Resident Evil Series Fan Fiction ❯ Uncontrolled Exposure ❯ Chapter 6

Hangovers & Harassment

Bright blinding light and an echoing pounding rhythm were the first sensations to greet Bastian Shaw as soon as he opened his eyes. Prompting him to-very quickly- close them again as he rolled and tried to feel around for his glasses. He'd taken his contacts out the night before somewhere between his second and seventh drinks, hoping that the temporary relief would be enough to keep his eyes from hurting and aching now that he was up in the mountains with the God forsaken pollen his allergies detested . . . His fingers hit the cool, hard plastic; making him sigh in relief as his hand closed around the arm. Oh thank the Lord at least now he wasn't blind and in pain. But as he slid the thick black rimmed frames onto his face he released all of his hopes had been rather foolish.

He'd grabbed someone's sunglasses . . . and even though the tinted glass was helping with the hateful glare of sunlight pouring in from the open windows it wasn't helping him see. Actually everything around him was just dark and blurry instead of blurry. He sighed, shaking his head as he pushed up off the couch; glancing around the room in confusion.

Okay he knew that he and the others had killed more than their fair share of alcohol but he honestly remembered laying down in his bed the night before. So why in the hell was he on his sister's sofa? He slid the glasses off, tossing them to the table before rubbing his eyes; willing his beer and liquor ridden brain to properly function.

What in the hell had happened last night?

Movement to his side made him turn, his weak eyes landing on a large cream and rose splotched lump laying near his feet. He blinked, his eyes focusing enough to let him see that the rose splotches were actually flowers on a cream cover. But where in the hell had it come from? His sister for all of her love of the cottage actually hated most things that would naturally belong here. Vehemently. Meaning that the bright and cheerful faded quilt wasn't something she'd tossed over them late in the night.

But who the hell had thought to bring a country quilt camping?

The lump moved as Bastian reached out and felt around the table, finally securing his own spectacles and sliding them in place just as the rose decorated lump sat up. The covers pulled tight around whoever's face as a low, pain filled guttural groan sounded from the shadows. Bastian winced, reaching up to rub his temples as he tried not to outright cringe. God they sounded about like he felt.

The lump moved again, the covers pulling back just enough to show him Forest's face; the man's eyes barely open as his mouth hung half-open limply. And Bastian knew that if he didn't probably look as pitiful then he would be laughing his ass off. God Forest didn't look hungover he looked close to damn dead.

He reached out, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder as he groaned again; the younger man's head drooping just enough to let him see that both Redfield and Valentine were starting to stir in the background. He smirked, watching Jill sit up slowly; looking around before her bleary blue eyes landed on Chris. Bastian raised a brow as he watched her eyes narrow, one of her brows twitching in time to Chris's loud snores echoing through the otherwise quiet cottage. He nudged Forest, the man turning just in time to watch Jill reach out and pinch Redfield's calf. Hard.

The sniper flew off of the floor like a shot, looking around wildly before his hands flew to his forehead; clutching his skull as he flopped back into his pallet of covers. Only to groan and yelp when his head collided with the hardwood floors beneath the covers hard. Forest sputtered, laughing aloud before he groaned; clutching his own skull as Bastian chuckled weakly. While Jill just rolled her eyes and pushed to her feet, covering her face as she steadied herself.

After a few moments her voice carried to them, strained and obviously pained. And her tanned skin started to look, well green.

“Where's the bathroom Bastian?”

He pointed towards the back of the house, not even getting the chance to speak as she shot down the hallway. Nearly knocking Wesker and Claire down as she pushed towards the guest bathroom. Claire looked back towards her, calling out the door slammed closed. And Bastian knew-as they heard the very distinct sounds of retching-that the group probably wasn't going to be leaving for a while.

Claire looked over Chris as he groaned and rubbed his head on the floor; rolling her eyes before she turned back to him, eyes worried as she stepped further into the room. Wesker waited for her to move before he started towards the kitchen, shaking his head with a disappointed look as he stepped over Redfield; his voice low as he chided the other officer.

