nimmy22

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 17

The needle was thin, aiding in keeping the pain to a minimum. Drawing the blue serum into the syringe, Wesker flicked the barrel with a finger, watching as the air bubbles rose to the surface before releasing them. Once satisfied with the dosage, he approached the sleeping girl tangled in the blankets. The serum was a gift from a particular scientist, possessing accelerated healing properties.

She was oblivious, eyes shifting beneath the lids as she dreamt. Gently Pushing the hair away from her neck, Wesker's eyes located the thumping beneath the skin before he injected the needle with precision. He kept steady pressure on the plunger until all the serum was in her bloodstream.

Cara woke to a pinprick on the side of her neck. The sting was brief and faded before she fully processed her surroundings. Rubbing her neck, she groaned, pushing herself up on her elbows. Blinking her sleepy eyes, she tried to adjust them to the darkened room only to be blinded by a bright light.

Wesker had thrown the curtains open, flooding the room with the bright afternoon light. "Get up. It's late in the afternoon. What a terrible waste of time."

"Do you ever sleep? I definitely wasn't the only one wandering the house late last night," Rolling her eyes, Cara glared at the intruder, using her hands to shield her eyes. She couldn't call him that, considering this is his house.

"Villains have no time for sleep."

"Glad you're self-aware," Cara giggled, looking him up and down. He looked especially fine today in a pair of black pants and turtleneck; hair slicked back neatly. She looked like a stray next to him.

"Self-reflection is an important step in the process of professional development," Wesker replied, bringing her crutches closer before making his way into the closet, combing through the racks. A specific piece in mind, he won't deny a slight excitement to seeing her in it.

"I guess that also includes professional cut-throats," Cara mumbled under her breath.

Remembering the sore spot on her neck, she narrowed her eyes at the man invading her space, “You didn't like...do something funny to me while I was sleeping, did you?" She spoke slowly, gauging his reaction. He frowned and paused what he was doing. It almost seemed like he was offended by the question.

"I consider myself a gentleman. Not one of the hormonal teenage boys you're surrounded by,” he said without turning around. "Hurting you is not on my agenda for the day,"

"I felt something sting me, and it woke me up," she explained, pulling the blankets away as she moved to the edge of the bed.

"Let me have a look,” With a sigh, Wesker walked towards her, the bed dipping as he sat beside her. He shifted the hair out of the way, his eyes scanning over her neck.

"Whoa there, mister. What are you doing?" Cara gasped as he leaned even closer. She shivered, feeling his quickened exhales on her skin. Brushing over her neck with his lips, Wesker laid a gentle kiss. She forgot the discomfort as a blush warmed its way up her neck and coloured her cheeks.

 "I see nothing there. Must've been a dream," Wesker whispered in her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth.

"...R-right... a dream" Licking her lips, she cleared her throat, eyes darting away as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She tried crawling up the bed, away from his reach, and of course, he followed. Pushing her flat on her back, he rested a knee between her legs, upper body hovering above her. She is caged.

"Do you not believe me, dearheart?" Cara gasped, feeling his cool fingers sliding up her shirt, grabbing her heated skin.

"Yes, yes....I... believe you," Cara stuttered as he ran his tongue over her lips. His hand reached up between them, squeezing her cheeks together as he planted a heavy kiss.

She turned her head away, and he continued kissing her cheek and then her neck. "I haven't brushed my teeth yet," Cara gasped, pushing against his chest.

"Why so shy," he teased, running his tongue over her exposed collarbone.

"My breath smells in the morning. It's super gross," Cara mumbled, covering her mouth with a hand.

"Does it now?" Another stolen kiss set loose a storm of butterflies in her belly that went berserk when his hand began stroking her inner thigh. Her heart drummed heavily as every part of her that he touched lit on fire. She gripped his flexing biceps to ground herself, drinking in his lips.

Then it all stopped, and he heaved himself up, heading back into the closet. Cara whined at the sudden loss of contact. Cold and shivering, she drew the blanket up, her lips in a pout.

"See, I'm not a hormonal teenage boy. I can control myself when needed." her mouth fell open, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. Bastard. Glaring at the back of his head, Cara worked to steady her breathing.

"What are you even looking for in there?" She called, trying to see over his shoulder from where she sat on the bed.

Wesker laid down a sundress on the bed. "Here, get dressed. I'm taking you out for brunch." Knee-length and a pale blue, the dress had not a single crease in the fabric, pressed to perfection. It wasn't like something she'd ever worn, but she was grateful for something that wouldn't get in the way of her cast or crutches.

"Thanks for asking. I could definitely eat... on your dime. Ok, off you go now," After making a shooing motion with her hand, Wesker left with a chuckle, pulling the door shut behind him.

Only once he left the room did she realize that she hadn't told him where she'd felt the sting. He'd already known because he did something to her and then left behind one hell of a distraction. Crafty bastard. She needed to be more careful around him. God knows what he's got up his sleeve. Thankfully, her body didn't feel any different, save for the hot frustration he left her in. 

Realizing she had been subconsciously touching her tingling lips, Cara slapped her hand away and picked up a pillow. She threw it at the closed door, exhaling through her teeth. How could he just leave her like this? Of all the times to have self-control, he just had to use it right now and then brag about it. Her eyes widened with realization, hands frozen on the dress. Would she have let him have everything if he hadn't stopped?

Fuck. Looks like self-control is yet another thing Cara sucks at. It isn't about just food anymore. She gotta work hard on keeping her hands off the boys and pizza.

Using her crutches, she made her way to the window, peering out at the unsuspecting neighbours mowing their lawns on a Saturday afternoon. They've no clue the kind of man living across the street, and if they ever started to suspect, she's sure Wesker would've done some cleaning if he hasn't already. This is, after all, his neighbourhood. His playground. And she was stuck in the centre of his webs.

Opening the window, Cara hoped the cool air would help her heated body before getting ready. The dress zipper barely closed before her stomach was rumbling its demands for food.

-----------------------

~Bon Appétit restaurant in uptown Raccoon City~

"Wow...a completely French menu. How nice," Cara grumbled, flipping through the menu to find any dish with a picture beside its name.

"I can find someone to teach you French. Knowing multiple languages can help pull you out of many situations."

"You turn everything into a tactical advantage, don't you," Cara rolled her eyes. Still, the words weren't going to read themselves.

"Would you like me to order for you?" Wesker asked as the waiter came by to take their orders.

"No, I got this. I'm smarter than I look," Cara winked before turning to the waiter who had just taken took Wesker's order.

The waiter's eyes caught her attention, a vibrant green. She had never seen anything like them on a person's face. So unnatural, almost like they didn't belong. She wondered if they were contacts to woo female customers into tipping more. That was very possible. Did Wesker usually give tips? Surely, he would want to keep up a good reputation wherever he went.

Wesker pushed his fork off the table with the side of his hand, watching it with feigned surprise as it clattered to the floor. "Let me get another fork for you, Monsieur Wesker," the waiter said, bending down to pick it up.

"Most appreciated. I have no idea how it fell," Wesker stared down at the waiter as he leaned down to pick up the utensil. His eyes shifted over to Cara, seeing her still taken by the eyes of the fool.

