I Oughtta Kill You Right Now :: Crossover :: PG :: no pairings
Title: I Oughtta Kill You Right Now (And Do the Whole Wide World A Service)
Fandom: Resident Evil/Tales of the Abyss; hints of DOGS, X-Men, D.Gray-Man, and Sin City
Pairings: NONE. See disclaimer on previous crackfic for details.
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, general, crack, some drama
Word count: 3,995
Spoilers: For RE1; vague references to RE5.
Summary: A follow-up to Child Mine and based originally on this crack RP post, Jill confronts Wesker about Sync's behavior.
It was midnight by the time Jill finally had a spare moment. After ensuring all the kids were in bed - a habit she kept despite knowing that Miho had it under control - she quickly changed into her sleeveless pajamas and made her way towards the last bedroom at the head of the hall, letting her hair down as she went. As expected, the door was closed but light was visible along the bottom crack. It was still early as far as work-to-be-done was concerned.
She knocked twice without hesitating, and then waited for the permissive “Enter” before stepping inside.
Now that they no longer shared it, the room was blandly plain, undecorated except for basic furnishing. It looked and felt more like a hotel room, the desk and bedside table stacked with his current research material and bearing the only personal touch. Wesker himself was sitting in bed, also dressed for sleep but occupied with a laptop in front of him. He didn’t look up as Jill entered.
“Have a minute?” she asked. Her voice was entirely neutral and cool: she came in peace this time, if that wasn’t already obvious from the respect she was showing him. About a minute went by in which Wesker didn’t respond, the swift tap of keys the only sound in the room. Patient and knowing him, Jill remained where she was and waited; finally, she was rewarded with a glance in her direction.
“For you, dear? Always.”
Ignoring the underlying sarcasm, Jill moved around the bed to the opposite side - her side, once - and made the casual, trusting gesture of sitting beside him. The mattress was large enough that they weren’t immediately side-by-side, but she was still within arm’s reach and much closer than she generally preferred to be. Maybe because of this display, Wesker openly turned his attention to her with a slight movement.
“I need you to talk to Sync,” she began bluntly.
“This is about Luke, I presume.”
“You were watching?” There was no surprise or annoyance to Jill’s question. She didn’t expect anything less than having private conversations monitored.
“I saw the bruises,” Wesker corrected as he looked back to the computer. “Sync leaves a distinct signature.” There was no emotion there - no concern, nothing.
“…Yes, it’s about Luke.” Neither Jill nor the stare she’d fixed on her husband budged. “He came to me the other day,” she went on, gentler as she recalled the talk, “upset over some things Sync said to him.”
“I imagine you handled it well.”
“As well as I could.” Jill’s voice and gaze hardened. “Why does Sync know about Luke’s trigger phrase?”
“Does he?” A slight hint of fake, deadpan surprise. “I suppose I should watch my words from now on.”
“Wesker!” she snapped. “I’m serious - Luke is-” She paused, gathering herself, and then momentarily sighed. “…He’s fragile,” she explained. “He’s not weak, but you know what a toll the whole thing with Asch took on him. He’s… still recovering. His self-esteem hangs by a thread sometimes - the last thing he needs is his brother telling him that their father’s going to use him to blow up a city.”
Wesker raised an eyebrow. “It isn’t like Sync to lie,” he mused. “Perhaps he’s not as tactical as I initially thought.”
“My point is,” Jill continued firmly, “Sync does this deliberately. He’ll lash out at anyone he can, and while most of us know how to deal with it, it’s a hell of a lot more detrimental to Luke. Sync knows it - that’s why he goes all out against him.”
“Jill-” Slowly, Wesker reached up to remove his glasses, and Jill didn’t flinch when his bright red gaze met hers. “I know it is in your nature to mean well, but tell me - if, ten years from now, Luke is still recovering, as you say, will you insist on sheltering him and fighting his battles then, also?”
“In ten years, he’ll be an adult,” she countered steadfastly. “And then, only technically. But right now he’s still a child who needs to be nurtured and protected, not dodging emotional abuse every time I turn my back!”
“Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps he has been nurtured and protected too much?” Wesker proposed suddenly.
Jill faltered, visibly taken aback. She’d been accused of spoiling him before, but- “That just maybe your insistence on putting yourself in front of him has only left him more vulnerable when you are not around to save the day?” Wesker pressed, and Jill, uncomfortable, broke eye contact.
She shouldn’t have been surprised. Wesker had always known her insecurities and just how to prey on them, never shy about reaching in and ripping them out. This one, though… The same thought had troubled her a couple times lately, particularly since her talk with Luke.
“…Yes,” she admitted more calmly. Her eyes remained fixed on the bed, but the look was distracted. “I’ve considered that.”
“And yet your habits continue.”
“Why shouldn’t they?” She turned to him. “We’re not animals, Wesker. We don’t - raise our offspring and then just abandon them when the time’s right-”
“Who suggested abandonment? There is a difference between throwing them into the street and making them emotionally dependent.” Then, thoughtfully, “They are likely to survive longer in the former case.”
