Resident Evil Series Fan Fiction ❯ Uncontrolled Exposure ❯ Chapter 12

Returns

June 1996

Albert Wesker sighed as Raccoon City came into view, almost crowing in joy as he spotted the tell-tale buildings and lights. He turned, seeing Bastian start to visibly relax as well and knew that the man mirrored his sentiment. Whatever in the hell had possessed them to attempt any sort of retreat with STARS was beyond him . . . but he'd damn well learned his lesson.

He was never going anywhere if the words retreat, vacation, relaxation and fun were anywhere in the offer. Because he'd learned all of those words were merely hopeful synonyms for torture and agony. Not to mention the recipe for furthering insanity.

He shifted, settling deeper into the plush seat of the Land Rover; fighting the urge to grind his teeth when Bastian's voice filled the otherwise quiet cabin. Broaching a topic he desperately wanted left alone. His head was just now beginning not to pound and Albert wasn't above admitting that he was not fairing his first hangover well. At all.

“Well, we're almost in the city limits now . . . Are you actually going to tell me what happened last night or do I get to guess?”

God he wasn't ever going to look at alcohol with Shaw again much less partake. The idiot had tried to fucking kill him! And his damned sister had almost succeeded. But even knowing that he was going to have Birkin go and look over her theses-to give the extra little push to get her accredited if she needed it.

He snorted, looking out the window as he tried not to sulk; squinting as the late afternoon sun blared at him through the windows and tinted lenses of his glasses. As much hassle as he knew it could-would be he still wanted to see her take the position of assistant ME. If he had a way to keep tabs on the activities within the morgue-which was controlled ever so thoroughly by Dr. Connors- then it would make his life so much simpler. If he wasn't trying to stay ten steps ahead of both the local police force and any exterior agencies Connors could try to call then he wouldn't be anywhere near as hassled. He just had to find a way to repair the damage he'd unintentionally caused over the weekend. He closed his eyes, fighting off the wave of nausea trying to build. Had the sun always been so blasted bright? He clicked his tongue, pushing the bile back down his throat as he spoke. Speaking his mind with certainty.

“Nothing happened. She overreacted.”

Bastian just raised a brow at him before nodding sagely, turning his eyes back to the road as the mile markers ticked off the ever decreasing distance to their home. As soon as he was in the city limits he was going to acquire his car and go straight to his home. And then he was going to sleep until his shift the following morning.

“Okay, fine. You know she'll tell me eventually right? So if you tried something stupid you'd best get it out in the open now while I'm in a good mood-“

“I didn't attempt anything Shaw. It was a mere misunderstanding-one she blew completely out of proportion.”

“Yeah well you're lucky the others were so stone drunk they didn't hear the screams and crashes. Or that Khail and Claire had gone off for one last walk around the lake. Because my little brother and sister may aggravate one another to death but he'd kill you for what I walked in on.”

Wesker turned, glaring at Shaw through his sunglasses hard enough to make the man actually fidget in seat. He however continued, some of the teasing back to his tone.

“Last chance, Captain.”

He snorted, turning back towards the city passing behind the glass. Pointedly ignoring the imploring look and questioning tone of his subordinate. The man had caused enough trouble for him over the weekend and he would be damned if he was going to tell him anything. Besides he doubted Chaosia would either . . . seeing as in she was just as private as he was.

He reached up, rubbing his eyes before letting the glasses fall back into place; hissing to himself as the light still managed to hit him. Christ if he ever drank again then he needed his head examined.

Why did the others do this to themselves?

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One week later Chaosia Shaw stood before the review committee, trying not to fidget as the seven members reviewed her last thesis. She'd already been notified the day before that they had chosen to accept her Forensic Psychology dissertation-meaning that once the rigmarole of paperwork was completed she would at least have that PhD to tack behind her name with the other. And while she'd known that the decision had been made insanely fast she wasn't going to argue; just content that her work in the arena hadn't been for naught. But something about the way these people kept looking from her samples to her, whispering and conversing between themselves made her feel wary.