"Cara," Wesker's voice held a warning tone, drawing her startled gaze to him. He let nothing show on his face as his eyes watched the flush in her cheeks. "Let's not delay the young man from finishing his shift. After all, it is a weekend, and I'm sure he's got plans for the evening. If you need help, just ask."

Glimpsing the waiter's name tag, Wesker mentally added a task to his agenda. If Cara liked the boy's eyes, then he was obliged to collect the two gems for her to stare at all day without the lesser human attached to them.

"Right, sorry! I would like..." She attempted to read the dish's name, meeting the waiter's blank stare with a grimace. For a moment, they just stared at each other until he broke the silence with a strained smile.

"It will be ready for you, madam." He answered, jotting down her order on his small notepad before heading to the kitchens. She heaved a sigh; glad the awkward exchange was over.

"I wasn't sure if the language you spoke existed," Wesker chuckled, and Cara smacked his hand. Out of spite, she dropped his knife and spoon on the ground. Wesker's eyes did not leave hers as he reached down for the utensils.

"You're being dramatic. Even if I said it with an accent, he still understood what I wanted,"

"Only because of how hard your finger was jabbing the dish on the menu, you almost tore it up."

"Ok, I got already..." Cara slumped in her chair, tapping her water glass with a pout. She already felt a disdain for the language. Feeling his eyes on her, she raised an eyebrow. "Want to make fun of me some more?"

"Not at all," he relaxed in his chair, arms stretched behind his head.

"You're staring," she couldn't stop the warmth spreading through her chest remembering their earlier interaction.

"Am I?" His lips twitched into a smirk of sharp pearly whites. There was nothing on the menu compared to the feeling of sinking his teeth into her. What he'd done this morning was half to prove a point and the other to distract her. It took every last shred of control not to ruin her right then and there. The craving grew again.

Soon the food was placed in front of them, giving Cara a much-needed barrier, something to divert herself. Tearing her eyes from her mouth-watering pancakes, she narrowed her eyes at the chicken seated on a pile of green in front of him. No way this was all he was having.

Reaching with her fork, Cara snatched some of his salad before stuffing it into her mouth. "What the heck?" Her face fell, chewing slowly. No special seasoning, no magical French touch. "It tastes like a bunch of leaves. We went to a French restaurant so you could have a salad?"

"Its important to take care of oneself,"

"No cheats? A slice of pizza here or there? At least you got some chicken on there. I thought the greens were just a varnish,"

"I do enjoy my greens and routines, amongst other things,"

"Routines, huh? then what am I doing here?" Cara raised an eyebrow, snatching a piece of chicken. Her eyes followed his fluid movements as he cut his food with no signs of irritation over the stolen protein. The man could make any dish look good by simply eating it. She thought she was in the mood for breakfast pancakes, but now she wanted lunch.

"You are my companion for Saturday brunch of course. Now eat. Your body requires the high calories to heal,"

Cara wondered if one could consider this a....date? No way.

----------------

Later that Night

The wind flung sheets of rain at the window of the large house surrounded by the thick forest. Yet the downpour couldn't wash the blood soaking the inside of the window and the horror within.

Edward tried to crawl backwards on the already slick floor, trying to keep a distance from the two men dressed in plastic suits as they approached. He felt a warmness spreading down his legs as urine mixed with the blood seeping from his shattered knee. "No, please, I didn't tell them anything! I swear! I'm just a reporter. If you want me to back off, all you had to do was say so. I-"

The limp body of a woman was dropped by his feet. Once he registered who she was, he wailed, watching as his wife's eyes slid out of their socket, dangling by a thread of a muscle. Her head concaved in from the endless blows she suffered while alive.

"Oh god, Elaine!" He sobbed, grabbing her limp arms, and dragging her body towards him. His head snapped up as the sound of screaming children reached his ears.

"No, no, no! not my children. Please just tell me what I need to do, and I will do it. please, they're only children." Edward begged as he crawled to one of the intruders, clawing at his plastic-sheathed boots.

"Ahhhhhhh!" the father's screams joined the children's as his hand was crushed beneath a boot.

"Mr. Edward, you have nothing to worry about. We will not hurt the little ones." the intruder declared, staring down at the gasping man on the floor.

Edward breathed a sigh of relief, the thumping pain of his broken bones forgotten momentarily.

"The children will be taken care of at the orphanage,"

Chocking on his spit, Edward's eyes filled with horror. With a recharged sense of urgency, he grabbed at the intruder's plastic suit to haul himself up but was met with a sharp kick that sent his body sliding across the floor.

Just then, the front door flew open.

As a police officer came into view of the bloody scene. Edward saw a flicker of hope, pushing himself to crawl towards the officer. "Please help us! They murdered my wife!" He shouted with desperation.

The officer strolled through the bloody scene, and none of the intruders stopped or attacked him. "Are you sure that’s what happened?" the officer calmly asked, sliding his leather gloves on before grabbing his gun from its holster.

"What?" Edward arrested his crawling, face draining of whatever blood he still had.

"Are you sure it wasn't you who killed her? And the poor children saw it all happen. That's bound to leave some unresolved trauma for them. But don't worry. We will make sure they get psychiatric counselling at the orphanage," kneeling beside him, the officer's kind smile didn't reach the viciousness swirling in his icy blues eyes.

Latching onto the STARS vest, Edward struggled to breathe as reality came crashing down. "You're with them..."

"I don't know what you mean. We are the only ones in the house. Your wife called the police for help after you attacked her. They responded to the call too late. She was brutally murdered by her own husband. I had to shoot him in a stand-off to protect the children only to find out they ran away. Nobody knows what happened to them. Sounds good?"

"Fuck you," Edward spat, clenching his teeth. "They will find out the truth sooner or later. Just you wait-" His body jerked as several shots hit him in the chest. With major vital organs pierced, he ceased all movements within seconds. Unshed tears still clinging to his blank eyes.

"Have a Good day, gentlemen. I will take from here," Wesker nodded at the men who soon exited the home, children dragged behind. Their stay at the orphanage won't be long before the Birkins get their hands on them. They can thank their father for what's to come. If he hadn't stuck his nose in Umbrella's business for a few bucks, he wouldn't have caused his whole family to die alongside him. What a waste. Wesker had enjoyed several articles written by him.

Radioing in the forged account, Wesker placed a gun into Edwards limb's hands before wrapping the fingers around it. Soon the rest of the stage was ready for the play to commence.

Today was a good day, Wesker hummed.

-----------------------

1 week later ~ Raccoon General Hospital

Strangely, Wesker took Cara to get the cast removed two weeks earlier than what her doctor had estimated. They were back at the Umbrella General Hospital but with a different doctor. This one seemed a bit sketchy as he took blood samples from her without explaining why. She thought she was overreacting because Wesker didn't question the doctor either.

"Like some special individuals in the population, you have a faster healing ability than most," the doctor explained as he cut into the cast, taking it apart as Wesker took a phone call in the corner of the room. He was talking about work, entirely ignoring the brewing storm in her mind. Oh, how convenient the timing of the call was.

Cara frowned, conflicted about what was happening. She was glad to no longer be in a cast. Still, at the same time, she never noticed the accelerated healing of any previous injury. The double agent working for a pharmaceutical company must've done something to her. Perhaps the employee benefits extended far beyond regular folks to include rapid healing drugs. That son of a bitch. Eyes burning into the back of his head, she picked up a piece of the broken cast and threw it at him.

