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galaxy-fleur · 1 month ago

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✦ Strange Happenings ✦

Pairing: RE4 Albert Wesker/oc Jordan Manalang (belongs to @feng-shui71!).

Summary: Once the heat of battle has faded, cold reality and old feelings unresolved take its place. Stuck between her own unraveling emotions and a crushing sense of obligation, Jordan is struggling to do the right thing once and for all. (Intended as a direct continuation to this comic right here!)

Notes: It's finally done! A gift to @feng-shui71 that was supposed to go along with my DTIS entry, but I'm sharing it as a separate thing entirely. I really hope I did this messy pair justice. Written mostly from Jordan's pov, but some small glimpses into Wesker's head are still present. Additional notes at the end of the piece!

Word count: ~ 6.5k words (insane, I know).

Credits: dividers by @/saradika-graphics, additional art in the header belongs to @feng-shui71 .

Jordan's breaths came out as uneven, short puffs of air as she stared down at the now defeated creature that must have been a normal human once upon a time. Her heart was racing wildly in her chest, each dull thump echoing in her temples with its intensity, her hands quivering around her reliable handgun in a manner that was utterly atypical for her usual composure on the field.

Fear wasn't the cause of her shaken state, however. No, the dead, huge monstrosity of a man had absolutely nothing to do with her unraveling state of mind. In fact, it was completely insignificant. Although it was dangerous. Used to be, at least.

She was fully aware that it was the man standing beside her that was the true cause of her non-fading agitation.

There wasn't anything she could say once the fight was over. What was she supposed to do now, exactly? Seeing Wesker alive and well - and apparently fully willing to pretend like nothing had ever even happened - was too much for her already frazzled mind to handle.

Like everything was normal and just how it was before.

This was planned to be a mission with very few surprising obstacles to deal with. Come in, track and rescue the president's daughter alongside Leon Kennedy, and get to the extraction point. No extra distractions or feelings involved.

But instead, they discovered an utterly deranged mess of insane cultists, mind-controlling parasites, and unwelcome ghosts from the past who had their own unknown objectives to accomplish in this strange place.

To be honest, she wasn't sure how she felt about fighting alongside him again, even if it was technically accidental. She could have sworn he moved just a tad bit quicker than would be natural to the human eye. However, she dismissed her observations on some supposed training he had received during these past six years. After all, she was a much better opponent now as well, despite her age.

Even if the thought of him honing his skills for what she could only assume was an immoral purpose made her feel queasy.

She wanted to feel angry. No, she did feel angry. She just wished her hands wouldn't tremble so furiously. She wished she could look as if she didn't care. Like he did. Even if it hurt to see.

"...I didn't need your help," she finally breaks the charged silence with a quiet angry mutter, lowering her handgun at last as she turns away to pick up some valuables she landed her eyes on prior. Somehow, this silence between them felt so much more oppressive than the loud bangs and grunts of battle before it.

...What the hell was she doing, anyway? She should probably be trying to apprehend him. Catch him by surprise and do her absolute damnest to get the upper hand, even if it would be a losing battle. That would be the right thing to do. She didn't think he was here for a good reason. A thought that felt extremely bitter in her mouth.

Nonetheless, her urge to get away from him triumphs over her moral compass for whatever reason.

Wesker pressed the palm of his hand to his chest, feigning offense, although he appeared more amused than anything else. It was honestly a bit humiliating. As if he didn't value her feelings at all. Either way, she didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing the tense look painted across face, instead crouching down to pick up some scattered note laying on the floor. However, she was not afforded the luxury of actually reading it.

"Is that all you have to say to me after all this time, dear?" His smooth voice hit her ears with a seductive tilt, yet it also carried a distinct sharpness to it, too. As if he had any right to be upset with her for anything. Then again, he always had a habit of getting on people's nerves. Especifically on hers. "You certainly looked like you needed the help."

She straightened herself and tightened her hold on her handgun as she heard him take a few measured steps closer to her. When she whirled to face him, she found him looking back at her, a bit too close for comfort, and apparently studying her like you would an ant in a glass jar. There was no doubt that her shoulders were too stiff to seem composed. And she wasn't composed. She never truly was, was she? It was borderline cruel.

Almost as a visual mockery of it all, his completely laid-back posture challenged her to do something she probably wouldn't do, even if she should.

A part of her wished she could have a look into that brain of his right now. She would have liked to say she would use such an opportunity to fish out some vital intel... but, instead, she really just wanted to know if he cared at all.

"I wouldn't be distracted in the first place, if it wasn't for you showing up."

In addition to being irrelevant, her defense was not very strong, either. But it was a familiar one. In some ways, this tugged at her heart, too.

...They would always bicker like this back in the day.

Was she trembling because of him or the adrenaline of the fight? When Wesker was only a few feet away from her, he ceased his approach. His gaze moved up and down for a moment before he spoke.

"...You look like you've seen better days," he said bluntly, raising a hand and touching her cheek before she could tear herself away. The touch of his rough palm was firm enough to indicate that he was still angry, but gentle enough to show there was something else there.

Anyway, that's what her stupid heart whispered to her, frustratingly so.