Jill frowned. “Luke’s not dependent. He’s just not as independent as you consider necessary.”
“And yet, when faced with unsettling truths from an embittered younger child, he found it necessary at his technical age of seventeen to retreat to his doting mother for emotional stability,” Wesker pointed out matter-of-factly, typing once more on the laptop. Jill’s voice caught in her throat as she withheld a retort, but her eyes narrowed and her tone was terse all the same.
“Sync told him that you would throw him away without thinking twice. Worse, that you would use him as a weapon. He also found it necessary to break it to him that you and I don’t love each other.”
“As I said, Sync does not lie,” said Wesker, unperturbed. At a look, he added simply, “He speculates more often than necessary, of course. And don’t give me that look, Jill - what I would and will do are entirely separate.”
Shaking her head, disgusted, she ran a hand through her hair. “Those aren’t things Luke needs to hear.”
“The truth, you mean.”
“The truth that you and I can hardly stand one another? That truth? Yes,” she said stubbornly. “I hate lying to them, but you make it hard enough when you don’t even pretend to give a damn.”
In one of those rare moments of undivided attention, Wesker turned to her skeptically. “I am curious as to how you mended that one - I have difficulty picturing your painting our relationship as heartfelt.”
“I managed something,” Jill replied stiffly.
There was a brief pause between them, the key-tapping taking up the silence again. “There are just some things people are better off not knowing. Not before they’re ready,” she added. It wasn’t even necessary to say - she felt no need to defend her choices from him and Wesker couldn’t care less what she did, really. All the same, it came out, and she went on before he could interrupt. “I’ve raised Luke like I have because I didn’t want him to end up like the others before him.”
“Strong.”
“No, like you.”
“Strong,” Wesker repeated in the same tone, now with a dubious glance.
“Distant, emotionally stunted, and incapable of sympathy,” Jill corrected brusquely. “Haine’s better about it and Nill doesn’t have it in her, but they’re both still…” She trailed off; her gaze drifted aside. “I treat Luke like I believe any decent human should be treated. He’s just one of the few who’s accepted it. If that’s made things more difficult for him in the long run, then I was wrong in some aspects. But I don’t regret raising him as a person. I know he’ll pull through for that very reason.”
More words Wesker didn’t care about, but he watched her blankly towards the end of her explanation. Jill met the look readily and confidently - and a little more openly than usual. “Of all the things that separate us in opinion, Jill, I find your belief in human nature to be one of the most obvious, if not the most puzzling,” he told her coolly. “Despite your past and present circumstances, you stubbornly cling to the idea of the best in people. Is this a conscious denial or are you even capable of not believing it?”
Jill regarded him, equally neutral. “You say it like human nature is a concept.”
“It is, partially.”
“Which is why you don’t believe in people,” she deduced. It wasn’t a question.
“Again, partially. Judgment is the dividing line between you and I - you believe the population is better off learning from its mistakes.”
Jill’s tone flat-lined, an icy edge to her words. “Whereas you think free will is too much trouble, and that the world should just bow down and take your word for everything.”
A cold kind of smile pulled at the corner of Wesker’s mouth; the narrow slits of his eyes seemed to thin slightly. “Is it truly as evil as you make it sound?”
Jill didn’t even see his hand move - suddenly the backs of his fingers stroked her throat, slow and deliberate down to her collarbone as he spoke again. “You personally have seen firsthand just what I can do for this decaying world. You have been a fraction of it.” His voice was… not gentle, but there was an almost soft command to his words - potentially mesmerizing to those more ignorant than Jill.
The contact irritated her, but it wasn’t even reflex to try and knock him away anymore - anyone else, yes, just not him. Such was her life. She watched his face, holding her tongue and only just tolerating the possessive touch.
Wesker’s eyes fell lower. A second later his motions followed, his fingers brushing over her chest - specifically seeking the scars visible above her low neckline. She inhaled sharply but silently as his fingertips found the faded pinpricks, her pale chest rising against his palm. He hadn’t used the administration device in years, preferring direct doses when giving her the virus these days, but the marks were permanent all the same.
“Can you honestly tell me our degenerating race does not require guidance?” he asked, but in a manner that indicated it was rhetorical. “Or that the strongest of our children aren’t the next step?” He pressed more firmly against her scars, making his touch felt. “Can you even attest with full conviction that you despise being what I’ve made you? Stronger, faster, better. Almost on the same level as myself, even, and you know perfectly well that I have shown no other human being such attention.”
His hard eyes met hers as his thumb grazed the beginning curve of her breast. “Are you entirely certain you are as opposed to being under my control as much as you claim?”
With impressive speed in its own right, Jill’s hand snapped up to catch his, firm and a little rough, and he allowed her to push it away. Her expression - cold and hard compared to the blank regard moments before - remained fixed, and she didn’t back down from his piercing stare.
She let that act as her answer.