Wesker dodged every piece with ease. The doctor gasped, all colour draining from his face as his hands froze. His wide eyes wearily glanced at Wesker, trying to read his reaction. Surely the girl would be dropped off at the lab for the disrespect she showed. Wesker continued talking on the phone, unfazed and unbothered. The girl must be special, he thought. Had it been anyone else, their ending would've been swift and messy. Feeling safer, he continued his work, sending the girl a warning look to which she stuck out her tongue.

[nimmy22]

‘Welcome to S.T.A.R.S. Mr Redfield! Now all that remains is to … sign your life away…’

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 16

“Read one more page of that book,” Cara’s face fell as she gave a tortured glance at the book Wesker had given her.

“What makes you think I haven’t finished it already?”

“Then you would’ve seen the other notes I left.”

Wesker had only just shut the door to the hospital room before Cara was already searching the book. She shook it, expecting the hidden notes to fall to her lap. Much to her disappointment, they didn't. She flipped through several times, looking for any written words bordering the text but found nothing. Wesker must've concealed them within the text. So much for the easy way. Why did he have to be so difficult? It's not like his 'advice' was going to end wars or cure cancer. Maybe it could, but she was too impatient for the logical words on those pages.

"Alright, keep your secrets," Cara huffed, shutting the book before stuffing it beneath her pillow. Maybe she might absorb some of the wisdom as she napped on it. Probably not.

----------------------------

Two weeks later ~ Raccoon General Hospital.

After another lap around the unit, Cara collapsed on a vacant wheelchair to catch her breath. "Why is this so much harder than it looks," she groaned, laying the crutches against the wall. She rested her casted leg on the footrest and messaged her arms.

It had been a month since she was admitted to the hospital, and there had been significant healing, but her leg was still in a cast. As soon as her arm was freed, she had asked for crutches, wanting some of her independence back. Initially, getting pushed around on a wheelchair had been fun, but the little enjoyment fizzled out once she realized she had become dependent on others for mobility. She didn't like the helplessness. It reminded her of things she didn't want to think about. The nightmares kept her up more than enough, forcing her to relive being trapped in a metal box spinning out of control in endless agony.

Cara should've felt excited about leaving the hospital and never again having to taste such goop for food or lose all privacy. Yet, she barely offered the doctor a smile when he told her she would be soon discharged. Of course, she was glad to leave, but the destination made her palms clammy.

She was going home with Wesker. There was no way to dispute the decision unless she wanted to place two very good friends under Wesker's radar. Claire had already eaten enough danger, and Chris only deserved a promotion.

It was a massive change for her aside from the obvious events. Sure, she had stayed in his home for a day or two, but this was a more permanent arrangement. How will she not make this weird? They were very different people, with her being more of a Piggly peasant. What if she accidentally exposes him as an undercover agent for Umbrella?

The wait was tense and restless, but the looming discharge day had come quicker than she was ready for. She was now walking beside Wesker in the hospital parking lot towards his car.

Seeing the cars had her pulse quickening, and the hesitation in her steps only grew wider behind Wesker. She tried to keep her eyes on her feet, focusing on the swing of the crutches. This didn't help much with the looming sense of doom coming from every direction. She felt surrounded, and any one of those cars could mean a death trap.

Once they reached his car, Cara stood frozen, rooted to the spot with cold sweat trickling down her pale skin as Wesker loaded her stuff into the trunk.

It was just a car.

But She felt as though she would die inside. These past few weeks, she couldn't bear to look at the passing cars from her hospital room window, pleading with Wesker to get a room overlooking the inner garden square. No matter the model, color, or make, every car reminded her of that night.

It's just a fucking car. How many times has she been in a car? Especially this one. What has changed? She felt ashamed of how pathetic she'd become in such a short time.

Her mind drifted back to that night. Spinning out of control in the back of a van. Every part of her body smashed against the interior with no way to steady herself or to get out. She was supposed to die. Why hadn't she?

"Cara," Wesker called softly, noticing the dark turn to her expression as her mind drifted away. She didn't respond, lips quivering. Her fists clenched and unclenched as her cheeks glistened with tears. He wanted to protect her, but the human mind was a complex thing, its depth unfathomable. Sometimes time healed wounds better than words alone. More than anything, he wanted to wipe clean every bad memory, but that would unmake his little Cara.

A hand gently touched her shoulder, and she flinched, pulling her whole body away. She stared at Wesker with wide eyes, breathing heavily. Despite trying hard to school his expression, it darkened as he saw her hands raised in a defensive position and yearned to kill those men again.

"S-sorry," Cara mumbled, feeling her stomach drop, having reacted this way to someone who was only trying to help.

"I don't have to be anywhere else tonight. Take all the time you need," Wesker hugged her, slotting her against his body where she rested her cheek against his chest. It was just them in the hospital parking lot. He chose to pick her up late in the evening with fewer prying eyes, not that removing some eyeballs was challenging. It was that he wanted Cara to have some privacy.

"I know it's just a car, but I can't help it. I keep remembering, feeling it all over again," her shivered,

"These are memories of the past. Focus on what you're doing, seeing, and feeling right now. And right now, there is a car taking you home which is a very safe convertible with a not-so-bad driver."

He pushed a button on the key fob, and the roof opened, exposing the black leather seats. "I know it will likely not eliminate your anxiety entirely but could help even in the smallest amount to have an opening above you. An exit."

"Thank you,"

Holding the passenger door open, Wesker turned to her, producing a prefilled needle from his pocket. "The alternative is sedation on the drive back,"

"Great alternatives," Cara laughed without humor, poking a nearby puddle with the tip of her crutches. Taking a shaky breath, she slid into the passenger seat, grabbing onto the dashboard as if expecting the car to lurch and roll. Time seemed to slow down as an uncontrollable shudder ravaged her body as the bile burned its way up her throat.

"Breath," Wesker's stern voice dragged her mind out of the rapid currents.

"I am!" Cara sobbed, scrambling to get out, but Wesker held her down. He forced her head to look up at the night sky, but she shut her eyes and refused to look.

"Open your eyes,"

"W-why?"

"Open them, Cara. What do you see?" opening her eyes slowly, she blinked the burry tears out of the way. The black sky looked down on her pathetic self.

"T-the sky," Cara licked her lips, swallowing the thickness in her throat.

"What are you sitting on,"

"The passenger seat,"

"No, you are not. you are sitting on a chair in the backyard looking at the sky,"

"Where are you going with this Wesker?"

"Visualize it,"

"But-"

"Where are you?"

".... sitting in a chair in the backyard looking at the sky," He let go of her, feeling her breathing become steadier with the successful distraction.

"What does it smell like?"

"Like fresh rain," Slowly, her hands left the dashboard, falling to her lap.

"Who is in the chair beside you?"

"A shady cop,"

"Good girl, picture this as many times as you need whenever those flashbacks come. Stay in the now. If you can bike, do that. If you can get a ride on Claire's bike, do that as well. Find your new comfort zone." Wiping away the tears on her cheeks with his thumb, he buckled her seat belt before making his way to the driver's seat and starting the car. Soon they were pulling out of the parking lot.