“Honestly Redfield. Did you need to pickle your brain as well as your liver?”

And Bastian suddenly wondered if tossing this man in with his own quirky smart ass siblings was such a good idea. They were either going to humanize the man or drive him completely and totally insane. A vision of Wesker perched in a bell tower with a highpowered sniper rifle, picking off random people as he laughed maniacally . . . targeting any and every one that even closely resembled his brother and sister or Redfield popped into his mind. He shook his head, looking around slowly.

Speaking of Chaosia . . .

He sighed, pushing to his feet to find his missing siblings. He needed to make sure that Khail hadn't done anything too terribly stupid the night before and break the news to his sister. They were going to have company until sometime in the afternoon. Or at the very least until the others were sober enough to hike the five and a half miles up the mountain to the larger spring-fed lake.

He just hoped she didn't skin him for being the messenger.

_________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________

Chaosia sighed, trying not to grind her teeth as she listened to the rather rowdy group toll around her house; trying to keep her mind focused on the results slowly flickering on the screen before her. God if this wasn't worse than waiting for stain panels to set! But-she kept reminding herself-as soon as they were packed the majority of her problems would be marching straight out the door and further up the mountain. She closed her eyes, counting to ten in her head as she grasping the fraying tendrils of her waning patience tightly without finally snapping.

It'd been hard enough to keep her attention on the reports and work before her without the noise and ruckus inside, her mind wanting to wander to the tall statuesque captain that had sat and talked with her the night before on its own. She frowned to herself, disappointed that the she'd let the short conversation affect her at all. So the man had a nice, deep voice and pretty blue eyes . . . so did at least 39% of the men in Raccoon city. And none of them made her skin want to jig off of her body after the flood of hormones died out.

God this was only going to cause problems.

But then again most things that involved her family did just that. She snorted, shaking her head as she reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose. She wasn't being fair and she knew it. She knew that Bastian meant well by bringing his boss with him . . . just like she knew that for all of his idiocy that Khail wasn't honestly trying to grate her nerves. But she really just wished that for once they'd thought instead of just acted. Because now-instead of just having the dynamic duo and the confusing borderline antisocial Captain to contend with- she was losing valuable time and peace of mind. She was already going to have to cut her holiday short and take on more days at the Coroner's Office.

She opened her eyes, reaching out and taking a large draw from the thick tumbler of scotch; barely even noticing the burn as the dark liquid blazed down her throat to settle hard in her stomach. Apparently the secondary pathologist and medical examiner for the Raccoon City Coroner's Office had decided that no calling-no showing was the best way to announce she was leaving her position. And now-after the others had tried to call both her home and cell phones- they still didn't know what had happened to the woman. Only that her apartment had been vacated and no one could reach her . . . and that Dr. Connors swore there was a new permanent position for her should she want to take it after she turned in her thesis.

Chaosia turned her eyes back to the house, tracking the movement of the interlopers through the French doors and windows before she rolled them; turning back to glare at the lake ruefully. She shifted in her seat, knowing good and well that she was pouting as she watched a crane skim the smooth surface of the lake before she closed her eyes again but she couldn't help it. She was supposed to be up here to relax and spend time with her brothers, to try and squeeze some quality family time in between working on this. Not babysitting Bastian's coworkers, entertaining Khail's latest piece of ass-because she didn't buy that they weren't sleeping together no matter how hard he tried to sell it to their brothers- and worrying over trying to fit a now full work schedule in on top of her Graduate work.

Or hiding from a certain blonde captain.

“Chaosia?”

She turned, the new voice breaking her from her thoughts; her eyes landing on Claire Redfield. The young redhead was standing just on the outside of the largest French doors, her normally pale cheeks tinted pink as she worried her bottom lip between slightly crooked white teeth. The tiny imperfections she could see weren't offsetting in the least, actually they just added to her appeal. And in that instance-as the girl shifted on her feet, glancing back to the interior of the house uncertainly before stepping closer- Chaos could admit that she understood what her brother saw in the kid.