The following silence was stiff. Wesker, still easygoing and cool, broke off their staring match with a shadow of a smirk. That quiet, almost seductive air about him, the attempt at entrancement that had come with it, disappeared in a blink as he returned to his work. Jill leaned back against the headboard, feeling suddenly tired.
“That’s really why you made them like you did?” she asked at length, staring at the opposite wall. “You tried to kill their emotions and weaponize them for the sake of…” She stopped there. She knew the answer. “Congratulations,” she told him bitterly. “You accomplished that much.”
Wesker’s tone turned a shade of patronizing. “Don’t let your temper color me, Jill. I daresay you know my reasoning better than anyone. I did not intentionally condition Sync to hate himself - no more than you intentionally raised Luke to be so sensitive. Parenting is something we learn as we go - you and I are discovering that firsthand.”
The way he said it - his voice, his attitude, his casual demeanor, all of it reflected that of a normal man discussing the simple, typical habits of his healthy children, as if Sync’s self-loathing were the equivalent of a toddler who didn’t know how to share properly.
As for his reasoning - Jill knew his reasoning, the same reasoning that underlined everything he did: usefulness. Potential. Power. Twisting and working anything and anyone to his benefit. And then there was his narrow-minded idea of “perfection”…
Did he even know, she wondered, the real cost of his standards? Did he know about Laura’s nervous tics, the things she did to herself because she didn’t know how to confront her emotions? How Kanda’s mind was programmed so tightly on practicality that plain things like emotion weren’t just disregarded, but never even learned in the first place? Had Wesker, years ago, known about the nights that Haine had woken up thrashing from his nightmares, and all Jill had done was try to soothe him with her voice because the boy wouldn’t - couldn’t - let her hold him?
Did Wesker even know Jill’s deepest fears? Not the obvious ones he played with to keep a leash on that collar, but the other, invisible scars that P30 had left - the fears that gripped her like few things could anymore, heart-stopping moments that occasionally brought tears to her eyes when she was jerked awake on lonely nights. Her humanity was one thing she’d always been so sure was safe through all that she went through - but Wesker was effective in chipping away at it.
Even if he did know, Jill was aware it wouldn’t have made a difference. Not positively, at least, in her case.
She brought her legs up towards her body, arms looped loosely around her knees. “Learning or not, I could use some of your parenting now.” Her tone was level again. “Just talk to Sync. He won’t listen to me.”
Tap, tap, tap.
“Sync behaves as he only knows how,” Wesker replied. “Honestly, he falls within the limits of correctional discipline in the past. Luke, on the other hand-” He tilted his head just slightly. “Well. His upbringing has been less rigid. From my perspective, it would seem he needs the talking-to.”
“You’re serious?” Jill demanded, the question and her raised eyebrow disbelieving.
“When was the last time I told a joke, out of curiosity?”
“And what am I supposed to tell him? That the next time Sync throws a punch, he should just throw one back?”
“It makes the situation more fair on his end. You should be glad of that.”
She sat up straight and rounded on him, all but bristling. “I’m not encouraging my kids to fight - let alone against each other!”
“Sometimes the best solution is to throw them into the water and let them discover how to swim on their own.”
“And if they drown in the process,” said Jill flatly, “then that’s just natural selection at work, right?”
“So you are learning. You make me proud.”
Agitated, Jill caught the laptop’s screen, slammed it down to click the computer shut, and then put her weight on her hand as she leaned boldly forward and over Wesker’s lap to stare him down, her blue eyes smoldering inches from his. “I told you: we’re not. Animals. You may not care about them beyond what they can do for you, but I do and I have a Goddamn say in this.”
There was unmistakable annoyance in Wesker’s border-stoic expression, but Jill didn’t back down. “If Luke wanted to fight back, he wouldn’t wait for my permission - what?” she snapped, catching the amused thinning of Wesker’s gaze.
“Is that so? You sound as though you have confidence in his odds against Sync.”
Jill stared. “Of course I do.” A slight, cold smirk on his end made her scowl. “Don’t judge him-” Her breath and words caught as Wesker instantly seized her throat in one hand. Not squeezing, but enough to be uncomfortable and hold her in place when she tried to pull back.
“Don’t,” he said smoothly, jerking her down a couple inches, “forget your place, Jill.” His voice was quiet, testy. A warning. “What authority you possess is by the generosity of mine - you would do best not to delude yourself thinking otherwise.”
He pulled a little more, a little harder, until she was struggling to look up at him. Braced on her hands and knees, Jill fought to keep her arms locked and not go any lower. The thin line that was Wesker’s mouth curled some as his eyes swept over her features, studying them in detail from the edge of her hairline to her lips. She could almost feel his hackles receding a bit. “Ah,” he observed, sounding as close to cheerful as he ever came, “it’s been quite a while since I saw that face. I’d almost forgotten how charming you look when fighting a losing battle.” More pressure - Jill winced as her left elbow was tempted to bend, the heel of her hand gone numb. Wesker’s free hand idly brushed her bangs from her eyes while she couldn’t resist.
