|To the land of no return, the land of darkness...|
TerraSave is a relatively new organization, not as militaristic as the B.S.A.A. Its mission to help with recovery after a bioterrorism incident has drawn a diverse crew, both military and civilian. The sheer scale of the incident in Kijuju has necessitated innumerable resources and collaboration between the affected countries and territories, the B.S.A.A., and various other non-governmental organizations. A good three weeks after the incident, the region is finally stabilizing, though scattered pockets of Plagas and Uroboros infestation remain. In addition to clearing the remaining B.O.W.s, the B.S.A.A. is extracting the kidnapped test subjects from the underground research facility and investigating Wesker’s laboratory in Kijuju. The area that leads out towards the oil fields and surrounding swamps has become a place for the B.S.A.A. and TerraSave to strategize together.
This is where Sheva meets Claire Redfield, Chris’s sister. There has already been talk amongst the older B.S.A.A. agents about how Wesker would have to face the little sister’s wrath. After seeing Claire in person, this is not hard to believe. Twelve years have passed since her travel to Raccoon City during it’s famous epidemic to find her brother. The only thing keeping her from him this time is the fact that she doesn’t know where he is, but that hadn’t been enough to deter her in the past.
Doug wolf-whistles when he catches sight of her talking furiously on the phone, obviously having a heated exchange with whoever is on the other end. “Remind me to not get on her bad side. Speaking of, shouldn’t we get to the debriefing?”
“Don’t let her hear. We’ll have to escort her,” Josh whispers, only half-joking, “I don’t need that stress in my life.”
“We’re B.S.A.A.. We’re going to have that stress in our life no matter what,” Sheva points out.
“I can handle monsters and outbreaks. But angry little sisters? No. Not enough pay for that.”
“You know, we can call Jill, ask her if he’s up for a reunion.”
“And then, you can tell her about that one cafe that serves the best coffee but only seats you if there are two people,” Doug says, oblivious to Josh’s glare. “I’m just saying, it’s a lovely place, and you never know, cute lady like that...”
“She’ll need the coffee after--”
“I said no!”
“Captain Stone!” Claire walks up and catches the men unaware during their squabbling. “I’m Claire Redfield from TerraSave. I heard...” She shifts on her feet, her formality gone. “Is my brother ok?”
That’s not a loaded question at all.
“He’s recovering, Ms. Redfield. We don’t have any more news on him yet,” Josh answers evasively. It is the truth. They don’t know what’s going on with Chris, other than that he was admitted to the West Africa B.S.A.A.’s medical facility. Affini, the director of the European division, had dropped by earlier before leaving again, hopefully back to Europe. Rumor has it that they sent The Nurse to deal with him. No one would be stupid enough to linger after a dressing-down from her.
A crossed expression immediately appears on Claire’s face. “Captain, I know you all have work to do, but if you can point me to where my brother is, that’d help me out.”
“I can give you Jill’s new number,” Sheva gives Claire her most affable smile and a handshake while the two men slowly back away, intimidated. “Sheva Alomar. I worked with Jill Valentine to recover your brother.”
Claire pales a bit at the word “recover.” Josh motions for Doug to keep quiet, leaving Claire in Sheva’s capable hands.
Jill knows that Claire isn’t about to stop calling her, but she has a number of other pressing problems to deal with right now. When she asked Chris earlier about allowing Claire to visit, he’d gone quiet.
“I can’t…” He’d looked up at her skittishly. “She doesn’t...she doesn’t even know about the general discharge, about Clay, or anything else. I couldn’t keep her from what Umbrella was doing back then, but...I can’t let her see me like this. Not like this.”
She understands where Chris is coming from. If only she could convey that to Claire without revealing too much about what happened. Chris’s first instinct is to protect Claire by keeping things from her, even though this tactic has backfired in the past, landing her in trouble in Raccoon City then Rockfort Island. Claire has always done her best to keep up with Chris, but if she doesn’t yet know about what happened to him in the Air Force…
“Valentine,” she forces her attention back to the video conference with the B.S.A.A. top brass. After the fiasco with O’Brian and the FBC Chairman a few years back, the B.S.A.A. leadership was reformed as an executive committee consisting of the heads of the various regional branches, in lieu of having a single person calling the shots. It has made the B.S.A.A. slightly more impervious to influence by the pharmaceutical conglomerates funding it. However, it also means that meetings involving the top brass take three times as long.
Especially when the subject of discussion is Chris.
“Yes, I heard you.” She glances at the data they are going over at this meeting. Many of the images and files are disturbing, detailing everything that happened to her as Tricell’s guinea pig. Worse are the files on Chris that have only recently been corroborated with what was found at Wesker’s lab.
“Do you have anything to add?”
