Resident Evil Series Fan Fiction ❯ Uncontrolled Exposure ❯ Chapter 7

Complications

Albert Wesker watched Chris Redfield load the last of their few bags into the back of his Jeep, the man gritting his teeth hard enough to crack as he grumbled and growled. But Wesker guessed he couldn't really blame him . . . he didn't know how well he would fair if it were his younger sister salivating all over an obviously older man-er, boy. He shook his head, turning to glance down at Chaosia as Bastian kept her close to his side; his arm shackled around her shoulders as the man kept a weather eye on the tearful-and apparently kiss filled- goodbye occurring at the bottom of her steps.

He raised a brow, watching as the girl's shoulders tensed; her jaw clenching as she balled her fists. And he knew that this wasn't happening anywhere near the pace it needed to. Not for Claire Redfield to be able to leave with both a brother and a boyfriend intact. Finally Chris's patience reached its ends, his voice gruff and hard as he snapped at the two over his shoulder.

“Damn it Claire. C'mon. Everyone else is already loaded.”

Claire pulled away from Mikhail, glaring at the back of Chris's head as he moved to crawl in the driver's seat; calling over his shoulder to Bastian as he went.

“Thanks for the hospitality folks. We'll see you guys in two days.”

Bastian nodded, keeping Chaosia close as she snorted and rolled her eyes; turning to glare at Mikhail as he spoke to Claire again. And Wesker suddenly wondered if whatever affection was between them was worth this. It was obvious that neither of their families were too thrilled about this between them-though he didn't know if it was honest objections or their own paranoia-and yet they seemed fine. Aggravated and indignant if the twin looks of exasperation they were shooting towards Redfield as he honked the horn were anything to judge by but fine.

“I wish I could go with you . . . it'd be more fun than watching my sister work herself to death while Bastian does whatever with his boss.”

Chaosia broke him from his musings as she shifted again, leaning her cheek against Bastian's bicep. Her bottom lip was slightly puckered and her eyes seemed just the tiniest bit sad, almost watery as her voice floated over the three of them. And Albert Wesker realized that while Mikhail's shenanigans weren't really affecting Bastian-other than making his eye twitch the same way Chaosia's had on the porch- they were apparently hurting her feelings.

“Just tell him to go, Bastian. If he doesn't want to be here then he doesn't have to be.”

Bastian looked down at her, his face showing just how much hearing that had upset him before he sighed; shaking his head as he hugged her closer. His hand rubbed her arm through her thick oatmeal cableknit cardigan. She ducked her eyes down, her bags shielding her eyes as he spoke. But Wesker could see that Bastian wasn't happy with her response to his opinion.

“Oh c'mon Chaos. He'll get over it five seconds after she's gone and you know it. Just let them get gone and we'll start coo-“

“Just tell him, Bastian. I'd hate for him to have to see someone do work. Speaking of which, I have research I'd much rather do than see him slobber all over that girl. Excuse me.”

Wesker watched her pull away, pushing back into the house quickly as Bastian looked after her. He frowned to himself as Bastian growled and stalked down the steps, motioning for Chris to get out of the car. And while he watched the two elder siblings talk and-from their body language-gripe he realized something troubling. He hardly knew enough about Redfield and Shaw to accurately decipher their actions . . . because he'd been sure that-before Redfield cursed and reached into the car, cutting the engine-both men were just going to tell the idiots to suck it up. But here they were, both moving towards their younger siblings with determined strides.

He sighed, turning to step back into the house as he left the others to deal with the drama. He hated being underinformed about anything . . . even something so seemingly trivial as this. Who knew what this abrupt change in attitude could lead to if it happened at the precinct? Or worse yet out in the field? He crossed the threshold, moving towards the simple inviting bedroom he'd been allotted. He needed to find somewhere quiet to think . . . and maybe in his wonderings he just might figure out why seeing Chaosia upset bothered him.

Even if it was only a little.

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Bastian growled as he moved through the kitchen, trying his hardest not to slam any of the cupboards shut as he got the things together to make dinner. Chaosia had already basted and infused the roast, letting it marinade in the fridge overnight so that the flavors would seep from the tender cut once it was cooked. And it didn't escape him that she'd forgone his own favorite recipe-saffron, citrus and sage- in favor of deferring to Khail's-lemon, garlic and cracked pepper.