“That was one aspect I preferred about the viral supplier,” he recalled, nostalgic: “watching you struggle like the little survivor you insist on being, only to lose every single time.” His fingers tightened. “And yet I was generous enough to remove it at your request… perhaps I was too kindhearted.” Jill saved her breath and said nothing. The device had been taken off only after he’d exhausted and abused her into a half-bargain: he would remove it, but in exchange she wouldn’t resist any administrations thereafter. The P30 usage would continue; she just didn’t have to have a machine wired into her body as long as she behaved.
“Come to think of it,” he went on, “after all this time, Luke would benefit from a stricter discipline. I wonder why I never thought to test your mothering skills under P30.” His thumb moved to lie directly against her windpipe. “A few months of that should whip him into shape - don’t you agree?”
Liar.
He was lying, trying to scare her-
When Jill’s glare remained her only answer, Wesker looked vaguely (falsely) surprised. “You don’t believe me? I have nothing to lose either way; the boy is deadweight property as far as I’m concerned. His potential can only improve at this-”
“Luke,” Jill hissed sharply, every muscle tensed, “stopped being your laboratory doll the day you handed him to me, you son of a bit-”
She didn’t make a sound when he struck her, despite the blow being faster than she could see coming. She grasped the mattress edge and caught herself, her left cheek stinging as she tried to stop reeling.
“A poor argument,” Wesker told her, unmoved, “and a little hypocritical. You may treat him like your own and say you love him, but I wonder…” His eyes flashed briefly, matching his sharp smirk to say he knew just where to dig his metaphorical heel. “It’s only human nature to crave attention and affection after being starved of them. Are you certain he’s anything more than a doll to you in the end?”
“Shut up,” she snapped. “Just because you can’t-”
“Child after child, each one nearly as apathetic towards you as the last,” Wesker continued, talking over her and not sounding even the slightest bit sympathetic. “And then he comes along, a blank and ignorant slate untainted by the trials of the world, and you latch onto him for the same reason he does to you: you need him. A dysfunctional symbiosis, but a perfect match all the same.”
No. No, that wasn’t-
“You may see your needs as more humane, Jill, but the boy’s no freer under your guidance than he would be under mine.”
Jill’s voice was quieter, but it teemed with controlled rage. “Only you would compare love to slavery.”
She wanted to kill him, but that was nothing new. She wanted to drive a fist into that arrogant face and then kick him while he was down - God help her, she would beat him to death with nothing but her hands if it were within her power-
“Psychological politics,” he said dismissively, still smiling pleasantly. “The likes of which you and I will get nowhere discussing.”
Taking that as an opportunity - not permission, she stubbornly assured herself - to stand, Jill did so. Arguing was pointless. He’d believe what he wanted to and she doubted he had the capacity to comprehend affection as anything other than idiotic, anyway. Worse, he wasn’t going to do a damn thing about Sync. That decided, Jill had no further business with him.
She made for the door without a word, but slowly, not about to rush out in a troubled huff. She couldn’t quite leave the confrontation at that, though, so she hesitated with a hand on the knob.
“…You can only brainwash and bully them for so long,” she said without turning. “One of them is going to rebel someday.” It wasn’t a threat - there was no smugness or satisfaction in the statement. If anything, it was sadness; just a hint of it. Haine had had his outbursts against Wesker, but those were in the heat of the moment, nothing solidly definitive. Yet. As old as all the children were now, it was only a matter of time until boundaries were crossed.
“Perhaps,” Wesker agreed. “Are you prepared to lose that one if such a time comes?”
Jill glared over her shoulder. “You think I’ll still stand beside you then?”
“Considering you’ve never genuinely stood ‘beside’ me of your own free will, one would think not. But you’re painfully predictable, Jill - you choose the path of lesser evil and more lives saved. I know just as well as you do why you’re truly here. You may be a mother, but you were a soldier first - one of my soldiers, more importantly. I know exactly how you think.”
She held his gaze defiantly, but no argument came.
Are you prepared to lose that one?
Wesker would never kill them - of that much she was certain, as long as he desired this tentative peace and relative cooperation between his wife and himself. But losing someone could have so many different meanings - sometimes in ways that would make death a mercy, as Jill was very well aware.
“If you know how I think,” she said calmly, “then you should know better than to try and screw with my head about things you don’t understand.” Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly in the instant before she turned back to the door. “Don’t act like you can even begin to imagine what my son means to me.” She left the room without another look, closing the door behind her.
As Jill went down the hall, she finally rubbed at her raw cheek, trying to work the lingering sting out of it - and wishing, not for the first time, that she had someone she could just go bury herself under the sheets with and hold onto, forgetting her troubles for a few hours in welcome company that wouldn’t expect anything of her, wouldn’t judge her, wouldn’t even necessarily say anything to her, but would just let her be and give her a presence to consult and confide in if she found words necessary.