The imagery was silly, but it helped her relax for the moment. She was beyond grateful, even as the car remained without its roof in the light drizzle of rain that began falling on them. The feeling of being trapped had subsided for the moment thanks to the vast openness above, but she knew it would rear its ugly head soon enough. For now, she would enjoy the wet wind hitting her face and the fresh scent of rain.

When Cara's eyes weren't closed, she would watch the tiny droplets of rain clinging to Wesker's hair, dissolving the hair jell and separating the strands. She found it hard not to stare at the older man with his uniform sleeves rolled up, one hand on the steering wheel.

"You seem to like what you see," Wesker smirked, eyes still on the road.

Reaching over, Cara ran her fingers into his hair, further messing up the strands. "You could change your mind, you know. It's not too late to let me go with Chris and Claire."

"No,"

"Why would you want to be rooming with a freeloader?"

"Even if the accumulation of interest is particularly low, you are an investment, and I have a special use for you,"

"Wow, something I can do that you can't find anyone else for? I feel so honored to be of use, Captain. So, what do you need me for?"

"I'll tell you one day,"

"Can it be today?"

"Afraid not,"

"What about five minutes from now?"

"Patience is an important survival skill."

Rolling her eyes, Cara slumped in her seat and glared at him.

"Aren’t you nervous? You weren't sharing your home before, and now you suddenly are. I can't shake the feeling that this is a bad decision,"

"I had your room painted aqua blue. From what I've observed, you seem to have a fondness for the color, and if not, I can have it repainted. You can hang posters or redecorate if you like,"

Cara's eyes widened, realizing that he had allowed the first bit of bold color to his otherwise bland, impersonal home. And he was open to more.

"Not to sound ungrateful, but you didn't have to change anything. I'm fine with a bed and a roof over my head,"

"Don't hold onto minor details. It had been quite the wait to bring you back. This is where you should be,"

She felt a flutter in her stomach, her body growing warmer. Leaning towards him, Cara giggled, "Was someone a little excited?"

"I hate not having my assets ready for use,"

"Right," Cara's smile remained as she closed her eyes and rested her head back, feeling his eyes on her.

---------------------------

A few hours later…

Wesker's Home 4 AM

She'd laid in her room for hours, tossing and turning without end. Sleep was kissed goodbye after a nightmare, and she was left watching the hours slip by. She couldn't stand it anymore. Throwing the blanket off her body, she grabbed her crutches and made her way downstairs. Careful with the sound as she walked by Wesker's closed bedroom door. She made it downstairs successfully, silent. It was too easy, and before she could pat herself on the back, she tripped in the living room.

One of her crutches caught in the leg of a couch, and she did her best to fall quietly. Her body hit the ground with a muffled thud, but the crushes held a concert, bouncing several times against the hardwood floors. She held her breath and waited for the rush of footsteps to come down the staircase but heard nothing. Sighing in relief, she reached to grab her crutches.

"Having trouble with the crutches? I was sure the height was correct for you. Need me to take a look?" Her soul left her body as Wesker spoke from where he stood above her, having made no sound in his approach.

"Where did you even come from? I didn't hear you come down. That's so creepy," Cara said, holding her hand over her thundering heart. On their way up to his face, her eyes had strayed too long where they shouldn't have, coloring her cheeks crimson. Just when she thought her heart couldn't go any faster, it proved her wrong. She scrambled to stand up, but Wesker stepped on one of her crutches, pinning it to the floor.

"I was already awake, working on something in my office. Need me to take a look at them?"

"It was dark, and no, the crutches are fine. Sometimes failure comes from a person rather than a piece of equipment."

"Are you admitting to your incompetence at using a very simple ambulation device? We can always go back to the wheelchair. "

"Or I just avoid using them in the dark. Can you move your foot?"

"You don't look too bad from up here,"

"I guess a sadist like you would love that look of suffering on your victim's faces, right after some backstabbing."

"You have no idea," his eyes gleamed with a dark, vicious glint, but his hands were gentle as they reached beneath her arms to pull her up.

Helping her stand again, he tucked the crutches beneath her arms as she stood still, immersed in his closeness. She knew she should take a step back, but her body didn't want to, nor did her mind.

He slotted her against him, tucking her head beneath his chin, arms wrapping around her. His hand made its way to the small of her back, drawing circles where her shirt had ridden up.

"Where were you off to?" his chest vibrated against her cheek as he spoke.

"I-I was just heading to the...kitchen," Cara squeaked, and he hummed as more of his hand disappeared beneath her shirt.

"Want me to cook you something?"

"Oh no, that’s fine. I've already interrupted your work. I can do this on my own," Cara pulled back, and he reluctantly let her go, watching her walk to the kitchen.

"Alright, come and ask me if you can't find what you need," She thought he would leave after this, but he didn't, quietly watching her as he leaned against the door to the kitchen. She tried to ignore him as she took out a cucumber from the fridge and began chopping on a cutting board.

The watching was too much for her, causing each slice of a cucumber to be a different thickness. "Is something wrong?" she mumbled, eyeing his reflection on her knife.

"Just admiring my kitchen with its newest addition, it never looked so appetizing,"

Catching whatever cucumber slices were thrown his way, Wesker devoured them without taking his eyes off Cara.

[nimmy22]

My thoughts on Welcome to Raccoon City

No spoilers

I don't think they did any characters justice especially Wesker but the smile never left my face watching that movie (hence its sore now). It was a pleasant bubble of happiness and I think I'll sleep like a baby thinking of my favorite people. Amazing twists, and turns, something I would defiantly rewatch X3 if it passed by Netflix ever.

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 15

"Can I ask you a question?" Chris was cautious with his question, unsure whether his Captain was playing with him.

"Um?" Cara answered without looking up.

"Wesker..." The name was said with much contempt, but it caught her attention, and she paused her munching. "Wesker told me he was your...godfather?"

She choked, eyes bulging out of her sockets.

"That made zero sense to me, so I tried to contact your parents. But no one has seen them for over a month, and there is an eviction notice on your apartment door. What the hell is going on?"

Cara was at a loss for words. Forcing down a hard, obvious swallow. She couldn't still her racing mind, fueling the urge to flee. While the door was but a few meters away, she couldn't dream of running, let alone limping on her broken leg wrapped in a cast. She was cornered, and there was no way out. Should she pretend to pass out? But that would have the nurses fussing over her considering she had suffered head trauma during the crash.

She cursed Wesker for this predicament. What else did he tell Chris? What if whatever story she conjures up doesn't add up with his? If she messes things up, he shouldn't have the right to blame her for adding a second shovel to the hole he created. Now they were in deep shit, and the only way was straight down.

Why the hell would he do this? This could very well hurt them both, more so him because of his status. His career could single-handedly be destroyed if anyone suspected anything going on between a highly decorated police officer and a girl who doesn't even have a driver's license, let alone out of high school. Sure her 18th birthday was in two months. Still, everyone will focus on their past interactions, especially those who would love nothing more than to trash a highly esteemed man vying for his position as S.T.A.R.S. captain.

Taking a deep but shaky breath, she forced herself to speak. "Look Chris, it's a long story, and I don't feel like getting into it right now."

