Nightmare Revisted 6 part three
Title: Nightmare Revisted
Fandom: Resident Evil
Genre: Horror, Romance, Action
Pairings: Wesker/Claire (main), Chris/Jill
Rating: M (overall), PG13 this chapter for a bit of action violence
Warnings: Sexual situations, blood, guts and gore, and a little bit of high school level biology.
Summary: Claire never thought that the poison from Antarctica would come back to haunt her. She never realized what it and its antidote were slowly doing to her body. Now she finds herself in the hands of a man she considers the devil himself wondering if she can ever be normal again.
Wesker decided, as he walked through the crowded sidewalks that made up the entertainment area of Phoenix, that he really hated masses of semi-drunk humans. They barely paid attention to what was going on around them, though he had already gotten a few woman try to stop him. Honestly, was there anything about him that said he was interested in some female that smelled like the rotting flesh that they were? He breathed deeply and concentrated on the sharp cinnamon and sugar scent that was Claire. He hadn’t bothered to give excuses to the people at the meeting, just walked out the restaurant after her. He doubted anyone would say much. They had been satisfied by Claire’s presentation, and he doubted that Ratslinger would bother to make an appearance. Intimidation was one of the things that Wesker did really well without having to think about.
The blonde felt both eyebrows raise as he found himself looking at the outside of some club. The place was packed with people and a line had formed on the outside, but he knew her scent said that she was in there. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and popped his neck. He had hated clubs before his rebirth and nothing about them was in the least appealing at the moment. He ignored the protests of the people standing in line as he walked up to the bouncer. The man looked at him, and he had to stop himself from stepping back. Here was someone with a decent sense of self-preservation. Wesker didn’t say anything as he walked into the club.
The music was loud enough that he wondered how people without his ability to heal didn’t go death. Bodies writhed on the floor in something that looked a lot more like a public orgy than dancing, and the sour smell of human pheromones mixed with the rotting smell that followed them everywhere. He scanned the mass anyway, looking for Claire. Her scent was lost in the sheer volume of other scents in the place. Deciding that she was not among the twisting, lewd bodies he headed for the bar. It was there he found her; a few strands of hair escaping the careful twist of her hair, a glass of something a putrid shade of yellow placed in front of her. He watched as the bartender reached over with a lighter and lit it. He moved so he was leaning on the bar next to her as she took a sip and waited. The last thing he needed was for her to bolt again.
“They call it a flaming zombie,” she said and let out a little giggle that told him she was not quite as sober as she could be. “They’ve clearly never had to deal with a flaming zombie,” Claire said frowning as she looked at the drink. How many of these had she had? The bartender was nice enough that he hadn’t asked her to pay yet, and she knew that Wesker would come looking for her one way or another. She hoped her bill wasn’t too large and then snorted at the ridiculousness of it all.
“I think it’s time for us to go, dear heart,” Wesker said softly, but knew she could hear it over the noise. He took her elbow gently and eased her off the stool. She wobbled a second before getting her footing. His hand never left her elbow as he began to steer her through the crowd, one hand hitting the little button on his phone that would summon the limo. She waited until they were outside before shaking him off even as she listed dangerously in the heels.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she hissed her eyes flashing behind mirror lenses as the sleek black shape of the limo pulled up on the curve. Wesker merely raised an eyebrow as he opened the door before the driver could get out and do it.
“Tell you what?” he asked as she continued to stand-it was more like sway with her sense of balance being so off- on the sidewalk. She let out a sigh and moved to get in the car. There were a million different things she could make that one question ask. Why hadn’t he told her in the beginning about the meeting? Why hadn’t he told her more of just what was being affected by the virus? But she went with the most obvious as he got in the limo after her. The limo took off before she answered him, the drinks in her system making her mellow.
“Why didn’t you tell me I would react that way to blood?” Claire finally asked. Wesker stretched himself out as he thought. Sure, Ratslinger’s blood had smelt good, but it was not good enough he would want to eat it. Is that what had happened to Claire? Her running made more sense then. Any connection she found with the masses of infected bothered her more than anything else about her situation.