She wasn't loud or annoying-like her brother had proved he could be, especially drunk-, she wasn't stupid-if the well used hulking school books she'd spotted tucked away in her hiking pack were any indication- and she wasn't some pampered primadonna princess. She was just young . . . a fucking baby. Chaosia sighed, nodding to the chair beside her as she pushed her aggravation back. She needed to at least try to be nice. Even if the word wasn't usually in her vocabulary.

Claire stepped closer, almost touching the back of the chair before she stopped. Chaos raised a brow, watching the other girl's cheeks stain dark as she glanced to her boots quickly; shuffling on her feet as she shifted nervously. Which just made Chaosia roll her eyes behind the thick fringe of her bangs. Seriously? Why did this girl act like she was seven foot tall and about to devour her or some shit? She was just sitting here . . . she wasn't ranting and raving or threatening her. But apparently the quiet unnerved Claire Redfield more than an outright threat or verbal confrontation would.

And as the girl glanced back up Chaos could admit she almost felt sorry for intimidating her so badly. But she wasn't about to start acting like she was head over heels for the kid. Like she'd said before, Khail was fucking her- not her. And if she couldn't handle a little silence then she was in for a ton of trouble when she started working.

“Uh . . . Bastian said I could use your laptop to double check the weather. But I wanted to ask you first . . . I mean, I hate it when Chris and Jill just hop on mine without asking. And you're using it.”

Chaosia blinked, glancing down to the thin silver computer in her lap before she shrugged. She had at least another fifteen minutes before she could even start on the next subtopic for her report so why not? Besides the girl had asked . . . that was a hell of a lot more than her brothers usually did. She cut her eyes to Claire before looking pointedly to the seat, dipping her chin towards the chair as she started closing unnecessary programs and minimizing the others.

Claire seemed to start before practically falling into the chair bonelessly, watching as she typed away on the keyboard. Chaosia rolled her eyes behind her glasses as Claire looked around the back porch curiously, biting her lip to keep herself quiet. She knew that Bastian had shown them the entire house and the property; meaning the girl had been out here at least once. Which meant that all of her looking around was how she planned to keep herself out of trouble.

She cut her eyes back to the other girl, grinning mean spiritedly to herself as the kid jumped when she spoke. God she was so damn jumpy . . . meaning that Khail had probably told her all about how `horrid and temperamental' she could be.

“Thank you for that. I highly doubt Bastian would know how to work some of these programs. He's not the best with electronics if you haven't noticed. The backup should only take a moment. Once the desktop is visible again feel free to check anything you need.”

Claire grinned and nodded, letting Chaosia know that she'd seen her eldest brother get shocked trying to set up the seldom used TV the night before while the others had drank and laughed. And somehow the fact that the girl hadn't outright laughed and picked on her blushing brooding half brother just made her the tiniest bit more tolerable . . . until she remembered that the girl was dating Khail. Who was known for occasionally blowing himself-and whoever was unfortunate enough to be near him- up while he tinkered with whatever he found.

She handed the girl the laptop, watching her eyes scan over the series of slides that were cycling quickly across the screen. Claire's brows knit in confusion as her eyes came back up to lock with hers; her plump lips drawing down in a tiny frown.

“What in the world are these? Alien snapshots?”

Chaosia smirked sardonically, shaking her head as she reached over; tapping the touchpad before she opened up the primary images of the study.

“No, they're not aliens . . . just viruses. One actually.”

Claire looked at her, clearly even more confused as she shook her head.

“Look, I'm the first to admit that I suck at biology and physiology but even I can tell that these are different. I mean, they can't be the same virus if the protein tail fibres are different right?”