Instead, as always, Jill returned to her empty room and cold bed, and took a long time to finally get to sleep.
Fandom: Resident Evil/Tales of the Abyss; hints of DOGS, X-Men, D.Gray-Man, and Sin City
Pairings: NONE. See disclaimer on previous crackfic for details.
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, general, crack, some drama
Word count: 3,995
Spoilers: For RE1; vague references to RE5.
Summary: A follow-up to Child Mine and based originally on this crack RP post, Jill confronts Wesker about Sync's behavior.
It was midnight by the time Jill finally had a spare moment. After ensuring all the kids were in bed - a habit she kept despite knowing that Miho had it under control - she quickly changed into her sleeveless pajamas and made her way towards the last bedroom at the head of the hall, letting her hair down as she went. As expected, the door was closed but light was visible along the bottom crack. It was still early as far as work-to-be-done was concerned.
She knocked twice without hesitating, and then waited for the permissive “Enter” before stepping inside.
Now that they no longer shared it, the room was blandly plain, undecorated except for basic furnishing. It looked and felt more like a hotel room, the desk and bedside table stacked with his current research material and bearing the only personal touch. Wesker himself was sitting in bed, also dressed for sleep but occupied with a laptop in front of him. He didn’t look up as Jill entered.
“Have a minute?” she asked. Her voice was entirely neutral and cool: she came in peace this time, if that wasn’t already obvious from the respect she was showing him. About a minute went by in which Wesker didn’t respond, the swift tap of keys the only sound in the room. Patient and knowing him, Jill remained where she was and waited; finally, she was rewarded with a glance in her direction.
“For you, dear? Always.”
Ignoring the underlying sarcasm, Jill moved around the bed to the opposite side - her side, once - and made the casual, trusting gesture of sitting beside him. The mattress was large enough that they weren’t immediately side-by-side, but she was still within arm’s reach and much closer than she generally preferred to be. Maybe because of this display, Wesker openly turned his attention to her with a slight movement.
“I need you to talk to Sync,” she began bluntly.
“This is about Luke, I presume.”
“You were watching?” There was no surprise or annoyance to Jill’s question. She didn’t expect anything less than having private conversations monitored.
“I saw the bruises,” Wesker corrected as he looked back to the computer. “Sync leaves a distinct signature.” There was no emotion there - no concern, nothing.
“…Yes, it’s about Luke.” Neither Jill nor the stare she’d fixed on her husband budged. “He came to me the other day,” she went on, gentler as she recalled the talk, “upset over some things Sync said to him.”
“I imagine you handled it well.”
“As well as I could.” Jill’s voice and gaze hardened. “Why does Sync know about Luke’s trigger phrase?”
“Does he?” A slight hint of fake, deadpan surprise. “I suppose I should watch my words from now on.”
“Wesker!” she snapped. “I’m serious - Luke is-” She paused, gathering herself, and then momentarily sighed. “…He’s fragile,” she explained. “He’s not weak, but you know what a toll the whole thing with Asch took on him. He’s… still recovering. His self-esteem hangs by a thread sometimes - the last thing he needs is his brother telling him that their father’s going to use him to blow up a city.”
Wesker raised an eyebrow. “It isn’t like Sync to lie,” he mused. “Perhaps he’s not as tactical as I initially thought.”
“My point is,” Jill continued firmly, “Sync does this deliberately. He’ll lash out at anyone he can, and while most of us know how to deal with it, it’s a hell of a lot more detrimental to Luke. Sync knows it - that’s why he goes all out against him.”
“Jill-” Slowly, Wesker reached up to remove his glasses, and Jill didn’t flinch when his bright red gaze met hers. “I know it is in your nature to mean well, but tell me - if, ten years from now, Luke is still recovering, as you say, will you insist on sheltering him and fighting his battles then, also?”
“In ten years, he’ll be an adult,” she countered steadfastly. “And then, only technically. But right now he’s still a child who needs to be nurtured and protected, not dodging emotional abuse every time I turn my back!”
“Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps he has been nurtured and protected too much?” Wesker proposed suddenly.
Jill faltered, visibly taken aback. She’d been accused of spoiling him before, but- “That just maybe your insistence on putting yourself in front of him has only left him more vulnerable when you are not around to save the day?” Wesker pressed, and Jill, uncomfortable, broke eye contact.
She shouldn’t have been surprised. Wesker had always known her insecurities and just how to prey on them, never shy about reaching in and ripping them out. This one, though… The same thought had troubled her a couple times lately, particularly since her talk with Luke.
“…Yes,” she admitted more calmly. Her eyes remained fixed on the bed, but the look was distracted. “I’ve considered that.”
“And yet your habits continue.”
“Why shouldn’t they?” She turned to him. “We’re not animals, Wesker. We don’t - raise our offspring and then just abandon them when the time’s right-”
“Who suggested abandonment? There is a difference between throwing them into the street and making them emotionally dependent.” Then, thoughtfully, “They are likely to survive longer in the former case.”