“How did you react?” the blonde asked, and Claire wanted to pull her hair out. She glared at him and took her sunglasses off.
“It smelled good, alright?” she snapped. “Like the best damn dessert in the universe.” It felt like something hurt her to say that, a pain deep in her chest. What was she turning into if she found human blood irresistible? God, would she be safe to let loose in the world? Maybe she should be locked up somewhere.
“But you didn’t go after it, did you?” Wesker asked finding her seeming moral dilemma amusing. She was distressed over something little like this? What was she going to do when she encountered basic infected and found they no longer tried to attack her? Would she find a corner somewhere and wail until something attacked her to shut her up?
“Sort of,” she said through clenched teeth. “I had to stop myself.” He shrugged at her then.
“Seeing as I encountered a biteless Ratslinger in the hallway when I went looking for you, I fail to see how this is even an issue,” Wesker said his mind already more interested in the results from the centrifuge machine at the lab. Claire wondered how she could see her eyes were so narrowed.
“Some of us would like to be human, Wesker,” she snarled her anger practically crackling in the air around her. “Not all of us are so eager to shed our humanity and those who tie us to it. But then again, you never had anyone, did you? I wouldn’t be surprised if you were born in a test tube and grew up in a lab like some kind of overly interesting insect.” She didn’t care that what she said was mean and almost designed to set off the blonde’s temper. She was angry, but more than that she was scared-scared that she was losing her humanity bit by bit. The brunette’s personality made it impossible to own up to the fear, especially with the man sitting across from her. So, she clung to her anger and hurled it at him.
Wesker was next to her in a flash, his speed that unnerving blur of power. She felt his hand around her neck and instead of being afraid all she could think was that his hands had calluses on them. The webbing of his hand that rested just under her chin was rough from dealing with the recoil of a slide on a handgun, the fingertips on the sides of her throat harsh from working the weapon. She inhaled and wondered at her own mind before deciding to blame it on the drink. Too much rum could do lots of things to one’s mind. But Wesker just held his hand there, tilting her chin so that she was forced to look him in the face.
“You have no idea how lucky you are that I need you alive, dear heart,” his voice was barely a whisper as his thumb traced the pulse point in her throat. She inhaled, feeling her throat flex against his grip.
“I seem to remember having this conversation before,” Claire said her voice just as quiet as his; his scent scorching down her throat. It tasted like before, sharp edged rock candy overlaid with burnt oxygen-deadly and sweet. They hung there for a moment-her watching as he drew a breath to say something before the sound of squealing tires was heard with a roaring crunch. She had a split second to curse the lack of seat belts in the limo before she made contact with the black tinted glass hard enough to shatter it and continue moving. She was unaware of Wesker following her path via his attachment to her neck nor of him twisting them in the air so his body took the majority of the impact when they slammed into the side of a parked car. The car alarm was blaringly loud in her ears as she pushed herself into sitting position. She blinked in confusion. There were warm trickles of something as it crept down her back, shoulders and arms. She brought a hand up to look at it, red coating her fingertips. Looking at it brought her back to reality with the force of a punch to the gut and she stood rapidly her mind thinking about the unique properties of her blood.
“Fuck,” Claire swore as she stumbled, one of the heels on her shoes having been broken in the impact. She heard Wesker moving behind her but didn’t bother turning to look at him as she drew the knife still thankfully attached to her and protected by the flesh of her inner thigh. She kicked off the heels as she counted the armed men illuminated in the light provided by the fire in the twisted remains of their limo. They had hit it with an armored car. “Wesker,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth all enmity forgotten in the face of this threat. A desperate laugh wanted to choke its way out of her throat as she was rapidly hit with the stupidity of her appearing to bring a knife to a gunfight. “Wesker.” She heard a grunt and the sound of something a part of her could identify as bone popping as it was put back in place.