Jordan wasn't sure whether she wanted to punch him square in the jaw right then and there, kiss him to shut him up for good, or do anything in between. His touch still did something to her in spite of everything, whether it was her genuine mourning for him for all these years, some lingering feelings of affection, or something else entirely. And she knew that he knew so, too.

It was not fair.

But she wouldn't allow him get close to her. This time, it was not going to work for him. So, without looking him in the eyes, she grabbed at his wrist and ripped it from her face. Some part of her was grateful that he was still wearing those shades of his for whatever reason. She was unsure about her capacity to look him in the eyes right now.

But all her angry action really did was simply make Wesker smile at her knowingly. The real truth was that he almost craved this. To be the center of her attention once again, even if it was her being furious with him. Still, he swiftly adjusted his expression to one of coolness and nonchalance, his gaze fixed on her despite her refusal to reciprocate the gesture. He was always better than her at keeping his emotions in check. That's what he wanted to think, anyway. Oh, he fully understood that she was angry with him, enraged even, and he enjoyed it.

"No thanks to you," she retorted dryly, her voice tight and guarded. She was now finally looking up at him, her dark eyes intense and filled with a mixture of anger, frustration, and something else that she desperately tried to repress. "You did not answer my question. What the hell are you even doing here?"

He didn't respond to her inquiry right away, instead allowing a brief quiet to settle between them.

"...That's a bit of a complicated question to answer, Jords," he chuckled at last, the words almost mocking with the use of that nickname. He was obviously not planning on giving out any useful information to her at all. It seemed as though he had only come to toy with her or something.

Her grip on his wrist tightened slightly, her jaw clenching. Of course he wouldn't tell her. Most likely, the answer wasn't even remotely positive. Old frustrations and hurt were now steadily bubbling up in her chest like a boiling cauldron, threatening to overflow and scald them both at any moment.

How long did he spend lying to her face in this way? Was it from the start? Did he show her anything sincere in the years of that life they've built together?

"Save the bullshit. I know you're up to something," she said gruffly. She had a fairly good understanding of him. Too good. At least that's what she hoped to believe. Now, however, she did not know what to believe. So, her focus was on the practicalities. That was easier. "Who do you work for?"

With her free hand raised to put the handgun's barrel right to his forehead, she suddenly yanked him closer in the hopes of catching him off-guard. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. This time, she will not hesitate or fold. She will not.

Because what will it mean for her if she does...?

Wesker's eyebrows raised just slightly in response to her hasty actions, the only sign of his potential surprise, but he still appeared infuriatingly unconcerned about the potential danger she entailed. He even appeared to be almost impressed. And maybe a little aroused, but he was certainly covering that one up well.

It was almost as if she was pointing a plastic toy-gun at him, rather than a real, fully loaded firearm that could take his life with a single movement of her finger.

She was obviously unaware that he could easily break free from her hold in less than a second if he so desired, but he knowingly didn't. It was almost like he was tempting her to do something, anything. Instead of raising his hands in surrender or even just finally taking her seriously, he simply smirked, revealing his canines, and looked down at her with a tiny tilt of his brow.

...Were his teeth always so sharp-looking-?

"Still as feisty as ever I see," he remarked, his voice low and even. Much to her startlement, he boldly took a step closer to her, his body almost crowding her in now. "Always wanting to get your way. But I'll humor you, just this once."

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest as her jaw tightened further. He shifted his attention up to the handgun pressed to his head.

She knew Albert was self-assured, but surely even he was conscious of his own mortality, right?

"What are you-" she started, unable to hide the bewilderment in her tone, but he cut her off before she could even utter her question.

"-You know you won't pull the trigger," he said, now fully serious. Before she could add anything else, he visibly pressed his head further into the barrel of her handgun, almost daring her to do it. "You never could."

It was a little frustrating how certain he was in his remark. Then again, his confidence has always been a huge source of annoyance to her. But things felt... different now. He was more assured, more factual. It was almost as if he was stating the most apparent and ultimate truth to her. Like saying that the sky is blue.

But, as far as she was concerned, this was not a simple black-and-white issue.

"You don't know that," she growled, but even she didn't sound so sure anymore. She swallowed heavily, straightening up. She didn't like the way their physical closeness was affecting her. Not one bit. She had no desire to be impacted by him in this way.

Not anymore.

She tightened her hold on his wrist once more and forced him back into the closest stone wall, pushing him up against it with her body. Wesker merely let out another soft, amused chuckle as his back hit the wall, the sound of it sending an unwanted shiver down her spine. Even though the handgun was still pushed right against his forehead, her eyes betrayed her distress plain for him to behold.

The longer he displayed his indifference, the more she cracked.

"-I hate you."

Her voice was low and gruff, those three words coming out as a sharp hiss. While she did wish she could be as detached as he was, there was something liberating in finally getting to express all these festering emotions she pushed down for all these years. Even if it put her in a bad situation.

Nevertheless, she could still see his enjoyment, the manner in which his eyes unabashedly traversed her figure up and down, conveying more than any verbal response could articulate. He didn't speak, simply allowing her to hold him against the wall with no attempts to push back against her. Yet. Somehow, he still seemed amused despite his situation, as though he enjoyed being pinned by her in this way.