She inhales deeply. There is no reason to get angry at them. There had been plenty of other times where unexpected betrayals led to catastrophe. Even the Secret Service was rocked by treachery a few years ago, resulting in an international incident involving the Los Illuminados cult in Spain and the Plagas. But to have someone use Wesker’s data to say that Chris betrayed them? Not going to fly.
It’s why she wishes Chris would be willing see Claire, or at least someone besides Jill and the medical staff. It would at least give her a chance to rage.
“Only my continued protest over the decision to even entertain the idea that someone who was being raped repeatedly for two months would betray our organization to the very person doing this to him. Or that he chose to be experimented on and used by the man he spent ten years trying to bring to justice.”
“Valentine--” the head of the B.S.A.A. North America division starts, but she’s already riled up.
“No, I’m seriously confused by this...this...victim blaming tactic that you’re using on him when--”
“Jill,” Clive O’Brian tries to calm her. While she hates that he’s here, a part of her is glad for it. After dealing with his own demons, he has taken on a more Columbo-esque attitude that she finds grounding. “Everyone, please calm down. Let me try to get the facts straight. The files we have from the investigators at the plane’s crash site, as well as the audio from Agent Alomar and Captain Valentine’s recording equipment, support that Redfield was not acting in conjunction with Wesker. The point of this investigation is to rule out the possibility that he might have done so, and to look into the possibility that he was compromised in some other way during his two months of captivity.” There are murmurs of agreement. “Why would he give in to Wesker of all people?”
Silence greets his question. Jill can’t help but feel vindicated by the lack of reasoning behind their accusations.
“Redfield was no doubt seriously harmed by these events, but there is nothing to suggest that he has been compromised. Jill? Did you notice anything that might suggest he was...won over...by Wesker?”
“Nothing,” Jill tells them. A few of the detractors look rather deflated now that O’Brian is on her side. “He’s doing his best to recover.”
Inky tendrils wind around Wesker’s arm and torso, terminating in a glowing orange mass set into the center of his chest. Thicker tentacles entangle Chris’s arms and legs. He struggles in vain as his arms are pulled behind his back and his legs are forced apart. Wesker leans down, breath hot against his rapidly growing cock.
“You did well, my Chris,” Wesker whispers, licking a long stripe up his cock then going back down and briefly sucking on his balls. More of the tendrils move over his chest. A few blossom open like lattice work and begin to squeeze his nipples. He gasps at the sensation of having so much done to him again, but knowing it’s Wesker...
NO! No, it’s not! Stop! Don’t...no...please no more, no more!
Lube-coated fingers are exchanged for a tentacle that shoves into him far too deeply. He screams himself hoarse as it pulses and pushes something large and egg-shaped into him. His knees are pushed against his chest to open him for more egg-shaped things to be deposited. His back arches with each intrusion.
“My lovely little slut.” Clay’s face appears through the mass of black tentacles he has become. The man who should be dead grabs a fistful of Chris’s hair to pull his head backwards in order to start thrusting into his mouth.
“Your captain will treat you well,” Wesker whispers against his neck before shoving in alongside the tentacle in his ass. He tries to cry out but can’t, too busy choking on Clay’s cock. They all begin to move, filling him on both ends and--
He wakes with a start, the restraints on his wrists agitating him further. He struggles and screams incoherently until he eventually registers the familiar voice and a hand on his shoulder, softer and smaller than the others.
“Chris, it was just a nightmare. He doesn’t have you. I promise. You’re at the hospital. You’ll be ok. You’re safe. Chris, breathe,” the voice says soothingly.
Tamping down the feeling of sheer terror, he focuses on the voice and the hand rubbing his shoulder. It’s Jill. She’s at the hospital with him. He’s safe. He’s shivering and...
Oh no... No...
He’s hard. He dreamed about being raped and that made him...
“Chris, breathe with me. Relax. I’m going to take off the restraints now.” He feels lightheaded and numb as she does, shuddering as her hands pass above his lap that is thankfully covered by a blanket. He wants her to leave so he can deal with it himself, but he’s afraid. Ever since he ended up in Wesker’s clutches, the touch of anything other than Wesker no longer elicited a pleasure response. Now, he’s gotten a hard-on from dreams of a Uroboros-infested Wesker, and…
“Chris, focus on me.”
He closes his eyes, ashamed that he’s not shaking from cold, but from arousal. The last time he saw his eyes in the bathroom mirror, the irises are still red around the edges, bleeding into the natural brown color and making it close to maroon. There is no way that she’ll want to see that and be reminded of how much he has given in, that he’s panicking because he got turned on by a dream about his sick captor...