“I see them, dear heart,” Wesker’s voice was just as quiet as her own. He flicked his eyes from the wreckage where he could just barely make out the logo of the Phoenix Police Department. These people were not military, and being that they were sworn to protect, they would be worried about civilian casualties. Still, things were not good. There were around twenty of them in full riot gear, and he had bled all over the car door. While Claire was not traditionally contagious, he was.
“Don’t move!” a male voice said in a commanding tone, “Drop the knife and put your hands behind your head!” He could see Claire practically tremble with tension at the order. Neither had intention of complying. He estimated the distance and the strain he was going to put on his rapidly healing body seconds before he moved.
“Duck,” the blonde hissed at Claire as he crouched reaching under the side of the car to make sure of his grip milliseconds before he heaved. The car flew-scant few inches of clearance between it and her back as she hit the road. He was stronger than human but heaving the car was still not something easy for him to do. He was already running, reaching down to haul Claire up like she weighed nothing, as the car hit the limo and exploded in a shower of flames and twisted metal. The two of them ran flat out-super human speed making them almost blurs to the gunman. Pings and cracks were heard as they opened fire despite the blast, and he wondered with a bit of amusement just how the government was going to explain him hurling a car at them.
“Where are we going?” Claire asked as they hit the end of the street and he was pleased to note she still had white knuckled grip on her knife. Perhaps there was a reason beyond dumb luck that she had managed to survive so far.
“The airport,” he told her as he took note of the traffic on the street. He stepped in front of the first car to come along hissing as he took a bullet in his upper shoulder. They were aiming to cripple, how nice. It screeched and swerved before stopping. Wesker walked over and pulled the gibbering driver out dumping him on the side of the road. Claire said nothing as she got in and buckled her seat belt. Wesker threw the hybrid into gear, sneering at the lack of acceleration the thing had. He could hear the sirens headed their way but with a little bit of luck he’d make the three miles to the airport before they caught up.
Claire didn’t put the knife away until she was on the plane and even then her fingers flexed like they were still expecting it to be there. Wesker had spent the past half hour on the phone with someone. She had been too busy shaking as the adrenalin ran out and her body rejected the alcohol she had ingested to find out who it was. He had just finished and stood from the seat across from her. Her eyes widened as she saw the crimson smear he left behind on the chair.
“You’re injured,” she said rising to follow him despite the exhaustion in her limbs. He was in the small bathroom digging around under the sink. He didn’t bother to pause in his search as he spoke.
“Your powers of observation astound me,” Wesker said flatly as he stood up holding the first aid kit. The brunette frowned at him. The wreck had taken the edge off her anger, and he appeared to be trying his damnest to put it back on. She followed him as he carried it back to the area they had been sitting in.
“I merely wanted to know if you needed some help,” Claire said watching as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and began trying to undo the buttons one handed. She had caught the wince as he moved his right shoulder and sighed. She moved so that she was in front of him and slapped his hands away. She began unbuttoning them without looking at anything, other than the chest that was rapidly revealed. She ignored it beyond a cursory acknowledgement that it was wrong for someone to be so evil and built so well. She helped him ease it off his right shoulder and looked at the gunshot wound. The trail of blood it was leaking was sluggish, and she frowned at it. “Shouldn’t this have healed?”
“It will as soon as the bullet is removed,” Wesker said flatly handing her a pair of tweezers from the kit. She took them with a little sound of comprehension and pushed against his chest so he tilted to the side, and she had better light. She pressed two fingers from her left hand on either side of the wound and pushed gently to open it so she could see. She had gotten decent at removing bullets from the time she had spent pulling them out of her brother. He had an almost fatal fear of hospitals.
“Breathe in,” Claire said as she caught sight of spent round. She felt him being to inhale and inserted the tweezers grasping the edge of the bullet. “Out,” she said as she yanked. He grunted as the bullet came free. She held the tweezers and spent round out to him still without looking at him. He took them and she moved so she was back in her seat. She threw the armrest next to her up so she could sprawl. “I’m going to try to get some sleep,” she told him over the sound of him packing up the kit.
“Very well,” Wesker said, but his reply fell on deaf ears. She was already asleep.