Chaos blinked, looking over the girl impressed before she turned back to the screen. In any normal circumstance the girl would be right, the type of differences to the fibres representing differences within the actual infrastructure of the control sample. She pointed to the capsid, explaining what they were seeing.

“Actually what you're seeing is a mutagenic evolution of a virus. This is how the sample was originally structured at the beginning of the observation when it was collected and cultured. Each proceeding stain marks a definitive change in the structure and function of the disease-“

“Disease?”

Chaosia nodded, reaching up to push her hair out of her face as she continued; explaining what she'd been steadily working on for over a month. And while it was obvious that most of it was out of Claire's intellectual grasp she could tell it wasn't by much. The girl was smart . . . so what in the hell was she doing with her brother?

“Yes. In this case-“ she moved, clicking away from the slides they'd been looking at to the secondary sample. The one she would actually be turning in for her grade. She looked back to Claire, smiling at her a bit warmer as she nodded back to the screen. “This little bugger is a dying strain of the SARS coronavirus.”

Claire blinked at her, clearly confused.

“The what-a-what now?”

Chaosia chuckled, shaking her hair free of its ponytail as she started talking about the virus that had originally caught her interest. It wasn't unusual that Claire didn't know about it . . . very few people had been exposed at this point, most government agencies and disease control centers preferring not to air this particular finding in fear of starting a global panic.

“One of three new human coronaviruses that are starting to have a bigger effect on the world. Before they found this strain in Asia last summer virologists and viral pathologists only knew about the HCoV-229E and HCoV-0C43 strains-“

Claire paled, looking up almost frantic as she bit her bottom lip hard enough for the flesh to turn white. And Chaosia suddenly felt bad for making her worry before she shook herself. This is why people needed to be educated about the viruses at play in the world today. That way when something truly horrendous popped up they wouldn't mistake it for something small . . . or vice versa.

“Wait-what! That sounds pretty serious. What is it like a new plague or something?”

“No, Ms. Redfield. They are merely two of several viruses thought to be possible causes for the common cold. What are the two of you doing?”

Claire's head spun towards the new voice hard enough that Chaosia knew she'd given herself whiplash, her cheeks flushing as she pushed out of the seat; nearly dropping her laptop in the process. Chaos raised a brow, looking to Wesker as he stood just behind the chair Claire had been in; his hands firmly planted in the pockets of his dark slacks as the dark blue crew necked shirt clung to his shoulders and chest before hanging limply around his waist and torso. The man seemed the epitome of calm and collected but something about the way he was standing-how he held himself screamed he was anything but.

If anything he seemed almost worried as his eyes flicked over them behind the lenses of his glasses, like they'd been looking over something they weren't supposed to. But how in the hell could he know that? And how long had he been eavesdropping on their impromptu virology lesson? Claire had no idea that the first series of slides were from the morgue-or more to the point a body found almost completely dismembered at the base of Arklay Mountain. Or that the only two people who knew of the virus's existence were herself and the oh-so-wonderful Dr. Connors. And she knew-from the weight of the man's glare burning her skin- that he didn't need to know that either.

She shook herself, watching Claire stutter and falter in front of the Captain. If she intimidated the poor kid then Wesker terrified her.

“Um no-nothing, sir. I just uh-I'm gonna go back in and see if the others are ready yet. Thanks for telling me about that Chaosia.”

She nodded, watching the other girl dart back inside; her brows nearly in her hair line as she turned back up to look at Wesker. The man dipped his chin, his ever present sunglasses sliding down his nose as he shrugged. And she wasn't too terribly surprised when he moved and sank into the chair beside her the same as he had the night before.

But something was different now. Before he'd been quiet and almost charming, his demeanor-while tense and oozing with dominance- hadn't seemed intimidating or overbearing. But now . . . now he seemed almost like a tyrant. She furrowed her brows, suddenly truly uneasy for the first time since she'd earned her first doctorate. Being the youngest in the lab, morgue and her classes she'd learned not to let anyone make her feel like she was less; deliberately making sure others were more put-off by her than she could be by them if she had to.