They'd already questioned her for nearly an hour, making the standard interview run nearly twice as long. And while she could see they were truly trying to grasp what she'd researched-what she was claiming had been accomplished with this viral strain and probably others like it-it was easy to see they weren't happy about her findings.

Finally she straightened, trying to keep herself from glaring. If they were going to deny her thesis then they needed to go ahead and do it. And stop wasting her time. She went to speak when Dr. Elliott Martin-the eldest board member spoke, his voice silencing the others.

“Dr. Shaw . . . It is an extraordinary benefit for a researcher to devote themselves to a cause so thoroughly that they see the minute details others consistently overlook. The others on this board and myself all wish you were intent to pursue true medical and pharmaceutical research over your chosen field.”

Chaosia raised a brow, dumfounded at what he was saying. Surely he was joking right? She wet her lips, clearing her throat as she tried to keep her composure.

“I am not sure I understand you're statement, Dr. Martin. I am a forensic pathologist-I was when I began my additional graduate studies.”

He nodded, almost like he was placating a child before he spoke again. But this time his voice had an edge-one she would have to work harder to ignore if she wanted to survive this unscathed. She didn't understand what he was trying to accomplish but she wouldn't be part of it.

“I am well aware, of that Dr. Shaw. But I would hate to see such an intellect wither within the crypt of Raccoon Morgue. Surely your talents would be better used studying live viruses rather than samples? After our perusal of your thesis-of the degree of commitment and attention to detail- my superiors within Umbrella have instructed me to offer you an invitation. Accept it and you will have your own lab, staff and the means to properly track the changes and advances you've been studying. It is . . . a once in a lifetime opportunity. One rarely awarded to one so young.”

She raised a brow, fighting back a snort even as the shock filtered through her system. She'd known Martin was one of the older research instructors within the university but she'd never guessed he worked primarily for Umbrella. Who had decided to send him into her doctoral interview as a headhunter. She blinked, shaking her head as she kindly refused his offer.

“I am sorry Dr. Martin but I must decline. I chose my profession for personal reasons; though be sure to tell your superiors that I graciously thank them for the invitation. It is flattering beyond belief.”

Martin looked her over, eyes narrowed before he nodded; grinning sagely as the others around him whispered and talked. God they sounded like snakes hissing to one another.

“I assumed as much. Well, while it saddens me I will not hinder your progression. I can only ask you to remember, you always have a place within Umbrella should you desire it.”

She stilled, holding her breath as he nodded to her; glancing to the other six around him before giving her a warm smile.

“It is with great pleasure that we accept your dissertation on biogenetic viral manipulation and the progression of said disease. Congratulations Dr. Shaw.”

Chaosia blinked, drawing in a stuttering breath as she nodded. She thanked the board, accepting their thanks and congratulations before she moved into the hallway. And as soon as the heavy wooden doors closed behind her she sagged against them, covering her mouth with her hands as she closed her eyes.

Oh dear God she was done . . . she was done with school!

She straightened, pulling her cell phone from her blazer pocket and dialing a number she knew by heart. As soon as she heard the familiar voice she couldn't keep herself from smiling, her voice nearly ecstatic as she practically laughed into the phone.

“Dr. Connors?! You told me to call as soon as the interview was over? Well I hereby accept the position. When do you want me to start?”

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William Birkin grinned as he moved from the side entrance to the conference room, whistling to himself as he pushed through the door and out into the hallway. He'd thought Al was losing his mind when he'd called and asked him to facilitate the acceptance of the eager Dr. Shaw's thesis. But he'd agreed on principal alone. He'd fully expected to have to throw around his weight; maybe even contact one of Spencer's familiars and explain the situation-how the girl would finally give them a foothold in the morgue even if it was a tiny one. And that they could hopefully help refine whatever minimal skills she had and bend them to their purpose. Besides, he knew if the kid got her stripes then she would make life easier for his longtime partner . . . and then maybe he might be able to get the man into a lab more than he had in the past half a year.