Fandom: Resident Evil
Genre: Horror, Romance, Action
Pairings: Wesker/Claire (main), Chris/Jill
Rating: M (overall), PG13 this chapter for a bit of action violence
Warnings: Sexual situations, blood, guts and gore, and a little bit of high school level biology.
Summary: Claire never thought that the poison from Antarctica would come back to haunt her. She never realized what it and its antidote were slowly doing to her body. Now she finds herself in the hands of a man she considers the devil himself wondering if she can ever be normal again.
Wesker decided, as he walked through the crowded sidewalks that made up the entertainment area of Phoenix, that he really hated masses of semi-drunk humans. They barely paid attention to what was going on around them, though he had already gotten a few woman try to stop him. Honestly, was there anything about him that said he was interested in some female that smelled like the rotting flesh that they were? He breathed deeply and concentrated on the sharp cinnamon and sugar scent that was Claire. He hadn’t bothered to give excuses to the people at the meeting, just walked out the restaurant after her. He doubted anyone would say much. They had been satisfied by Claire’s presentation, and he doubted that Ratslinger would bother to make an appearance. Intimidation was one of the things that Wesker did really well without having to think about.
The blonde felt both eyebrows raise as he found himself looking at the outside of some club. The place was packed with people and a line had formed on the outside, but he knew her scent said that she was in there. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and popped his neck. He had hated clubs before his rebirth and nothing about them was in the least appealing at the moment. He ignored the protests of the people standing in line as he walked up to the bouncer. The man looked at him, and he had to stop himself from stepping back. Here was someone with a decent sense of self-preservation. Wesker didn’t say anything as he walked into the club.
The music was loud enough that he wondered how people without his ability to heal didn’t go death. Bodies writhed on the floor in something that looked a lot more like a public orgy than dancing, and the sour smell of human pheromones mixed with the rotting smell that followed them everywhere. He scanned the mass anyway, looking for Claire. Her scent was lost in the sheer volume of other scents in the place. Deciding that she was not among the twisting, lewd bodies he headed for the bar. It was there he found her; a few strands of hair escaping the careful twist of her hair, a glass of something a putrid shade of yellow placed in front of her. He watched as the bartender reached over with a lighter and lit it. He moved so he was leaning on the bar next to her as she took a sip and waited. The last thing he needed was for her to bolt again.
“They call it a flaming zombie,” she said and let out a little giggle that told him she was not quite as sober as she could be. “They’ve clearly never had to deal with a flaming zombie,” Claire said frowning as she looked at the drink. How many of these had she had? The bartender was nice enough that he hadn’t asked her to pay yet, and she knew that Wesker would come looking for her one way or another. She hoped her bill wasn’t too large and then snorted at the ridiculousness of it all.
“I think it’s time for us to go, dear heart,” Wesker said softly, but knew she could hear it over the noise. He took her elbow gently and eased her off the stool. She wobbled a second before getting her footing. His hand never left her elbow as he began to steer her through the crowd, one hand hitting the little button on his phone that would summon the limo. She waited until they were outside before shaking him off even as she listed dangerously in the heels.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she hissed her eyes flashing behind mirror lenses as the sleek black shape of the limo pulled up on the curve. Wesker merely raised an eyebrow as he opened the door before the driver could get out and do it.
“Tell you what?” he asked as she continued to stand-it was more like sway with her sense of balance being so off- on the sidewalk. She let out a sigh and moved to get in the car. There were a million different things she could make that one question ask. Why hadn’t he told her in the beginning about the meeting? Why hadn’t he told her more of just what was being affected by the virus? But she went with the most obvious as he got in the limo after her. The limo took off before she answered him, the drinks in her system making her mellow.
“Why didn’t you tell me I would react that way to blood?” Claire finally asked. Wesker stretched himself out as he thought. Sure, Ratslinger’s blood had smelt good, but it was not good enough he would want to eat it. Is that what had happened to Claire? Her running made more sense then. Any connection she found with the masses of infected bothered her more than anything else about her situation.