Albert Wesker however seemed to be immune to that. Actually it seemed- as he lazily pulled one of his legs up and into his lap, crossing it over his knee and resting his hands on his calf- that he was to be her kryptonite . . . And as he nodded to her, extending his hand towards the laptop almost like an aggravated parent she knew she didn't appreciate it. At all. She moved, closing out the Arklay viral stains with a quick tap-and isolating them to her private locked files- before handing him the computer; smirking at the slight tick his left eyebrow gave when he realized that the only thing up were the SARS coronavirus stains.

So he had been eavesdropping.

She nodded to herself, crossing her arms as she settled back into the plush chair; feeling smug and relieved all at once. He wouldn't be able to go traipsing through the computer with her sitting here-not without causing an all out and out fight- and she would be diligent in making sure to keep the damn thing with her until she could lock it away in the firesafe in her closet.

He looked back up at her, his glasses sliding down his nose as his eyes roamed her face; showcasing disappointment, aggravation and just the slightest bit of approval as he sighed and shook his head. She knew her own cheeks probably matched Claire's now but she refused to turn away. She wasn't a scolded child and she hadn't done anything wrong. Connors had given her the samples to track and work with because of her viral specialization . . . and if Albert Wesker had anything to say about it then he could kiss her ass.

She had no idea what was going on here but she didn't like it. And she would keep an eye on it.

_________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________

Wesker looked at Chaosia over the rim of his sunglasses, trying to string the proper words together to reprimand her. He'd seen the other samples she'd been looking over, the other virus. It was one that he knew all too well. Hell at this point both he and William Birkin knew both the G and T viruses almost as well as he knew Progenitor.

But as he watched Chaosia look back at him unrepentantly, her cheeks darkening even as she seemed to preen in front of him he found himself at a loss. He knew he needed to dispose of her, to warn her away from having anything further to do with this but he couldn't seem to make his lips form the actual warning. And it didn't sit well with him.

At all.

He knew that part of it was because she was Bastian's family, that she was the sister of one of the only people to actually treat him like a person instead of a meal ticket or some sort of prodigal pariah but there was more to it. He was honestly impressed with her. She was so different from most of the others that he dealt with. Hell even Bastian and William had their moments where he would honestly rather shoot them than listen to them draw their next breath. But Chaosia . . . he'd known her such a short amount of time and he had yet to correctly categorize or anticipate her actions.

This girl was a paradox. A paradox wrapped in a conundrum wrapped in an enigma. One that was stubborn and dedicated-especially if Bastian were to be believed. And while he knew he needed to step in, to intervene before she uncovered something that would pit her against him he suspected that if he told her to stop she would only push ahead to do exactly the opposite. Something he didn't want to happen just yet.

Which is what was making this so damned hard. How did you warn someone without warning them? Manipulate someone who was close to your intellectual equal to do your bidding without tipping them off? Every single person he'd dealt with to this point had been simple to control once he'd found their crutch . . . and he had no clue what hers was. She'd proven she had no problem inflicting pain upon her own kith and kin and that-while not exactly rude- she wasn't eager to form new and superficial attachments to other people.

Other than her school and work-which seemed to dominate most of her life- he had no idea where to even begin to strike. Unless . . . He paused, the simplicity of his next thought so stunning that he almost smiled. He was a doctor, a key researcher within the biochemical and genetics division of Umbrella-not that she ever needed to know. He could figure out more than a few things to keep her chasing her tail. The same way he did Redfield and the others in STARs and the RPD when they got too close something the company didn't want them privy to.

He grinned, looking back to the screen before he shrugged. They would play it her way for now . . . and if she got too close he would send her in another direction. He clicked the touchpad, looking over the slides in feigned boredom as he spoke; transforming her smug look to one of confusion. She'd honestly expected him to speak out against her, to tell her what to do. He grinned mentally, almost crowing at the tiny victory.