Jill frowned. “Luke’s not dependent. He’s just not as independent as you consider necessary.”
“And yet, when faced with unsettling truths from an embittered younger child, he found it necessary at his technical age of seventeen to retreat to his doting mother for emotional stability,” Wesker pointed out matter-of-factly, typing once more on the laptop. Jill’s voice caught in her throat as she withheld a retort, but her eyes narrowed and her tone was terse all the same.
“Sync told him that you would throw him away without thinking twice. Worse, that you would use him as a weapon. He also found it necessary to break it to him that you and I don’t love each other.”
“As I said, Sync does not lie,” said Wesker, unperturbed. At a look, he added simply, “He speculates more often than necessary, of course. And don’t give me that look, Jill - what I would and will do are entirely separate.”
Shaking her head, disgusted, she ran a hand through her hair. “Those aren’t things Luke needs to hear.”
“The truth, you mean.”
“The truth that you and I can hardly stand one another? That truth? Yes,” she said stubbornly. “I hate lying to them, but you make it hard enough when you don’t even pretend to give a damn.”
In one of those rare moments of undivided attention, Wesker turned to her skeptically. “I am curious as to how you mended that one - I have difficulty picturing your painting our relationship as heartfelt.”
“I managed something,” Jill replied stiffly.
There was a brief pause between them, the key-tapping taking up the silence again. “There are just some things people are better off not knowing. Not before they’re ready,” she added. It wasn’t even necessary to say - she felt no need to defend her choices from him and Wesker couldn’t care less what she did, really. All the same, it came out, and she went on before he could interrupt. “I’ve raised Luke like I have because I didn’t want him to end up like the others before him.”
“Strong.”
“No, like you.”
“Strong,” Wesker repeated in the same tone, now with a dubious glance.
“Distant, emotionally stunted, and incapable of sympathy,” Jill corrected brusquely. “Haine’s better about it and Nill doesn’t have it in her, but they’re both still…” She trailed off; her gaze drifted aside. “I treat Luke like I believe any decent human should be treated. He’s just one of the few who’s accepted it. If that’s made things more difficult for him in the long run, then I was wrong in some aspects. But I don’t regret raising him as a person. I know he’ll pull through for that very reason.”
More words Wesker didn’t care about, but he watched her blankly towards the end of her explanation. Jill met the look readily and confidently - and a little more openly than usual. “Of all the things that separate us in opinion, Jill, I find your belief in human nature to be one of the most obvious, if not the most puzzling,” he told her coolly. “Despite your past and present circumstances, you stubbornly cling to the idea of the best in people. Is this a conscious denial or are you even capable of not believing it?”
Jill regarded him, equally neutral. “You say it like human nature is a concept.”
“It is, partially.”
“Which is why you don’t believe in people,” she deduced. It wasn’t a question.
“Again, partially. Judgment is the dividing line between you and I - you believe the population is better off learning from its mistakes.”
Jill’s tone flat-lined, an icy edge to her words. “Whereas you think free will is too much trouble, and that the world should just bow down and take your word for everything.”
A cold kind of smile pulled at the corner of Wesker’s mouth; the narrow slits of his eyes seemed to thin slightly. “Is it truly as evil as you make it sound?”
Jill didn’t even see his hand move - suddenly the backs of his fingers stroked her throat, slow and deliberate down to her collarbone as he spoke again. “You personally have seen firsthand just what I can do for this decaying world. You have been a fraction of it.” His voice was… not gentle, but there was an almost soft command to his words - potentially mesmerizing to those more ignorant than Jill.
The contact irritated her, but it wasn’t even reflex to try and knock him away anymore - anyone else, yes, just not him. Such was her life. She watched his face, holding her tongue and only just tolerating the possessive touch.
Wesker’s eyes fell lower. A second later his motions followed, his fingers brushing over her chest - specifically seeking the scars visible above her low neckline. She inhaled sharply but silently as his fingertips found the faded pinpricks, her pale chest rising against his palm. He hadn’t used the administration device in years, preferring direct doses when giving her the virus these days, but the marks were permanent all the same.
“Can you honestly tell me our degenerating race does not require guidance?” he asked, but in a manner that indicated it was rhetorical. “Or that the strongest of our children aren’t the next step?” He pressed more firmly against her scars, making his touch felt. “Can you even attest with full conviction that you despise being what I’ve made you? Stronger, faster, better. Almost on the same level as myself, even, and you know perfectly well that I have shown no other human being such attention.”
His hard eyes met hers as his thumb grazed the beginning curve of her breast. “Are you entirely certain you are as opposed to being under my control as much as you claim?”
With impressive speed in its own right, Jill’s hand snapped up to catch his, firm and a little rough, and he allowed her to push it away. Her expression - cold and hard compared to the blank regard moments before - remained fixed, and she didn’t back down from his piercing stare.
She let that act as her answer.