Too bad the little prick wasn't going to be around to enjoy all of her hard work . . . he'd rather go off traipsing through the woods with his girlfriend. A girlfriend that had a very aggravated and angry older brother that was probably going to bury him. Bastian snorted, rolling his eyes as he moved to start quartering redskinned potatoes and hulling garlic. It would serve him right for hurting their sister's feelings . . . and for ditching them because a pretty little skirt batted her lashes.

He stilled, reaching up and running a hand through his hair; pushing it out of his face before he rubbed the heel of his hand over his suddenly tired eyes. If it weren't for the fact that they were three hours from Raccoon City he'd just order a damn pizza and be done with it. Because he sure as hell didn't feel like taking over mess duty now that Chaosia had locked herself away to pout and work.

Btu he couldn't really blame her. She'd been looking forward to this for weeks and with everything that was going on at the Coroner's office he knew she wasn't going to get a lot of chances for them to be together as a family until months after she was awarded her newest doctorates. Quiet footsteps made him turn, his eyes falling on Wesker as the man padded into the room to stand just on the other side of the small round dinette table.

Wesker had changed out of his slacks and into a pair of well worn jeans, the denim pooling around his socked feet while his dark blue crew necked shirt was tucked into the waistband. He'd pushed the sleeves to his elbows and had actually forgone his sunglasses now that the others were gone. Letting Bastian see the eerily light, intelligent blue eyes taking in every detail of the kitchen as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

Bastian raised a brow, watching the Captain survey the room for a few long moments before he sighed and turned back to washing the potatoes as he shook his head. He'd brought the man up here to unwind, to try and get him to lighten up before whatever invisible burdens he shouldered suffocated any potential for him to enjoy his life . . . He'd even confessed to Chris-in a drunken stupor he could totally deny should the man forget his promise of secrecy-that he'd hoped the man might actually find a friend in his sister.

The two shared a love of knowledge, an almost innate hatred of crowds and people in general and seemed to crave quiet and privacy. He'd hoped once he forced them together that Chaosia's more personable side would come to light. And that she could help him give the man standing awkwardly in their kitchen someone other than himself and the other members of STARs to connect to.

But now he realized how stupid that particular hope had been. Chaosia was going to be hurt for the next few weeks over Khail's stupid judgment call- and honestly with how eager he'd been to pack and get out the door he was a little pissed and hurt right about now. So expecting her to be cheerful or even personable for the next two days was out of the question.

Wesker sighed, making him turn just as the man stepped up to stand beside him; looking over the bowls in the sink in unveiled interest. Bastian grinned mentally, counting down the seconds in his head until the blonde's voice filled the otherwise quiet room. Making him smirk for real as he explained what he was doing. It didn't really surprise him that Wesker hadn't ever seen anyone cook but himself . . . or that he'd obviously never been part of a family dinner. Something that reminded him so much of himself and Khail when their father had first married Millennia.

“What are you doing?”

“Cutting potatoes.”

Wesker sighed again, this time the sound so much heavier than it had before. And Bastian decided as he asked his next question not to take the opportunity to aggravate him any further. He instead parroted the same answer the woman who would become his mother had told him, letting the nostalgia wash over him as his hands sliced through the meat of the vegetable smoothly.

“So I can sauté them. I've got garlic over there that needs to be hulled if you want to help.”

Wesker didn't speak again for a few moments, instead reaching over and picking up the cloves; holding them gingerly as he slowly pulled the husks off of the bulbs. They worked together in quiet for a long while, Wesker seemingly content in the silence while he let himself actually miss his mother for the first time in years. Between his own trials and tribulations with the Rangers, helping keep Khail out of trouble and worrying over Chaosia advancing so quickly in school, pushing past every bar she set for herself and aiming for even higher goals he hadn't had the luxury of just missing Millennia.

He glanced over his shoulder, looking to the worn polaroid tacked on the fridge. His eyes traveled over the smiling faces printed on the paper, his mother's warm light blue eyes gazing blindly back at his as she rested her head on the top of Chaosia's then chin length messy tousled curls. His mom was dressed in a simple white daydress while Chaos was in a peachy pink cardigan and white lacy top. Khail was to their left, his hair spiked haphazardly; the longer tendrils hitting his shoulders and neck as his black band tee shirt was plainly visible. And his younger self was to the right, dressed in a dark button down with his hair pushed back away from his face; the ends barely brushing the middle of his neck as he smiled to the camera.