“How did you react?” the blonde asked, and Claire wanted to pull her hair out. She glared at him and took her sunglasses off.
“It smelled good, alright?” she snapped. “Like the best damn dessert in the universe.” It felt like something hurt her to say that, a pain deep in her chest. What was she turning into if she found human blood irresistible? God, would she be safe to let loose in the world? Maybe she should be locked up somewhere.
“But you didn’t go after it, did you?” Wesker asked finding her seeming moral dilemma amusing. She was distressed over something little like this? What was she going to do when she encountered basic infected and found they no longer tried to attack her? Would she find a corner somewhere and wail until something attacked her to shut her up?
“Sort of,” she said through clenched teeth. “I had to stop myself.” He shrugged at her then.
“Seeing as I encountered a biteless Ratslinger in the hallway when I went looking for you, I fail to see how this is even an issue,” Wesker said his mind already more interested in the results from the centrifuge machine at the lab. Claire wondered how she could see her eyes were so narrowed.
“Some of us would like to be human, Wesker,” she snarled her anger practically crackling in the air around her. “Not all of us are so eager to shed our humanity and those who tie us to it. But then again, you never had anyone, did you? I wouldn’t be surprised if you were born in a test tube and grew up in a lab like some kind of overly interesting insect.” She didn’t care that what she said was mean and almost designed to set off the blonde’s temper. She was angry, but more than that she was scared-scared that she was losing her humanity bit by bit. The brunette’s personality made it impossible to own up to the fear, especially with the man sitting across from her. So, she clung to her anger and hurled it at him.
Wesker was next to her in a flash, his speed that unnerving blur of power. She felt his hand around her neck and instead of being afraid all she could think was that his hands had calluses on them. The webbing of his hand that rested just under her chin was rough from dealing with the recoil of a slide on a handgun, the fingertips on the sides of her throat harsh from working the weapon. She inhaled and wondered at her own mind before deciding to blame it on the drink. Too much rum could do lots of things to one’s mind. But Wesker just held his hand there, tilting her chin so that she was forced to look him in the face.
“You have no idea how lucky you are that I need you alive, dear heart,” his voice was barely a whisper as his thumb traced the pulse point in her throat. She inhaled, feeling her throat flex against his grip.
“I seem to remember having this conversation before,” Claire said her voice just as quiet as his; his scent scorching down her throat. It tasted like before, sharp edged rock candy overlaid with burnt oxygen-deadly and sweet. They hung there for a moment-her watching as he drew a breath to say something before the sound of squealing tires was heard with a roaring crunch. She had a split second to curse the lack of seat belts in the limo before she made contact with the black tinted glass hard enough to shatter it and continue moving. She was unaware of Wesker following her path via his attachment to her neck nor of him twisting them in the air so his body took the majority of the impact when they slammed into the side of a parked car. The car alarm was blaringly loud in her ears as she pushed herself into sitting position. She blinked in confusion. There were warm trickles of something as it crept down her back, shoulders and arms. She brought a hand up to look at it, red coating her fingertips. Looking at it brought her back to reality with the force of a punch to the gut and she stood rapidly her mind thinking about the unique properties of her blood.
“Fuck,” Claire swore as she stumbled, one of the heels on her shoes having been broken in the impact. She heard Wesker moving behind her but didn’t bother turning to look at him as she drew the knife still thankfully attached to her and protected by the flesh of her inner thigh. She kicked off the heels as she counted the armed men illuminated in the light provided by the fire in the twisted remains of their limo. They had hit it with an armored car. “Wesker,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth all enmity forgotten in the face of this threat. A desperate laugh wanted to choke its way out of her throat as she was rapidly hit with the stupidity of her appearing to bring a knife to a gunfight. “Wesker.” She heard a grunt and the sound of something a part of her could identify as bone popping as it was put back in place.