Cara laid back against the pillows, groaning as she pulled the blankets higher, letting her arm in the cast more visible to Chris. Some of her groaning wasn't fake as she genuinely felt like shit. She knew she looked a pathetic mess but was it enough to divert Chris? Of course not. The man only came closer, offering her a pitying grimace.

"I know you've been through a lot. But by no means is this news a small thing. It's huge, and I'm not buying it. Captain Wesker doesn't make friends, especially...with a person having a record like your dad's. I'm sorry if it offends you, but the captain is careful, calculative, and a perfectionist. No one is good enough for him, not even his own team. I just want to know how and why this happened. Claire and I just want to look out for you. You don't need to tell me yourself. Just point me to someone who can. Maybe your mom or dad might be able to explain this. where can I reach them?"

"They're out of town," Cara stated, turning to look out the window. Suddenly the grey bricks of the next building looked much more interesting than the man hovering over her with furrowed brows. Her heart was racing as her fingers clutched the bedsheets beneath the blanket.

"Where, Cara?" he insisted, placing a hand on her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. Sweat glistened her forehead as the room seemed to soar in temperature despite the cool breeze coming through the window. The cast seems to shrink, putting an uncomfortable pressure over her limbs. She just wanted out.

"They...haven't exactly told me,"

"Cara, I'm not messing around here." Chris rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. "There is just no way they up and left their only kid to fend for herself." his tone was harsh as his patience wore thin.

"Our relationship isn't the homeliest."

"Cara, you're not in any trouble. Please just tell me."

"I am not lying." Cara stared at him, eyes unblinking. She held onto this secret for so long, and finally, someone else could share its burden. But why wouldn't he believe her? It's simple really. It's easy to leave behind what you don't love. Her situation was similar to people who abandon their pets when their newest residence doesn't allow them.

"Shit Cara, this is fucking serious. Why the hell didn't you file a missing persons report? Why did you continue as if nothing happened? You should've said something, dammit!" Chris paced back and forth, racking his fingers through his hair aggressively. He then stopped pacing and sighed heavily, fixing her with a no-bullshit look. "At least, tell me, when was the last time you saw them?"

"Around the same time everyone else stopped seeing them. A little over a month ago," her lips were so dry they split and bled as she whispered.

"Dammit, Cara! Any normal kid would've reported them within a day of being gone," Chris shouted, his eyes bulging. He sank into the chair by her bed, his mouth gaping.

"I told you, we were never on good terms. Not everyone can have perfect parents like you and Claire. The world just isn't fair." Cara snapped, breathing heavily.

"They're still your parents, and I'm sure they love you even if they hadn't shown it lately. There has to be a good reason for them disappearing. Maybe....there was foul play." she could see where he was coming from, as an accident had left the Redfield siblings as orphans. But at least he got to appreciate them before they were gone. She never had any good memories to look back on. Yet Here he was rubbing all those family values in her face. In her mind, she had long decided on an explanation for their disappearance. She was sticking to it regardless of what Chris would come to say.

"They enjoyed painting my body with bruises every fucking day! Their insults were never-ending background noise louder than the T.V. These past few weeks, except for the night of the party, have been some of my most peaceful. My parents had a lot of debt with no way of repaying any of it, so they left. They're not worth looking for. Maybe the best thing they ever did for me was dumping me in someone else's care. Just move on, Chris, this isn't worth your time, and I don’t want to end up in foster care," she was short of breath by the end, eyes brimming with tears, but she felt lighter, weights lifted off her shoulders. For a moment, Chris was at a loss. He stared down at his feet for a moment before his eyes met hers again. Refusing to see the sympathy in his eyes, Cara kept her eyes on her hands, tightly folded in her lap. Tears blurred her vision, sliding in trails down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Cara. You've been a very brave girl through all this, but they don't deserve to go free. Only the lowest, most despicable humans lay a hand on their children. They need to be held accountable for their actions. I'm starting to suspect how they got Captain Wesker to agree, and it likely involved some blackmail that could taint his perfect record."

"Why can't you leave things as they are?" Cara sat up, ignoring the pain as she pushed her body towards the edge of the bed. With great effort, she forced herself to stand on one shaky leg. She reached over to grab his hand and looked at him pleadingly, her eyes brimming with tears. "Please, just leave it alone,"

"I'm sorry, but any way you look at it, this whole thing is riddled with so many wrongs. I can't let these fuckers go free. They don't deserve the fresh new slate. You don't need to do or worry about anything, nobody is taking you away. Just get better and let the cops do their job. I'm STARS, kiddo. It's my job," pushing her back gently, Chris helped Cara sit back down on the bed, her legs ever grateful. Just standing was a heavy exertion on her still-healing body.

"Thank you," Cara whispered, her chest quivering. "I don't want to be a burden. you don't need to do all this just because I'm your sister's friend."

"I'm not doing this because of that. I am doing this as your friend. We see you like family, the unofficial Redfield. Don't feel like your forced to stay with him. Our home is always open. Claire won't let me move your P.J.s from the guest room. Ever."

"Thank you, Chris. I just need some time to think,"

"Take your time, but the decision is really easy. The alternative involves living with a stiff, brooding bastard who'll judge your every action. Now, if blackmail is involved, his home isn't the safest place for you. God knows how far the man is willing to go to keep his records spotless. Your best interest won't be in his list of priorities,"

She wanted to laugh but kept her mouth shut. Chris had no idea just how much 'interest' Wesker held for her. It did touch her that Wesker let her see further than anyone else got to see of him, especially coworkers who spend 12 hours of their day with him. Still, she was beyond grateful to have met Chris and Claire. They were among the most important people in her life.

-----------------------------

Skipping out on her usual nap time, Cara waited. She knew Wesker liked to visit while she slept and that he would show up soon enough. She was going to give him a piece of her mind when she saw him. But first, she gave him the silent treatment, ignoring his presence as he entered the room clad in uniform, holding even more flowers in hand. He must have come straight from the station.

"Someone's looking better. I had a look at your chart, and it looks good, just as it should. Of course, the Birkins made sure you got the best doctors and surgeons on their payroll," Despite being met by silence, Wesker got to replacing the dried flowers with the fresh ones. Cara focused on her homework, aggressively scribbling down the answers.

"Heard you had quite the visitor earlier today. I hope the chat was productive," Cara could hear the smirk in his voice even as his back was turned. Silently, she glared at his back, hands itching to throw the flower vas at him. The tip of her pencil broke from the pressure she put into it, tearing a hole through the paper.

"Something on your mind, Dearheart? Use your words, darling. Immaturity won't get you far in life," his tone was mocking as he arranged the flowers, snipping the stems with an army knife.

"I can't believe you. How could you tell him you're my freaking godfather? of all the explanations, did it have to be this?" Cara exploded, earning an elegantly raised eyebrow.

"Chris refused to believe me, but he took it better when the words came from your mouth. That boy has been upset with me ever since the night of the party. All I did was refuse to allow him to throw his career away. Since then, he has been questioning my every order, constantly asking why I seemed so familiar with you. I thought I'd give him something to twist his little mind."

"Even if he ate the story up, you put me in a tight spot. Now he's out there looking for my folks."