The following silence was stiff. Wesker, still easygoing and cool, broke off their staring match with a shadow of a smirk. That quiet, almost seductive air about him, the attempt at entrancement that had come with it, disappeared in a blink as he returned to his work. Jill leaned back against the headboard, feeling suddenly tired.
“That’s really why you made them like you did?” she asked at length, staring at the opposite wall. “You tried to kill their emotions and weaponize them for the sake of…” She stopped there. She knew the answer. “Congratulations,” she told him bitterly. “You accomplished that much.”
Wesker’s tone turned a shade of patronizing. “Don’t let your temper color me, Jill. I daresay you know my reasoning better than anyone. I did not intentionally condition Sync to hate himself - no more than you intentionally raised Luke to be so sensitive. Parenting is something we learn as we go - you and I are discovering that firsthand.”
The way he said it - his voice, his attitude, his casual demeanor, all of it reflected that of a normal man discussing the simple, typical habits of his healthy children, as if Sync’s self-loathing were the equivalent of a toddler who didn’t know how to share properly.
As for his reasoning - Jill knew his reasoning, the same reasoning that underlined everything he did: usefulness. Potential. Power. Twisting and working anything and anyone to his benefit. And then there was his narrow-minded idea of “perfection”…
Did he even know, she wondered, the real cost of his standards? Did he know about Laura’s nervous tics, the things she did to herself because she didn’t know how to confront her emotions? How Kanda’s mind was programmed so tightly on practicality that plain things like emotion weren’t just disregarded, but never even learned in the first place? Had Wesker, years ago, known about the nights that Haine had woken up thrashing from his nightmares, and all Jill had done was try to soothe him with her voice because the boy wouldn’t - couldn’t - let her hold him?
Did Wesker even know Jill’s deepest fears? Not the obvious ones he played with to keep a leash on that collar, but the other, invisible scars that P30 had left - the fears that gripped her like few things could anymore, heart-stopping moments that occasionally brought tears to her eyes when she was jerked awake on lonely nights. Her humanity was one thing she’d always been so sure was safe through all that she went through - but Wesker was effective in chipping away at it.
Even if he did know, Jill was aware it wouldn’t have made a difference. Not positively, at least, in her case.
She brought her legs up towards her body, arms looped loosely around her knees. “Learning or not, I could use some of your parenting now.” Her tone was level again. “Just talk to Sync. He won’t listen to me.”
Tap, tap, tap.
“Sync behaves as he only knows how,” Wesker replied. “Honestly, he falls within the limits of correctional discipline in the past. Luke, on the other hand-” He tilted his head just slightly. “Well. His upbringing has been less rigid. From my perspective, it would seem he needs the talking-to.”
“You’re serious?” Jill demanded, the question and her raised eyebrow disbelieving.
“When was the last time I told a joke, out of curiosity?”
“And what am I supposed to tell him? That the next time Sync throws a punch, he should just throw one back?”
“It makes the situation more fair on his end. You should be glad of that.”
She sat up straight and rounded on him, all but bristling. “I’m not encouraging my kids to fight - let alone against each other!”
“Sometimes the best solution is to throw them into the water and let them discover how to swim on their own.”
“And if they drown in the process,” said Jill flatly, “then that’s just natural selection at work, right?”
“So you are learning. You make me proud.”
Agitated, Jill caught the laptop’s screen, slammed it down to click the computer shut, and then put her weight on her hand as she leaned boldly forward and over Wesker’s lap to stare him down, her blue eyes smoldering inches from his. “I told you: we’re not. Animals. You may not care about them beyond what they can do for you, but I do and I have a Goddamn say in this.”
There was unmistakable annoyance in Wesker’s border-stoic expression, but Jill didn’t back down. “If Luke wanted to fight back, he wouldn’t wait for my permission - what?” she snapped, catching the amused thinning of Wesker’s gaze.
“Is that so? You sound as though you have confidence in his odds against Sync.”
Jill stared. “Of course I do.” A slight, cold smirk on his end made her scowl. “Don’t judge him-” Her breath and words caught as Wesker instantly seized her throat in one hand. Not squeezing, but enough to be uncomfortable and hold her in place when she tried to pull back.
“Don’t,” he said smoothly, jerking her down a couple inches, “forget your place, Jill.” His voice was quiet, testy. A warning. “What authority you possess is by the generosity of mine - you would do best not to delude yourself thinking otherwise.”
He pulled a little more, a little harder, until she was struggling to look up at him. Braced on her hands and knees, Jill fought to keep her arms locked and not go any lower. The thin line that was Wesker’s mouth curled some as his eyes swept over her features, studying them in detail from the edge of her hairline to her lips. She could almost feel his hackles receding a bit. “Ah,” he observed, sounding as close to cheerful as he ever came, “it’s been quite a while since I saw that face. I’d almost forgotten how charming you look when fighting a losing battle.” More pressure - Jill winced as her left elbow was tempted to bend, the heel of her hand gone numb. Wesker’s free hand idly brushed her bangs from her eyes while she couldn’t resist.