“I see them, dear heart,” Wesker’s voice was just as quiet as her own. He flicked his eyes from the wreckage where he could just barely make out the logo of the Phoenix Police Department. These people were not military, and being that they were sworn to protect, they would be worried about civilian casualties. Still, things were not good. There were around twenty of them in full riot gear, and he had bled all over the car door. While Claire was not traditionally contagious, he was.
“Don’t move!” a male voice said in a commanding tone, “Drop the knife and put your hands behind your head!” He could see Claire practically tremble with tension at the order. Neither had intention of complying. He estimated the distance and the strain he was going to put on his rapidly healing body seconds before he moved.
“Duck,” the blonde hissed at Claire as he crouched reaching under the side of the car to make sure of his grip milliseconds before he heaved. The car flew-scant few inches of clearance between it and her back as she hit the road. He was stronger than human but heaving the car was still not something easy for him to do. He was already running, reaching down to haul Claire up like she weighed nothing, as the car hit the limo and exploded in a shower of flames and twisted metal. The two of them ran flat out-super human speed making them almost blurs to the gunman. Pings and cracks were heard as they opened fire despite the blast, and he wondered with a bit of amusement just how the government was going to explain him hurling a car at them.
“Where are we going?” Claire asked as they hit the end of the street and he was pleased to note she still had white knuckled grip on her knife. Perhaps there was a reason beyond dumb luck that she had managed to survive so far.
“The airport,” he told her as he took note of the traffic on the street. He stepped in front of the first car to come along hissing as he took a bullet in his upper shoulder. They were aiming to cripple, how nice. It screeched and swerved before stopping. Wesker walked over and pulled the gibbering driver out dumping him on the side of the road. Claire said nothing as she got in and buckled her seat belt. Wesker threw the hybrid into gear, sneering at the lack of acceleration the thing had. He could hear the sirens headed their way but with a little bit of luck he’d make the three miles to the airport before they caught up.
Claire didn’t put the knife away until she was on the plane and even then her fingers flexed like they were still expecting it to be there. Wesker had spent the past half hour on the phone with someone. She had been too busy shaking as the adrenalin ran out and her body rejected the alcohol she had ingested to find out who it was. He had just finished and stood from the seat across from her. Her eyes widened as she saw the crimson smear he left behind on the chair.
“You’re injured,” she said rising to follow him despite the exhaustion in her limbs. He was in the small bathroom digging around under the sink. He didn’t bother to pause in his search as he spoke.
“Your powers of observation astound me,” Wesker said flatly as he stood up holding the first aid kit. The brunette frowned at him. The wreck had taken the edge off her anger, and he appeared to be trying his damnest to put it back on. She followed him as he carried it back to the area they had been sitting in.
“I merely wanted to know if you needed some help,” Claire said watching as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and began trying to undo the buttons one handed. She had caught the wince as he moved his right shoulder and sighed. She moved so that she was in front of him and slapped his hands away. She began unbuttoning them without looking at anything, other than the chest that was rapidly revealed. She ignored it beyond a cursory acknowledgement that it was wrong for someone to be so evil and built so well. She helped him ease it off his right shoulder and looked at the gunshot wound. The trail of blood it was leaking was sluggish, and she frowned at it. “Shouldn’t this have healed?”
“It will as soon as the bullet is removed,” Wesker said flatly handing her a pair of tweezers from the kit. She took them with a little sound of comprehension and pushed against his chest so he tilted to the side, and she had better light. She pressed two fingers from her left hand on either side of the wound and pushed gently to open it so she could see. She had gotten decent at removing bullets from the time she had spent pulling them out of her brother. He had an almost fatal fear of hospitals.
“Breathe in,” Claire said as she caught sight of spent round. She felt him being to inhale and inserted the tweezers grasping the edge of the bullet. “Out,” she said as she yanked. He grunted as the bullet came free. She held the tweezers and spent round out to him still without looking at him. He took them and she moved so she was back in her seat. She threw the armrest next to her up so she could sprawl. “I’m going to try to get some sleep,” she told him over the sound of him packing up the kit.
“Very well,” Wesker said, but his reply fell on deaf ears. She was already asleep.