"Ah, your parents. I often wonder what has become of them." Wesker hid his knowing smirk well, taking hold of a dried flower petal. "I sure hope they're alright. Debt collectors can be very vicious in their methods," he turned back to her, crushing the petal in his gloved hand, and letting the crumbs fall to the ground. He came to her side, bed dipping as he took a seat beside her on the bed.

"Why...did you never offer to look for my parents? You're a cop and all. You knew I was getting evicted, so surely you knew they disappeared. You say you care for me, yet you never thought I'd want my own parents back,"

His slender fingers stroked her cheek with a featherlight touch, his eyes peeking into her thoughts. "Do you even want them back?" his question echoed in her thoughts, growing louder by the second. How could someone wish bad things on their own family? Is she a terrible person?

"I-" Cara trembled, licking her lips to speak, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words.

"Because darling, if you did, all you had to do was file a missing person report from day one. It's been over a month now. Such procrastination."

Cara shut her eyes for a moment, only to open them wide. She sat up straight and grabbed the front of his vest. "How did you know they've been gone for a month? Did you do something to them? You -"

"Darling, why must you rush to conclusions? Chris has already filed the report to me and with surprising speed. I only wish he would put the same level of effort into his other work,"

"So, you didn't..." she sighed in relief, but her face colored a violent red knowing she just accused him immediately without any facts or evidence.

"What ideas are you conjuring up in your pretty little head?" he tapped her forehead with his fingers. He wasn’t angry, nor offended, only wearing an amused smirk.

"N-nothing," Cara hid her face with her notebook, holding it in front of her as she leaned as far away into the mattress as she could.

"I want to hear it. You can speak freely with me on any matter," he pressed closer, their chests touching as he flattened her to the bed. It would be quite the scene if a nurse came into the room in this exact moment. This man had no fear.

"Ok then...how much are you being paid to be a double agent?" Cara peeked at him from beneath her lashes, watching him narrow his eyes. She couldn’t pass up the opportunity to gain more information about him. That, and the fact she wanted to change the subject.

Pinching her cheeks together, Wesker leaned in, stealing a kiss. "You just lost the privilege,"

"Look at you, going back your words within minutes. Such a dependable man," she earned an eye roll as Wesker glanced down at his watch.

"It pays generously, but I don't do it for the money. I'm protecting the research of a dear friend of mine. Although, there are many more lucrative opportunities in the near horizon."

"Are you going to leave STARS?"

"You've reached your limit of free speech for the day," he declared, standing up. Noticing the Snickers chocolate wrapper on the table by the bed, he frowned. "These are unhealthy for you, empty high calories and sugar. You should stick to the hospital diet for optimum healing. I want to you out of here soon,"

"These are my favorites for your information and courtesy of Chris. Don't bring up that pile of goop. I bet those dried flowers probably have more flavor. God, how am I supposed to live here for another two weeks? Every meal is a freaking gag challenge,"

"I see...what else would you like to eat?"

"Mac and cheese," Cara said without hesitation with a beaming smile. Already she was starting to salivate with the name alone. It's been too damn long. Even as the question was simple and completely ordinary, she still felt warm and fuzzy. Wesker was asking her what she wanted. The same constantly demanding man was asking her what she wanted.

What a strange day.

"I'll have someone bring it for dinner only if you eat the hospital food for breakfast,"

"Deal, deal, deal,"

Shaking his head, he pressed a soft kiss to the bruises on her temple before heading to the door. "Be a good girl for me, Cara."

"Aren't I always?" she batted her eyelashes, tilting her head with a smirk.

“Read one more page of that book,” Cara’s face fell as she gave a tortured glance at the book he had given her.

“What make you think I haven’t finished it already?”

“Then you would’ve seen the other notes I left.”

[nimmy22]

This one burns different

Chris: The floor is lava!

Jill: *climbs onto counter*

Excella: *kicks Sheva off the couch*

Wesker: *lies on the floor*

Chris: ...Are you ok?

Wesker: no

[nimmy22]

Some Wesker doodles

[nimmy22]

Chris: I just found out from Rebecca today that when Wesker died and the service did the 21-gun salute at their funeral, Jill said, “They should aim at the coffin to be sure.”

[nimmy22]

My shitty grades rolling

Me jamming all dayyyyyyy longgggggggg

gif: not mine

[nimmy22]

By: 巽

[nimmy22]

At least he looked at us, there are so many other ugly bitches who will never be in his godly presence.

Me: I love you, Al.

Albert Wesker: Ew who even are you? Ugly bitch.

Me:

[nimmy22]

He really was an excellent spy/undercover agent for umbrella, even his 2 week notice was spectacular.

I‘M DYING😭 THEIR FACES 😭 THEY RLY >:< SJSSNDJSKD🥺😭

[nimmy22]

A Mistake ~ Masterlist

Fandom:  Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)

Summery: Set before the events of spencer’s mansion. Slight AU where the Birkin’s most recent babysitter gets more than she ever bargained for on one stormy night as she watched over Sherry. Cara was ready for a blackout but she almost got her life snuffed out when two forces attack the Birkin’s home, their goals unclear. All Cara wanted to do was get Sherry to safety but with the phone lines dead, she has to rely on herself.

Will Albert Wesker be an ally? Or will he add Cara to the list of things needing a “clean up”?

Pairing: OC/Albert Wesker Character

Warnings: OC is 17, violence, attempted noncon, Wesker hotness

Chapters ~ Ongoing

1//2//3//4//5//6//7//8//9//10//11//12//13//14//15//16//17

[nimmy22]

Just imagine what could've been

Its take your kid/s to work dayyy

Phot not mine. Just sharing it here

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 14

As Jill sliced through the metal exterior with the saw, Brad and Joseph helped expose the back of the van with crowbars. The metal screeched as it gave away.

One look inside with a flashlight stilled their progress as they stood in silence. Jill inhaled deeply before exhaling through her nose, a hand resting over her gaping mouth. She didn't think the poor girl would make it. None of them did.

Wesker shoved them aside in his impatience, feeling the clutches of fear for the first time in decades. One look inside sent his heart rolling in glass shards, throat growing thicker.

They lifted her limb body out of the wreckage. They were careful not to inflict more injures on her shattered body, supporting her broken limbs and returning those still intact to proper alignment. The moment she was laid on the ground a safe distance away from the wreck, numerous pairs of hands were on Cara, checking pulses, breathing, and applying pressure to stop the bleeding. Among them were Wesker's cold hands searching for a sign of life, an unmistakable tremble to them.

Cara wasn't breathing, but there was a pulse, a quickly fading one. They needed to act fast.

Wesker looked to Jill, and she understood immediately, running to their van to bring a portable defibrillator (AED). Pulling out a pocketknife, he sliced through the front of Cara's shirt, exposing her chest and its ominous stillness.

The motions of C.P.R. were a routine he knew all too well; he just never imagined having to use it on anyone of significance to him. The practiced movements somehow felt sluggish, too slow to save even as he enacted them the same way to rescue countless people of all ages in the past.

After thirty chest compressions, Wesker tilted Cara's head back and lifted her chin, covering her mouth with his to deliver two rescue breaths. Her chest expanded and retreated, but it didn't attempt to take its own breath.