Wesker-1. Chaosia-0.

“I must say I'm impressed . . . the young Claire almost seemed to understand what you were saying. This is the SARS-CoV . . . am I right?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as she shifted in her seat; her hair falling around her face wildly as she cut her eyes to him. She was still looking to him guardedly but she seemed at odds, like the fact that he hadn't reacted the way she'd thought had thrown her. He smirked, clicking through the slides lazily as she spoke.

“Yeah . . . it's a dying variant strain that underwent forced mutation. The sample was given to the viral pathology division of the University for testing and research about six months ago.”

He nodded, reaching up and pulling his sunglasses off; folding them and tucking them on the neck of his shirt. He kept looking over the screen as he spoke, glancing at her from the corner of his eye ever so often.

“I haven't seen a true stain of this yet. Have they reported any casualties thus far?”

She shook her head, pushing her hair away from her face as her cheeks started to return to their normal color. He glanced at her, watching her start to relax more and more; becoming just a bit more at ease with every second of their exchange. Oh he could tell she was nowhere near trusting him but she wasn't as on-guard as she had been. She even leaned across and tapped the screen, resting one of her hands on the arm of his chair; her eyes cutting to him quickly as her cheeks tinted pink again.

“Not as far as I know. We were given that sample by some new agency. They apparently found it and two others- NL63 and HKU1- in some kind of raid last year. As far as we can tell while they aren't designer they have been tampered with. See the uncommonly thick hemagglutinin esterases?”

Wesker nodded, temporarily forgetting about keeping score as he watched the protein spikes lengthen and thicken from slide to slide. Whatever lab had done this had been thorough . . . the change almost looked natural. But he could see the small rings in the spikes that signaled it had been artificial, the seemingly small change helping increase the virus's lifespan by almost half. And they hadn't even weaponized it yet . . . He looked back up to Chaosia, honestly interested in the prospect before him.

“Symptoms and contraction methods?”

“As far as I could tell? Severe illness marked initially by systemic symptoms of muscle pain, headache, and fever, followed in 2-10 days by the onset of respiratory symptoms, mainly cough, dyspnea, and pneumonia. Another common finding in the models is a decrease in the number of lymphocytes circulating in the blood . . . It's an airborne contagion. ”

He nodded, impressed and concerned all at once. No disease control center would be prepared for a virus with this level of adaptability. He glanced back towards the house, watching the others scuttle around aimlessly. How long did it take them to pack up a single change of clothes and stuff the rest of their camping gear back into Redfield's vehicle? He looked back, noticing that Chaosia's eyes were settled on the others as well; her left eye ticking as a loud crash sounded from the kitchen. Scant seconds later they heard both Bastian and Redfield start up, their voices almost drowning out Forest as he sheepishly apologized.

“Forest! Be careful!”

“Damn it kid! Chaos is gonna skin me alive for that! Clean it up! NOW!”

“Jeez guys . . . it was just an accident-“

Wesker turned back to Chaosia, reaching out and patting the hand on his chair; giving her a sympathetic smile as her shoulders seemed to sag. She looked back up at him, giving him a tiny grin before she glared back at the house; muttering under her breath as they heard something else break. Right before the very aggravated voice of both of her brothers were joined by Valentine and the Redfield siblings.

“Jesus just let them leave while I still have dishes to eat on.”

Wesker chuckled, letting his hand rest over hers as he shook his head with a wry grin.

“Trust me dear heart, from the tone of Bastian's voice Forest is probably going to spend the rest of his visit on your front porch-“

Another crash sounded, this time followed closely by Jill and Claire's yelps and a very masculine curse that could've only come from Redfield. Chaosia went to push to her feet when he moved, stepping inside to investigate; the young woman following him closely. He just hoped for her sake that the others would be leaving soon. Her nerves didn't seem like they would be able to handle much more of Alpha team's antics . . . not without bloodshed.

_________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________