DISCLAIMER: Resident Evil © Capcom
PLOT: Post Resident Evil 5 / Not everything ended in Africa - fates can be forever entwined. Concerning Sherry Birkin, the girl who disappeared.
A/N: I know it can be a long process to wait for updates to this story, and I want to thank you -so much- for your patience and for continuing to follow my story! I appreciate my readers greatly! And I want to thank my reviewers so very much! Your words of encouragement push me to keep writing (fast) whenever I can! I'm glad I can keep you entertained! C:
: The flu will always behave like the flu. There is no hoping that it will ever sway its nature; you just have to sit tight and let the virus run its course. You can't teach an old dog new tricks.
He keeps her away from certain parts of the estate. She doesn't venture into the west wing and he doesn't welcome her into his section of the lab. She wouldn't get in without his authorization, his passcode, and the west wing... she knows better than that. The dark rooms he crawls inside when the viral desperation starts to roil and seethe, a maze of broken parts and shattered pieces; but better a vase than her face they had decided. In any regard, she always had her own places to roam as a child, and he humored her to allow her solitude there now.
At the south end of the grounds there is an old maple tree with branches as thick as her bed, a place that, in her childhood, she had climbed up and played in. Toward the east wing there is an old staircase that spirals up with a cupboard in the wall beneath it, a place she spent winter days holed up in, reading from the light of a single hanging bulb. Also there is her rock, a boulder to be more precise, most likely moved there when the estate had originally been built. Weathered and softened by the elements, it stands before a slope and a break in the woods, overlooking the valley towards the east. He knew it still to be slightly discolored, having endured countless artistic attempts at her hand. She was there now. He knew it with a calculated certainty. She was predictable to him, and he needed her to be. He needed to know her mind to such a degree. He would need such predictability for the next phase of his plan.
He read the email once more with a satisfied glance and reclined in his chair. He wouldn't have the issue of her friend contacting her any longer. Having pried into her contact list and using his system to reroute her mail directly to him first had been absolutely necessary - and had paid off well. Now, when he was ready, he would forward the letter to her and she would react according to plan. According to how he predicted of her. And for the meanwhile he was afforded time to bide until his preparations were complete; until everything was set according to his design...
Sherry Birkin. He mused on her. How strange that the unremarkable daughter of his closest colleague should now become so instrumental. She had always been so dismissible. If it was easy for Birkin to forget her for hours down in the labs, then it was easier for Wesker. Sometimes he forgot her existence entirely. She was of no consequence to the work they did or to the lives they led. He had thought Birkin absurd for entertaining marriage, but the younger man had always been rather eccentric, and it was none of Wesker's business. Whatever encouraged William in the labs. But when Wesker had heard Annette was pregnant... he was downright repulsed. He thought them both fools, blinded by what he imagined they saw simply as conventional family obligations. He blamed Annette and the needs of her sex.
Sherry Birkin. Before the fall of Raccoon City he had only seen her on rare occasion. She was small and unremarkable and easy to put aside and forget. She'd peek out at them covertly with large eyes yearning for their focus, yearning for attention, always yearning. He liked to think of her as the Birkin's pet project. He wondered if they ever regretted her and the time she stole from their work; but he never once asked. It was none of his business. Instead he'd stare back at her, musing, and she'd eventually cow away. She was shy and he intimidated her with his silence and his unreadable gaze. On those rare occasions in the Birkin house, thinking on their unremarkable daughter, back when human tendencies were more pronounced for him, he would sometimes sympathize for her. It was always fleeting.
Sherry Birkin. She had survived the Raccoon City epidemic. He was vaguely amused when he had heard her name mentioned. Any interest he ever had for her was owed entirely to who her parents had been. Even still, it was not her lineage that drove Wesker to attain her, it was the gift Birkin had left for her and what it could potentially do for his research. He had taken her, and that he had kept her for a while after was owed to the novelty of possessing a keepsake of sorts from the past. A memorabilia not so unlike a faded, nostalgic photo. That he had sent her away instead of disposing of her like everything else that ceased to be useful to him... well, again that was owed to the Birkin name. In a way that was his respect for the years he had spent alongside brilliant William. In the end he owed William no animosity, and so he had stayed his hand.
Sherry Birkin. Years were spent without thought on the subject, and suddenly she should return, out of the ashes of his failure, as his greatest asset to his survival; to his continued efforts. So strange. His unrecognized ace-up-the-sleeve. His patience and his mercy had come to pay him back tenfold with this slap in the face. Funny how the unremarkable things so easily overlooked could someday become so very useful. Once again he owed success to the Birkin name. It was a fool who underestimated their worth, and he would be sure to never overlook the Birkin girl's potential again. No, he knew better now. He would be sure to utilize Sherry Birkin properly in his new designs.
Beethoven - Sonata 14 "Mondscheinsonate".