“That was one aspect I preferred about the viral supplier,” he recalled, nostalgic: “watching you struggle like the little survivor you insist on being, only to lose every single time.” His fingers tightened. “And yet I was generous enough to remove it at your request… perhaps I was too kindhearted.” Jill saved her breath and said nothing. The device had been taken off only after he’d exhausted and abused her into a half-bargain: he would remove it, but in exchange she wouldn’t resist any administrations thereafter. The P30 usage would continue; she just didn’t have to have a machine wired into her body as long as she behaved.
“Come to think of it,” he went on, “after all this time, Luke would benefit from a stricter discipline. I wonder why I never thought to test your mothering skills under P30.” His thumb moved to lie directly against her windpipe. “A few months of that should whip him into shape - don’t you agree?”
Liar.
He was lying, trying to scare her-
When Jill’s glare remained her only answer, Wesker looked vaguely (falsely) surprised. “You don’t believe me? I have nothing to lose either way; the boy is deadweight property as far as I’m concerned. His potential can only improve at this-”
“Luke,” Jill hissed sharply, every muscle tensed, “stopped being your laboratory doll the day you handed him to me, you son of a bit-”
She didn’t make a sound when he struck her, despite the blow being faster than she could see coming. She grasped the mattress edge and caught herself, her left cheek stinging as she tried to stop reeling.
“A poor argument,” Wesker told her, unmoved, “and a little hypocritical. You may treat him like your own and say you love him, but I wonder…” His eyes flashed briefly, matching his sharp smirk to say he knew just where to dig his metaphorical heel. “It’s only human nature to crave attention and affection after being starved of them. Are you certain he’s anything more than a doll to you in the end?”
“Shut up,” she snapped. “Just because you can’t-”
“Child after child, each one nearly as apathetic towards you as the last,” Wesker continued, talking over her and not sounding even the slightest bit sympathetic. “And then he comes along, a blank and ignorant slate untainted by the trials of the world, and you latch onto him for the same reason he does to you: you need him. A dysfunctional symbiosis, but a perfect match all the same.”
No. No, that wasn’t-
“You may see your needs as more humane, Jill, but the boy’s no freer under your guidance than he would be under mine.”
Jill’s voice was quieter, but it teemed with controlled rage. “Only you would compare love to slavery.”
She wanted to kill him, but that was nothing new. She wanted to drive a fist into that arrogant face and then kick him while he was down - God help her, she would beat him to death with nothing but her hands if it were within her power-
“Psychological politics,” he said dismissively, still smiling pleasantly. “The likes of which you and I will get nowhere discussing.”
Taking that as an opportunity - not permission, she stubbornly assured herself - to stand, Jill did so. Arguing was pointless. He’d believe what he wanted to and she doubted he had the capacity to comprehend affection as anything other than idiotic, anyway. Worse, he wasn’t going to do a damn thing about Sync. That decided, Jill had no further business with him.
She made for the door without a word, but slowly, not about to rush out in a troubled huff. She couldn’t quite leave the confrontation at that, though, so she hesitated with a hand on the knob.
“…You can only brainwash and bully them for so long,” she said without turning. “One of them is going to rebel someday.” It wasn’t a threat - there was no smugness or satisfaction in the statement. If anything, it was sadness; just a hint of it. Haine had had his outbursts against Wesker, but those were in the heat of the moment, nothing solidly definitive. Yet. As old as all the children were now, it was only a matter of time until boundaries were crossed.
“Perhaps,” Wesker agreed. “Are you prepared to lose that one if such a time comes?”
Jill glared over her shoulder. “You think I’ll still stand beside you then?”
“Considering you’ve never genuinely stood ‘beside’ me of your own free will, one would think not. But you’re painfully predictable, Jill - you choose the path of lesser evil and more lives saved. I know just as well as you do why you’re truly here. You may be a mother, but you were a soldier first - one of my soldiers, more importantly. I know exactly how you think.”
She held his gaze defiantly, but no argument came.
Are you prepared to lose that one?
Wesker would never kill them - of that much she was certain, as long as he desired this tentative peace and relative cooperation between his wife and himself. But losing someone could have so many different meanings - sometimes in ways that would make death a mercy, as Jill was very well aware.
“If you know how I think,” she said calmly, “then you should know better than to try and screw with my head about things you don’t understand.” Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly in the instant before she turned back to the door. “Don’t act like you can even begin to imagine what my son means to me.” She left the room without another look, closing the door behind her.
As Jill went down the hall, she finally rubbed at her raw cheek, trying to work the lingering sting out of it - and wishing, not for the first time, that she had someone she could just go bury herself under the sheets with and hold onto, forgetting her troubles for a few hours in welcome company that wouldn’t expect anything of her, wouldn’t judge her, wouldn’t even necessarily say anything to her, but would just let her be and give her a presence to consult and confide in if she found words necessary.
Instead, as always, Jill returned to her empty room and cold bed, and took a long time to finally get to sleep.