“My lovely little slut...” A slut for two captains now… At least Wesker didn’t say he’s going to give you something and then slapped you in the face for it like Clay… No, he just decided to screw you raw, wet, and covered in--
“CHRIS,” Jill’s insistent voice makes him open his eyes. Her hand on his chin keeps him from turning away. Not daring to make eye contact, he aimlessly searches for something else to focus on. The sparsely-furnished hospital room contains only a chair, a bedside table, a privacy curtain, and the bathroom door. After a long moment, he hesitantly looks back at Jill, whose steady gaze has remained on his face. “I’m not going to leave you because of what happened. None of it was your fault.”
“Dreaming that he still has me, that he’s…” The numbness and lightheadedness come back again, rendering him unable to string a sentence together, but she somehow guesses what he is trying to say. Her eyes briefly dart down and her face turns as red as Claire’s hair.
For some reason, her reaction snaps him out of it and makes him laugh bitterly. “What are you embarrassed about?”
“You just had a panic attack for, like, half an hour and you’ve still got an erection, Chris, what the actual hell?”
His face heats up, though more from how she phrased things. He looks away when she releases his chin.
“It’s...it’s my problem.”
“I want to say you’re right, but...Chris, what’s really going on?”
He debates trying to jack off so that she’ll be forced to leave him alone, but her obvious worry makes him try to explain, despite how humiliating the whole thing is.
“Wesker said that...the…” He curses his inability speak without stuttering over every word. “Wesker said that what they gave me means I...that I can’t…” he makes an aborted motion towards his lap, “without...Wesker.”
Jill is quiet for a long moment. “So...do you want me to…try...?”
He shakes his head immediately, and is upset at himself for refusing without a second thought. He loves Jill. Before everything went to hell, he’d wanted to be with her as much as he’d wanted to be with Wesker. They tried a few times, before and after Raccoon City, but they’ve always felt better as friends. The last time was after the fiasco with the FBC, before what happened at Spencer’s mansion. But to just…
“Chris, you don’t have to apologize,” she reassures him, even though he’d just basically told her that he wasn’t interested...
“I fucking hate this. I hate it. I fucked up and now...now...” He rubs his wrists. The hospital restraints are soft and not nearly as tight as what Wesker used, but they must have reminded him enough to bring about that nightmare. He regrets his earlier escape attempt more than ever. After his first week at the medical facility, the researchers had shown up with their fancy equipment to do tests on him. For some reason, he lost it at the sight of them and bolted, though he didn't make it far. When he was brought back, he was put in restraints to prevent any further attempts to run off. Ever since then, the restraints have stayed on unless there is someone directly supervising him. No amount of pleading to the medical staff or promises of good behavior have done any good. They only give him pitying looks, which he hates even more, and tell him it’s an order from the higher-ups.
“I can’t believe I was only there for two months... I can barely trust that you got me out of there...”
Jill reaches over to lightly pinch his arm. When his brows knit together in confusion, she smiles at him, “You need to know you’re awake, right?”
“Thanks,” he says, and means it. Jill’s known him for a long time. She is the first person he opened up to about what happened with Clay, but Wesker was able figure out so much on his own...
“My old squadron, are they…”
“They’re all fine from what we know. To be extra sure, we’re going to get a visual confirmation on all of them.”
The look in her eyes gets him to sigh. “No.”
“Chris, for fuck’s sake--”
“You don’t deserve a general discharge! You don’t deserve that on your record. Billy Cohen was recently exonerated and you’re not going to fight your general? He was up for execution, Chris.”
“And his testimony, corroborated by Rebecca, got him the full pardon. It also helped with the government’s case against Umbrella. Dredging up my general discharge will only make people question my old team. It’s won’t do any good, especially not when Clay’s already dead.”
She doesn’t argue, though she is probably itching to. A general discharge made his return to Raccoon City easy, mostly because - he’d only learned recently - Clay sabotaged all his other efforts to keep a job. Wesker and Barry were able to see through the lies, though Chris wonders how much of that was because of his own failure. After getting kicked out of the Air Force, he’d rehearsed what he planned to say over and over until it was second nature, just in case anyone asked about the general discharge, but it hadn’t been enough.
“Not good enough,” Wesker said coldly. “Either I get one name or they’re all at fault.”
It’s been nearly a month since they got him out of the madman’s clutches, and a week since his sister tried to visit him. Being able to see a clock, sleep in a bed, and eat three square meals a day still feels weird, as if it could be taken away at any moment.
One of the nurses whose name escapes him comes in and goes about her normal routine. Eventually, Jill gets a message on her PDA.
“I gotta go. They’ve found something.”
He wants to go with her. He hates being in the hospital, hates having to go back into the restraints. However, he’s also leery of going out and suddenly mutating, or worse, running into Wesker again. If that happens, can he kill Wesker?
And if it turns out you do need him?
He looks up at the ceiling, cursing that dark, inner voice that continues to torment him. It doesn’t matter. If this turns out to be something that is beyond his ability to handle, he’ll put a bullet in his own head.