Forward: This story will most likely be around 40+ chapters.
Date: March 30th, 2013
"…Why did you do it?"
It was the question he already knew the answer to, but he couldn't help but ask once more.
He didn't move; his eyes fixated on the silver plaque. The steady downpour did nothing to put his mind at ease. It was only there to saturate the old cemetery. Redwood Cemetery was now the home to B.S.A.A agents that were killed in the line of duty. Most of their bodies were never recovered, due to the effects of viruses that ran through their bloodstream. Other agents were killed by the very monsters he had sworn to eradicate. Recent outbreaks had created another cesspool of bodies. He was forced to kill them, just to protect the ones that were still human.
There was never a time, where he felt comfortable visiting the cemetery. He couldn't remember the last time he was ever in one, not since Jill was declared a casualty in a mission that had gone horribly wrong. It took everything in him to remain strong. The enemy was still out there, and was ready to strike at any given moment. Just when he thought it was over or he was able to breathe, the nightmare persisted again. He knew what he was getting into when he became the co-founder of the B.S.A.A but he couldn't accept what was happening now.
He couldn't accept any of it.
Flowers marked the grave of Piers Nivan, consisting of ivory and lavender petals. Well kept grass surrounded the stems and coruscated in the rain. Bells resonated throughout the cemetery; a somber undertone used during Good Friday. He wasn't a religious man, but knew about the events that marked the church year.
Chris drew a deep breath.
It was goddamned deja'vu again.
Seven years ago, he wore the same uniform during the funeral of a woman he thought he had lost forever. This time, he was staring at the grave of a young man that once had a bright future ahead of him. Piers would have taken his place, once he retired from the B.S.A.A. He would have given up his life to see him alive. Piers was the reason why he was still alive and why he continued to fight.
It should have been him.
He should have been the one to die…it should have been him that was infected and stayed behind.
Even now, his thoughts were selfish. Piers had sacrificed his life, just as Jill had done seven years ago. But it didn't change the emotions that continued to ravage his mind.
How many men have died? How many more would have to perish before it was finally over?
His grip tightened around the handle of the umbrella over his head.
Ironically, it matched his outfit. He wore a standard blue-gray suit, a white shirt, and a beret with sliver trim. It was similar to the traditional military garb but was lighter in color. For once, he was clean shaven, free of the stubble that marred the lower half of his face. He only wore the suit during special events or during important meetings. For the first time, he was to meet with the new president and chief security adviser. He didn't know if he was prepared. A part of him wanted to return to New York and pretend this was a nightmare he could wake up from.
But even then, he knew that wasn't possible.
The war against bioterrorism had only begun. He was a fool to believe that Kijuju was the end of it.
He didn't know how he had managed to sleep during the past few days. Circles developed underneath his eyes, but he did his best to conceal it. His nights were plagued with nightmares, which left him enveloped in sweat, or spending the rest of the night downstairs in the entertainment room, watching the news. Each channel consisted of the coverage regarding the outbreak and everything else that was going on. Then, he resorted to drinking…sometimes five shots of vodka at a time. He didn't want anyone to worry about him; he didn't want anyone to take pity on his situation.
He did what he could to stay in the fight, but temptation stood in his way. The last thing he needed was a therapist, picking away at his agitation.
Thunder rattled the foundations of the cemetery, adding to his silence. Piers wasn't going to answer him, not when he was already gone…just like the ones he had lost over the years. He shouldn't have expected an answer from beyond the grave.
"…It didn't have to be this way..." He muttered to himself.
Minutes passed, before a brief salute was made towards the plaque.
It was time that he took his leave.
Notes: I swear, I didn't want to get started on this story, and yet I was suckered into it by the steady flow of good Jake/Sherry fanfiction trickling in. And usually, when you have a good ideas floating around, you can't help yourself. Like I've mentioned in my profile, I wasn't able to buy Resident Evil 6, however I did watch a playthrough, which allows me to know about the plot, plus Project Umbrella is a good source of information as well so that will help me out in later chapters.
Be warned, that if you haven't played Resident Evil 6 (or watched a playthrough like I did), there will be spoilers. This story is Alternate Universe and is based on a possible theory-post Resident Evil 6. Don't say I didn't warn you. And while this is Jake/Sherry, it does contain Chris/Jill, and Claire/Leon. (I'm contemplating Helena but I'm not sure yet. Let me know in the reviews who should it be.)