So when he'd strolled into Dr. Martin's office two days before, requesting to review the girl's work he'd never expected to actually be impressed. The girl was thorough and meticulous in her research, documenting even the smallest changes and using them to further explain her reasoning. With an untrained eye she'd been able to spot the rings that announced the genetic tampering and with little to no extensive comprehension of the new virus she'd accurately predicted both the contraction rates and methods and the lifespan of the contagion.

And that wasn't even touching the suggestions she'd listed for if the strain were ever weaponized. Though it had been hypothetical she'd been thorough, outlaying possible ways to both improve and destroy the virus should someone succeed where these other labs were trying. All in all it was intriguing to see . . . and almost depressing that she was choosing to stay in the fucking morgue.

He shrugged, pushing his hair out of his face as he made his way towards the exit. He'd tell Albert that he threw in his two cents but he had a feeling that Wesker had known it wouldn't be necessary. Which made this a silent warning for him to be careful. A skilled viral pathologist working under Connors could cause trouble.

Especially since the old cow had a degrading sample of his baby's earlier stage.

Birkin rolled his eyes, pushing through the door and towards his car. He was off to run Al's errand so he might as well go liberate Sherry from school. And then they were going to visit her favorite Uncle. If he wasn't already out to lunch with his new friends. William snorted to himself, feeling his mood sour. He knew it was necessary for Albert to stay beneath the radar but he didn't particularly care for the amount of time he spent around the other officers-one in particular.

Birkin reached out to unlock his car when he froze, his mind finally forging the connection and filling in the blank that had nagged him since Wesker had called. He'd been racking his brain trying to remember why the name Shaw was so familiar. And now he finally knew.

Dr. Chaosia Shaw. The youngest sibling of STARS resident profiler Bastian Shaw- Albert Wesker's closest teammate within his merry little band of idiots. Birkin groaned, opening the door and sinking into the seat; letting his head fall to the steering wheel with a thud. Al had actually helped someone out-with very little to benefit himself.

Fucking hell . . . what was being around these retards doing to his friend?!

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Bastian moved through the main work area of the STARS office, trying to get to his desk as fast as he could. He'd just come up from the firing range-where he'd spent nearly three hours trying to teach Vickers how to shoot something other than a shotgun- only to be cornered by Speyer in the hallway, the man asking him for Chaosia's number for the seventh time in the last week. And as soon as he'd gotten away-claiming that his sister was for all intents and purposes as gay as the day was long just so the idiot would quit asking-he'd come into the room to find his phone ringing off the hook.

God he hated having to be acting Captain while Wesker was in meetings and Barry was off. He wasn't paid enough for this shit-he was just supposed to be the profiler and back up negotiator. Not a fucking babysitter, a mediator of disputes or even a goddamn dating service for Forest's stupid ass. What was it with that idiot and hitting on his teammate's sisters?

Hadn't the alchemy shot taught him anything?!

He sagged into his seat, reaching out to grab the phone just as he looked over the million multicolored notes on his desk. Almost every single one of them was from Speyer and Vickers . . . and the only ones that weren't were from Redfield. He picked up the sloppily written blue-Chris's- his eyes widening before he shook his head.

Christ on a cracker, really?!

He picked up the phone, nearly barking into the receiver as he grumbled.

“Shaw.”

“Bastian? Is something wrong? I-I can always call back later.”

He sighed, running a hand down his face before he grimaced; scratching his cheek ruefully. He needed to shave. Badly . . . his stubble was almost as long as Chris's now. And that was something he couldn't abide.

“Nah, Chaos its fine. I just got a weird message. Apparently Chris had to take off to go check on Claire. Her bike broke down on her way back to school.”

“Why didn't she just call Khail?”

Bastian rolled his eyes, snorting as he kicked his feet up and onto his desk; rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. They both knew why the girl hadn't called their brother . . . and it had to do with the fact that he'd harped at her for four days about how her precious bike wasn't going to make it back to their university.