This was expected so early on in the process. Yet, Wesker couldn't contain his frustration as he initiated a second and third set of chest compressions, placing the defibrillator pads over her chest and delivering precise shocks. None of it seemed to help the stillness or the lingering cold taking residence. He felt as if he was stealing life rather than preserving it.

Beads of sweat coated his forehead, saturating his clothes. Not once did he slow, stop, or ask for help. He didn't see any of them as competent enough to take over the task of bringing his Cara back. Despite all his effort, she still couldn't breathe, nor did her heart return to its normal sinus rhythm. It drifted further and further away, closer to flatline.

"Captain, if you're tired, maybe I could continue?" Jill offered, touching her captain's arm, but he jerked away.

"No." Wesker barked, eyes piercing into Jill as she interrupted his cycle. "Where is the ambulance? You had one fucking job, Jill!"

Jill was taken aback, not used to such a response from him. The man who constantly exuded calmness and composure was robbed of both. It trickled down the hierarchy to infect the team. Chaos erupted as the team members threw blame, shouting at each other as nothing seemed to work and the ambulance delay stretched. They really should've listened to Chris earlier instead of their Captain.

Wesker continued C.P.R., willing the kisses of death to give her life. He didn't turn to look as the wreckage caught fire and exploded, drawing crowds of people who slid out of bed in their sleepwear to check the commotion and the high-raising trail of smoke.

The S.T.A.R.S. members did their best to send people back home, but it was like throwing themselves at a brick wall. A fire truck came, but still, there was no sign of an Ambulance.

The smoke burned his eyes, drawing tears that slid down his face, merging with the sheen of sweat coating his skin. It was when he leaned down to deliver another rescue breath that he realized he wasn't breathing, having none to give her. He forced himself to steady his breathing and re-evaluated his priorities. Nothing else mattered. Not his mission in STARS, not Umbrella, not Spencer's will to become an immortal god. In front of him was the most important task of his existence, and failure was not an option.

Fighting with the dispatcher over the radio, Jill was left seething. Apparently, there had been two different car accidents tonight. Neither saw anyone get hurt, yet they were sent ambulances. A third ambulance was stuck on the side of the road with mechanical trouble waiting to be towed. All she was left with was a "Hang on, we will send an ambulance as soon as we can," with no time stamps.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Jill was puzzled. Their captain was a germaphobe, yet he disregarded the C.P.R. mask (bag-valve-mask) by his feet to deliver the rescue breaths himself. He didn't seem to believe in the equipment that's never failed them before. Was it the victim's young age? A sense of failure over missing the existence of another hostage? was he trying to redeem this black mark in his otherwise pristine career? or was it a prior acquaintance? What the hell was it that cracked such an unshakable man? The topic of family or friends outside work never came up, and one would easily assume he had neither. Tonight, he proved more human than they ever gave him credit for.

Joseph took Cara's hand in his, and all he felt was a cold stillness, her lips adorned with a blue taint. "Captain, it's been thirty minutes. Maybe.... this is enough? The kid flatlined. It's no good. Maybe it's time to declare her dead-" Joseph said, scratching his neck with a deep frown.

Joseph's words caused a tightness in Wesker's gut, denying him the ability to breathe. How dare he even imply such a thing? Without thinking, Wesker's hands were clutching the front of Joseph’s shirt, yanking him harshly to the ground.

"Say that again, and I'll have you laying right next to her," Wesker seethed through clenched teeth, naked eyes lit ablaze, having lost his shades in his urgency. With a shove, Wesker released the ghostly pale man before resuming compressions. No one else dared speak to the captain as they watched him trying to save a girl long gone.

Hanging his head, Wesker shut his eyes from the sight of a lifeless Cara. He tried to imagine how she looked hours, days, weeks before, but he couldn't. Those memories betrayed him, denying his greed and denial. This was all he had left, all she left him. A drop of sweat with a tear in its center fell on her cheek. Together they merged with the blood to flow onto the asphalt, marking the waste of youthful life and wasted potential. Gone was all that could've been.

Breathing is an ordinary thing, something all living creatures can do subconsciously. No one thinks much of it, and they take it for granted their whole lives. It's not a talent or an exotic treasure, just a simple act of the living.

Only when it's gone, do they learned to appreciate it. What typically follows is being covered in dirt or brushed into a vase.

Who knew something as ordinary as a tiny gasp could drop people to their knees? Break tensions? Garner a crowd to cry, hug and cheer? Bring life back? Because Cara's sure did.

Wesker wasn't listening to the praises coming from all directions. Her coughs and gasps were the most lavish praises of all, the light at the end of a long pitch-black tunnel. He would never again let go of his light. The darkness was too cold.

--------------------

With her eyes glued shut, she laid on her back, a heavy force weighing down her chest. Her ribs screamed with every breath, stabbing her lungs with every exhalation. She couldn't shake the feeling of spinning out of control as the world filled with gunshots. Everything was a blur of shapes. Everything hurt all at once, down to every bone. She wanted to push the heaviness off her chest, but her arms refused to move.

She was barely aware of her surroundings but caught snippets of people talking around her and wasn't sure if it was reality or a delusion. "This is Enough...flatlined...declare her dead...Forgive me...don't leave......oxygen stats dropping again... you better keep her alive...increase the morphine dose...prepare her for the operating room...."

Drifting in and out of consciousness, it was hard for Cara to stay awake for long before drifting away again. The days and nights fused together as each blink of an eye switched the sun and moon outside her window. From the little time she spent aware, she noticed the plain white hospital room and the oxygen mask over her mouth. Lips like cracked desert sands, Cara struggled to lift even a finger. Seeing her awake, a nurse ran out and returned with a doctor.

"About time you joined us. I had my doubts but, welcome back." She recognized Dr. Annette Birkin, who gave her a bright smile despite the bags under her eyes. Cara didn't get to ask what happened before she lost herself again to a dreamless sleep.

---------------------

Cara felt the sunlight against her eyes before she lazily cracked them open. After adjusting to the bright light, she took in her surroundings, gaze coming to rest on a new assortment of flowers by her bedside. A few other things had changed. There were more gift baskets, balloons, and about a dozen get-well cards, a stark difference from the once plain white room. Feeling a presence beside her, she turned her head, and her breath caught. Her widened eyes drunk the sight of him.

Sitting next to her bed was Wesker in a casual black dress shirt and slacks, a newspaper held up in front of him and a frown creasing his forehead. The beginnings of stubble covered his jaw. It was a bizarre sight to Cara, watching him do normal everyday tasks. The headline caught her attention, and her eyes skimmed the words.

'S.T.A.R.S. Latest Blunder: Disregard For Civilian Safety During Police Chase.' She wondered what that was about.

Oh.

It all rushed back to her.

Everything. All the pain, coldness, and stupid decisions came back to torment her. Cara grimaced as the chest pain returned, crawling along every rib. It felt as if she was lying beneath a stampede.

Glancing back at Wesker, Cara swallowed. She wasn't ready to face him and seeing as he hadn't noticed her awake, she shut her eyes and pretended to sleep.