“When was that taken?”

He shook himself, turning back to see Wesker had stilled beside him; his own eyes on the same small picture that was nestled in the sea of other photos. Bastian smiled, turning back to slicing as he explained the situation; keeping his eyes on the blade as he spoke and Wesker listened.

“I'd just graduated from high school two years early. Mom decided to celebrate and we all went out to eat at a restaurant that a friend of hers owned. All night people were in and out, congratulating our family while Khail and Chaos picked on me. But Mom just smiled and laughed the whole time, separating us and making us pose when they came out with the camera. This was only a year before she died . . .”

Wesker nodded, depositing his clean hulled garlic in the almost empty bowl for him to cut before reaching out and grabbing a hand towel. As he wiped the garlic from his hands he spoke again, his voice softer than Bastian had ever heard it.

“She was beautiful.”

Bastian grinned, nodding as he tossed the last potato into the bowl before moving on to the garlic. He halved the cloves, mixing the two together before depositing them in the large copper sauté pan; drizzling truffle oil over the top as he placed the pan on the burner.

“She really was . . . but the best thing about her was how she was, you know? She worked as an art teacher for a public school, but she had a Masters in Education and two Bachelors-one in art history and the other in musical theory. After the divorce-and how bad my asshole of a father drug her through the mud- it was about all she could do. But I remember no matter what she always made sure there was music, books and art in the house- even when doing that meant she was sacrificing something she might've really needed. And she was always so fucking calm about everything-the divorce, Father's new gold digging wife occasionally starting trouble, even her getting sick. She never let anything bother her unless someone was messing with one of us.”

A muffled growl carried from the study, causing both of them to turn before Bastian chuckled and shook his head. Apparently Chaosia had hit the proverbial brick wall for a while. Wesker raised a brow before turning back to him just as they heard something collide with a wall. Hard.

“Your sister obviously favors her.”

Bastian looked up at him, ready to tell him he was insane when he noticed the rare smirk tugging at the corner of the man's lips before he laughed; shaking his head as Wesker chuckled. And as they heard something collide with the far wall their laughter only increased. Soon enough both were laughing hard enough that they were leaning against the corner, Bastian near tears as Wesker's deep baritone echoed off the walls.

A few seconds later Chaosia came out, looking them over critically before she shook her head; throwing the brick portable phone at him before she growled. Bastian composed himself as he looked to the phone in his hands, perplexed to see it was; and-judging from the steadily blinking little red light- muted.

“Uh . . . what's going little sister?”

She crossed her arms, turning her head in a huff as she snorted; her eyes locked hard on the door frame as she spoke through clenched teeth. Which meant she was reigning in that absolutely horrid little temper of hers. But as she clenched her fists-her knuckles cracking loudly from the sheer pressure- he knew she was about two seconds from going off. Bastian was suddenly reminded of the temper tantrums she'd thrown during her early childhood as she enunciated every word, her jaw tight as she refused to look into the kitchen. But she hadn't been this angry in years . . . Actually the only time they even saw her get mad anymore was when Khail would push her buttons or do something particularly heinous-oh . . .

“He has some nerve, Bastian. Some fucking nerve! He up and leaves, abandons us to go off and flitter through the fucking woods with his little two-bit girlfriend. Then he keeps calling to ask me why I didn't stop working on my thesis to come say bye to them . . . and now he wants us to stop-drop everything and pack our asses in the car to go up there to help them. I mean really?!”

Bastian blinked, both Wesker and him straightening as he furrowed his brows. He pushed away from the counter, setting the phone down on the table as he crossed to his sister; gathering her up in a loose hug as she sagged against him. And when she rested her head against his chest he felt the tears he hadn't noticed before. Shit. She was crying . . . his baby sister was crying. Because his baby brother was an idiot. He sighed, pushing his fingers through her hair slowly as she wrapped her arms around his middle.

“What did he say oh Chaotic one?”

She snorted again at the old nickname, burying her face in his shirt as she shrugged; her voice muffled as she hugged him a little tighter. But he knew she was close to smiling. Their mother had always insisted she'd named her perfectly . . . because Chaosia was-more often than not- the indirect catalyst for some type of trouble or havoc.

Which was usually antagonizing Khail like any dutiful younger sibling.

“Apparently they got a flat and they're more than a mile from the site they had picked to camp at. And your friend Forest unpacked Chris's jack and left it here when they were trying to make room for Khail's shit.”

