was no doubt that the Biology quizzes would be difficult since they were going to be based on the readings, and it would be a piece of cake if they weren’t timed. So I would have to read beforehand. Psychology looked easy enough though so that was a load off of my mind, and as for the First Aid class, I definitely had that in the bag.
So my Monday was spent reading and taking quizzes, and I chose to finish up all of my English for the week, and I even began deciding what to write my first paper on. It made me feel sort of good that I was able to concentrate on schoolwork without any distractions or obligations- well Wesker wasn’t a bothersome obligation. It was only expected that a scientist would respect my efforts to excel academically, and he even offered help in Biology and ironically Psychology.
As long as I stayed on top of my game for three months I had nothing to worry about and my GPA would definitely be greatly improved this quarter. I had been referring to them as semesters but Wesker felt I needed the difference to be explained to and understood by me. Fine I’d say it right, but only because he was a hell of a teacher. I could tell that he felt useful when I asked him a question, even when he was in the middle of something.
I called it quits around three o’clock, deciding that I didn’t need to go overboard my first day.
And then the phone rang. I was in no rush to answer seeing as I had an idea who it could have been, which was strange since I missed my big brother.
It was Wesker though who went to stare down at the caller I.D., and the tiniest smirk appeared over his thin lips. “Your brother, dear heart.”
I inhaled deeply before heading over to the small table, looking to Wesker sadly. He knew that Chris was agitated with me. Wait a damned minute so were they both saying that I was annoying?
Rather than have an unnecessary, emotional female episode I just snatched up the phone and held it to my ear. “Hello?”
“For someone going on road trips you sure are home a lot stupid,” was the first thing he said, and the humor he intended failed to show.
As I prepared to come back with a smart retort Wesker stepped away from me and walked off to the kitchen. “For a ‘roid-head you sure are calm during confrontations.”
There was an awkward silence, neither of us knowing how to followup when it was actually customary that we indulge in playful banter. “So,” I began, fishing around my mind for topics. “How’s Jill?”
“She’s good. We had a meeting a few days ago.” He was calm before but in one breath he asked, “Claireareyoustillavirgin?”
The phone dropped from my hands and I had to fumble to catch it. “Wh-wh-”
“I didn’t mean for it to come out that way…” My breathing was deep, and I was sure that he could hear me. His inquiry was not only inappropriate, but also none of his damned business.
“Chris, I don’t do that.” I hoped it would reassure him to hear it from the horse’s mouth, but I doubted it would.
“I know but you’re with this new guy I haven’t even met and you’re traveling with him and… I just want to know that you’re being safe.” He sounded more like the old Chris during this conversation than he had in the last one. He sounded understanding and caring, like the parent that he struggled to be and that I desperately needed to be after we lost ours.
“Chris,” I groaned, smiling at the feelings that were emerging. I was sure that I was blushing now that he was once more giving me “The Talk.” “You don’t need to worry. If I do I’ll be safe-”
“Condoms don’t stop herpes or warts!” He practically shouted.
“Chris,” I said sternly, frowning at the phone. Give him an inch, I thought to myself, rubbing my temples. It wasn’t like I’d be having sex anyway though, not with the man posing as my boyfriend. At that thought I wondered if Jeffrey and Sara had ever spoken of marriage. Oh well.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Well I’ll harass you later. Duty calls. I love you Dumbo.”
“I love you too Meathead.” I smiled as I waited for his line to go dead before I placed the phone on the receiver. Life wasn’t easy right now, but school starting and that phone call made my day a little brighter. So I could hope for a slice of normalcy, well as normal as this game could get. The quarter would fly by and then maybe Wesker’s virus would reemerge by then…
Then I wondered to myself if he would treat our agreement like it was just entertainment for him, or if he would honor his word. So this all meant one thing: I had to have faith in Albert Wesker.
A/N: Sorry for the wait again, I’ll begin working on chapter 6 immediately. I didn’t give Leon and Maritza a detailed “sex scene” because I wasn’t sure if anyone really cared but if you want me to give them one next time they meet just let me know and I will get more into what those rabbits are doing. As you can see she’s not going anywhere. Wonder why? Hmmm. Anywho despite similarities to Kick and Gianna she’s not going to be another Kick or Gianna, just throwing that out there. Also if anyone was wondering, this whole story will not encompass Wesker and Claire being stuck together in Red Lodge. Eventually of course they will have to leave that area especially when Wesker gets his powers back. That town CANNOT be used as an anchor for the two. They need to have tests and trials and whatnot for either of them to say hey I really do wanna be with this person. It’s just not ENOUGH of a bond to me. More will come in Red Lodge but they need worse to come and that is going to be left for the outside world to provide them with.
- 4
- 5
- 6
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