“Cause pride's a bitch, little sister. What did you need?”

She grew quiet for a few moments before she spoke again, her voice overflowing with excitement. But he had to raise a brow at what she proposed.

“Well see that's just it. I wanted to see if you were free for lunch. I have some pretty big news . . . if Captain Jackass hasn't already ruined my surprise.”

He glanced to his watch before shrugging, kicking his feet off his desk as he started gathering his things. It was right at noon so he could clock out and leave. But he couldn't help feeling-as he agreed to meet Chaos at the bar down the block-that he was forgetting something.

“Yeah. Meet me at O' Flanagan's in like ten minutes okay?”

“You don't want me to come to the station? We can take the Chevelle-“

“NO! I-I'll just meet you there. I don't have too long to eat okay? It'll work better if I meet you.”

She sounded confused but agreed, her voice wavering ever so slightly. But he didn't want to have to deal with Speyer again. The idiot was grating on his last fragile nerve . . . and if he came right out and asked Chaosia out he'd have to kill him. He rolled his eyes, wondering just why the man had decided to start all of this now.

Probably retribution for something.

“Uh-okay . . . I'll just meet you there. Love you.”

He nodded, moving to drop the phone back into the cradle; barely getting the words out before he hung up.

“Love you too, brat. See you in a sec.”

He shrugged into his coat, flicking his keys over his fingers as he turned to leave. Only to come face to face with Wesker, the Captain's brow raised over the rim of his dark tinted sunglasses. He faltered before regaining his composure, giving the man a smile as he went to step around him. But when Wesker moved to follow, walking with him out of the office and into the main portion of the precinct Bastian had to wonder what was going on.

“Uh Wesker, sir? Everything okay?”

Wesker nodded, reaching up and smoothing a hand over his hair; both of them passing through the last set of doors before the lobby at the same time.

“Everything is fine, Shaw. Chief Irons just wants me to go to the Coroner's Office before returning to the precinct. I think this is the first time I've told the man I was leaving for lunch that he didn't have something sarcastic to intone.”

Bastian nodded, the two of them moving towards the parking garage at a fairly brisk pace.

“I hear that. You meeting your friend for lunch? Or is it a hot date, huh?”

Wesker stopped, tilting his head to where Bastian could see his disbelieving eyes staring at him over the rims of his glasses. The man narrowed his eyes, his lips tugging down at the sides.

“Please tell me this is some poor attempt at humor, Shaw.”

Bastian looked at him like he was crazy, stuffing his hands in his coat pocket as he shook his head. Wesker sighed, rolling his eyes before sliding his glasses back up his nose; tsking at him as he almost growled.

“Oh that is just wonderful. You honestly forgot we were supposed to eat? It is Thursday, Shaw. The day you usually insist on dragging me to endure those infernal wings and whatever alcoholic malt beverage you can get your hands on.”

Bastian blinked before paling, groaning as he ran his hand down his face. With everything going on between trying to show Vickers how to shoot and avoiding Speyer he'd completely forgotten . . . and now he was supposed to meet Chaosia in-he glanced to his watch-four minutes. He sighed, motioning towards his car.

“Jesus. Sorry boss. It's been a day but I think you already know that. Look Chaosia had some news so I told her I'd meet her. You're more than welcome to join us . . . and I know she's going into work after this so we'll just follow her to the morgue.”

Wesker stilled before nodding, moving to follow him as he shook his head. And Bastian wasn't eve going to comment about the man's griping. He deserved to be ragged a little over forgetting they were supposed to eat. And for inadvertently throwing him and his sister together. He stopped at the back of his Landrover, Wesker continuing on to climb in the passenger side; still grumbling about his absentmindedness.

“Honestly Shaw I am beginning to question my sanity for associating with you.”

Christ he was putting Chaosia and Wesker back together . . . after the two of them had come to such an explosive clash the morning they'd left to come back to Raccoon. He groaned, slapping his forehead before shaking himself; climbing into the car. God today just wasn't his day.

At all.

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