Bastian sighed, leaning back as he cupped her face. She wasn't full out bawling yet, just a few stray tears and a chapped bottom lip where she'd been worrying it. He glanced back to Wesker before looking back to his sister, watching her catch sight of Wesker looking them over perplexedly as her cheeks stained dark red. He bit his lip, trying not to snicker before he reached over and picked the phone back up. He needed to see what was going on . . . and see what they wanted him to do.

“Khail? Are you still there?”

“Yeah. Is she still spazing out? Cause I gotta tell ya Bastian she just flipped on me for nothing-“

He rolled his eyes, not even giving Khail time to finish his sentence. The two of them were definitely going to have to have to chat. Again. Because while he was happy Khail had found someone but damn it he was going to have to learn to prioritize . . . or one of the two of them was going to end up killing him.

“Yeah well she just took time off to spend time with us and to meet Wesker. And you jumped on the opportunity to run out as fast you could, bitching and whining about how bored you were almost as soon as you got through the door. After she went and got the stuff to fix your favorite dinner so we could spend time with her. You know before she goes to work full time at the morgue on top of going to school and starts pulling vampire hours again.”

“Oh . . . damn it. She didn't say anything! When she started to get all moody I just thought the crimson tide had rolled in and- Is she mad?”

Bastian rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he stepped away from Chaosia. God he was going to beat Khail to death one day. Even though he'd promised their mother he wouldn't, he was going to kill him. Or his little sister, who was standing just behind him-and edging further away from Wesker now that he had stepped closer- was going to beat him to it.

He snorted mentally, trying to turn his mind back to the matter at hand. If Khail died it would be him that killed him, not Chaos. He'd served in the Rangers and dealt with Wesker-who was usually about to shoot either Chris or Forest- on a daily basis. Prison would be a breeze. Besides she had Graduate school to finish and doctorates to use. No need for her to rot because their brother was an idiot.

“Nah, Khail. She's perfectly fucking happy. What do you think genius? But we'll talk about that later. Now let me talk to Chris.”

He heard the phone change hands scant seconds before Redfield's voice flooded the phone. And it didn't really make him feel any better to hear that his friend sounded almost as frazzled as he did. He sighed, running a hand over his face in aggravation as he heard Chris snap at Claire and Khail again.

“I swear Claire this is all your fault. Yes it is. Because you told Forest to just leave it instead of trying to make room that's why. And he's your boyfriend.”

Bastian winced, hearing the extra bite added to the last word. If anyone else had talked about Khail like that they would end up in traction . . . but he could understand where Chris was coming from. Hell he felt bad for whoever was dumb enough to try and date Chaosia.

“Hey Chris. What do you need?”

Chris sighed and as the noise from the others started to fade he knew he'd walked away from the group to speak.

“Other than a damned chastity belt for her and muzzle for him? A bottle of Jack and a straight razor.”

Bastian grinned, trying not to laugh at how damned despondent he sounded. God they must be driving him insane. Chris however continued, unaware his sympathetic ear was nearly choking on his own giggles.

“I swear! From the time we lit out man. Its been one thing after another. From Khail and Forest arguing over bikes to Jill getting pissed at me over putting Forest between them. To this shit. And then to find out the jack's at your damn house. I'm about to shoot something, Shaw. I just don't know whose gonna get hit first. Just bring the jack will you?”

Bastian nodded, choking back a sputter of laughter before he spoke; careful to keep his voice neutral and controlled.

“Yeah . . . look man. I'll uh-yeah, man. I can do that if you need me to. You guys need anything else? Other than weapons, medieval contraceptives and alcohol?”

Wesker and Chaosia both turned to him, twin looks of confusion before his sister blinked and shook her head; shuddering as she hugged herself.

“Oh God. I don't want to know. Don't tell me, Bastian. I fucking mean it.”

Chris snorted over the phone.

“Yeah, just hurry. Or we're gonna bury a body before we go home.”

Bastian paled, moving to grab his coat and keys as Chaosia gave him a questioning almost accusing look. He shrugged, sliding into the coat as he shifted the phone from one hand to the other. And Chris's response to his plea made him move just a little faster. He sounded damn serious about all of this. Goddamnit he was going to kill his brother! Why couldn't he behave?

“Yeah man. I'm hurrying. Just calm down and don't kill anyone. Okay Redfield?”

“No promises.”

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