"I know you're awake," Wesker spoke calmly, folding the newspaper neatly before slamming it on the table by the bed. Cara's eyes flew open to the sound, instantly meeting his. Standing up, He towered over Cara as she shrunk back into the bed. It was surreal looking up at him as she lay in the hospital bed, but his anger was very real and very dangerous.

He walked closer, bending towards her. Long fingers spread through her hair with tenderness before they formed a fist, gripping a healthy chunk of hair. Wesker glared at Cara, his eyes unforgiving even as she flinched. "I heard about what you did. I can't say I'm surprised, but it's irritating all the same."

Cara sighed, too exhausted for this interaction. "What was I to do? She's my-"

With his hand still in her hair, he leaned down and kissed her harshly, stubble scratching her chin. Despite the cruelty of the kiss, she found herself leaning in, yearning to be closer to the warmth. It hurt so good.

Pulling back, he pressed their foreheads together, the look in his eyes stealing her breath. "None of this changes anything. I will never let you go. Trust me when I say I will do everything in my power to bring you back each and every time. Even if it means playing with your entire genome. Death will never take what is mine."

As the door to the room slid open, Wesker was already pulling away but not before leaving a much gentler kiss on the corner of her mouth. "That will be all miss, I will register your statement. Someone will be in contact with you later if there is anything else. Have a good day," Wesker spoke in a louder voice before giving the nurse a nod on his way out, throwing a devious smirk at you behind her back.

"He's quite a catch, isn't he?" the nurse giggled, seeing Cara's slight blush, the tips of her ears beet red. She made unintelligible noises, none of which were words, before deciding it was best to shut up as the nurse changed her IV bag.

That night was possibly one of the best and worst nights of her seventeen years of life, taking a bizarre spin on events she still couldn't believe happened.

--------------------------

After two weeks in the hospital, Cara was more stable, and Claire became a familiar sight in her room. But today, she was alone as her friend officially entered a period of being grounded. Claire was allowed truce to see her friend when she was unstable, but now that there was assurance she wouldn't die, Chris was ready to hand the punishments.

In a way, it was also a punishment for Cara, who was stuck in this room left alone for hours, only conversing with the nurses when they came to take her vitals. She half expected her parents to rush in any minute, having heard about what happened to their only daughter, but they never did. Despite all they put her through, she found herself staring out the window with a longing sigh. What would it take for them to give a crap about her? They swiftly disappeared from her life without a trace. She often wondered if they wound up dead in a ditch somewhere.

Wesker had come by several times, but she had been asleep, and he didn't wake her. She knew he had visited by a gift basket left behind. A self-help book about effective decision-making along with some protein bars with a lengthy list of nutritious ingredients she didn't bother to finish reading. Finding the hospital food disgustingly bland, she was forced to nibble on the bars. At least they had flavor.

The nurses always gushed about him, grilling her about how they knew each other. She laughed at the nurses who fought over which one of them was good enough to make a move on him. If they only knew who he really was, they'd be making for the high hills. They had no chance because the man in question had terrible, terrible taste, having been the target of his affections from the start.

Homework piled on the table by her bed, courtesy of Claire bringing it for her from school. Despite her boredom and loneliness, she had no motivation to touch any of it. Having almost died, she felt the silly math problems on the paper were useless. She traced her scars for what seemed like the hundredth time, but still, she couldn't remember how exactly they happened. They still felt unreal, but the pain always made itself a known reality. They told her of what happened and what Wesker did for her. Yes, she was incredibly grateful but didn't feel like she was worth the effort when all others had given up. Wesker was a man she still couldn't figure out and likely never will. He was a dangerous man, but he constantly keeps being there for her more than anyone else she knew. He was an idiot who loved wasting time.

Looking over at the self-help book, Cara rolled her eyes before picking it up. Wesker was definitely trying to tell her something. As she opened the first page, a note slid out, falling on her lap. Reading over the intricate handwriting, Cara couldn't help but smile.

'I truly hope next time we meet, there will be even a tiny minuscule amount of improvement in your decision-making process.' Cara got the message loud and clear.

Two pages into the book, and she tossed it aside before reaching for her math homework. It had suddenly looked much more appealing. She wasn't far into the problems before there was a knock at the door. Thinking it was the nurse, she told them to come in without looking up.

The footsteps were heavier and bigger than any nurse she knew, which had her looking up. "Hey, I already told you I don't want to do any interviews..." realizing it was, Cara, blushed. "Oh, sorry. Hey Chris,"

"No worries. I can only imagine the hassle the reporters put you through. They'd do anything to sell a story, including harassing a recovering victim right in their hospital bed." Chris nodded, smiling at her warmly. "You're looking better,"

"Thanks, I'm feeling better too. But you know what I'm missing? Claire. you wouldn't know where she's at, would you?" Cara poked, knowing full well where her friend was.

with a sigh, Chris took up the seat by her bed. "It cant's wait anymore. She needs to learn her lesson, especially with how dangerous things are getting around here. Going to parties in the middle of nowhere with active drug deals and armed gang members are a huge no-no in the Redfield household,"

"Can't it wait one more day?" Cara gave him her best puppy dog eyes, but it likely didn't look pretty as one eye was a little swollen and bruised.

Looking away, Chris sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. "Fine, you can have her tomorrow, but that's it." He said sternly, and she beamed, giving a thumbs up.

"I knew you could be reasonable,"

There was a moment of silence where Chris just stared at Cara. The scrutiny of the look made her feel as if she had done something wrong, which was a long, endless list. She fidgeted under his gaze, toying with the pencil in her hand. He opened his mouth and closed it with a heavy sigh as if deciding on the best words.

"Thank you," He finally began, casting his eyes on his shoes. "I'm sorry if I'm late to say it. If it wasn't for you, I might be sitting in front of my little sister right now. That is if she made it through the crash. You've got a strong will to live, kid." Chris quickly stood before turning around, rubbing his eyes on his sleeve.

"She's my best friend. I would do anything for her," Cara's eyes sparkled as she thought of her friend. She would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Clearing his throat, he glanced back at Cara with a smile. “You’re a good friend, and she is fortunate to have you in her life,"

"Ditto,"

"Well, I will take my leave. I don't want to bother you any more than I have." Chris tossed her a snickers bar before heading for the door.

"Have a nice day, Chris. I really appreciate you coming," she instantly attacked the chocolate, tearing into the caramel goodness.

"Probably happier for the chocolate than me, but you deserve it. I'll bring you a couple more next time I come by," Chris paused with his hand still on the doorknob. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Um?" Cara answered without looking up.

"Wesker..." The name was said with much contempt, but it caught her attention, and she paused her munching. "Wesker told me he was your...godfather?"

She choked, eyes bulging out of her sockets.

"That made zero sense to me, so I tried to contact your parents. But no one has seen them for over a month, and there is an eviction notice on your apartment door. What the hell is going on?"

[nimmy22]

Took A while but I finally did it! my first ever digital drawing. Took forever to learn Krita but it finally paid off. I hope you guys like it.

I do not own the background and I can't find who made.

[nimmy22]

I've been itching to draw him for weeks and finally it is out of my system...for now. . I couldn't possibly do Wesker any justice but here he is. Personally I like it before the coloring. Clearly amateur work but you gotta start somewhere. Struggled with digital art before giving up and doing it by hand cause Wesker wanted to come out. Say Hi!