"...Do you?" He asked. His tone was both challenging and almost... teasing. "Because there was a time when you loved me."

Her chest ached from his words in a way that no physical injury could ever match.

She did love him, once.

Profoundly.

With every atom of her goddamn being.

And he destroyed it all in a single night.

She grit her teeth so hard that she thought she could feel them chipping. This close, she could smell his subtle cologne - something woodsy and tangy in a way that would make her head spin if she was to get too close - a familiar scent she'd once found intoxicating. Comforting.

But at this point, it was only making her feel nauseous.

"Don't you fucking dare-" she started, but got cut off by her own shaky breath. One that sounded more like a gasp. Her hands began to tremble again. She was so torn between anger, grief, and old feelings alike. It was time for her to pull the trigger. He was not the man she thought he was, possibly never was. He must be here for something equally twisted as it was back in that cursed mansion. Or worse. If not for her own sake, she must do it for those innocent lives that will undoubtedly be impacted by his actions here. But instead, what came out of her was:"You lied!"

She didn't like how loud and hoarse it came out. Though she found it increasingly hard to care.

"...Sometimes we must tell a lie for the greater good. You know, I thought you were smart enough to understand such things by now... But you still cling to the first explanation there is, I see. Pity, I'd say."

Oh that set her off.

"You lied, and you betrayed me. You betrayed all of us, you backstabbing, lying- Do you have any idea what I felt-" she broke herself off again, her breathing heavy, yet her lungs feeling painfully empty no matter how much air she took in. Now there was too much to say, too many emotions filling up her mind, each one demanding to be thrown back in his face. She was unraveling at the seams.

Wesker's smile finally diminished somewhat in response. Just a smidge, just the tiniest of changes, but noticeable regardless. For a moment, he almost looked... a bit guilty. But that expression disappeared in a flash, replaced by one of indifference. He's always been good at hiding his feelings.

But he also recognized that she was technically correct. It was true that he lied. He did betray her. He did leave her behind.

However, he had no regrets about it.

"I did what I had to do," he said, his voice cool and steady. Still, there was a small hint of remorse carefully threaded through his words, albeit it was twisted. "It was necessary. You wouldn't understand."

Oh, he was well aware of her anger and hurt. But he was also well aware that she didn't understand. She simply could not understand his rationale even if he tried. It was very probable that she'd never understand, even if he'd like to believe otherwise.

Still, from Jordan's point of view, his response didn't give him any more grace, if any.

"How convenient for you," she spat out, words feeling like venom on her tongue, painful and bitter. "But you're right. I won't understand. I will never understand how you 'had' to stab us in the back and leave our partners to be torn apart and die like your 'little piggies'. I will never understand you tearing our family apart with your own bloodied hands."

"...You never could," he repeated, his gaze roaming over her face, taking in every little aspect of her rage. "You were always too naive for the truth. Too soft. That's why I kept you in the dark."

His words made her jaw clench. It didn't even sound like an insult this time around, but it still felt like one, anyways. She was not fond of being referred to as soft or naive. Her entire goddamn life was spent training to be anything but those things.

Yet here he was, using those exact words to mock her.

"Naive?" She snapped in disbelief, "I trusted you. Because I loved you. That's what you're supposed to do with people you love, with family! And you played me like a fool."

She pressed the handgun harder to his forehead, but she still didn't squeeze at the trigger. In fact, her finger wasn't even on the trigger now. Though, neither of them addressed this detail.

Wesker held her gaze, his expression unreadable. He didn't flinch, but his jaw clenched, his muscles tensing ever so slightly under her heated stare. "Yes... You did. And your trust meant a lot to me. Whether you believe that or not."

That didn't help at all.

"I loved you," she breathed out. Something she wanted to say with a snarl, but instead it sounded more like a broken plea. She wanted him to show her anything, any sign that he still cared, that he always cared. "And you lied to me. God knows for how long. Maybe from the very beginning. Hell, maybe none of it was real."

She shook her head, the words leaving the tip of her tongue before she could stop them. This had nothing to do with this. She should focus on getting information from him and apprehending him. Her fallen teammates wouldn't have wanted her to do this. And yet-

"You were the one fucking person I let in like that," she said, her voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, "And you stabbed me right in the back. Or, well, should I say 'shot me right in the face'? And don't even give me that 'I knew you'd survive it' bullshit."

Those final words were more bitter than anything else prior, reminding them both of the blood-stained memories that had tortured her ever since.

And when that was brought up, Wesker's face visibly darkened on the spot. Something that made her feel just a tiny bit of twisted victory in her chest, knowing she finally got to him, hit him where it hurts, maybe. He appeared angry with her, yes, yet there was something else going on, too. Regret? Perhaps. Guilt? Who the hell knows.

Her words did make his heart churn in his chest, even if he appeared to be almost completely unaffected on the surface. He knew he hurt her and he knew he betrayed her in the way that he probably wouldn't have forgiven, either. Even now, despite his own feelings on the matter, he could tell that she was sincerely and deeply hurt.

That was never truly his objective, ironic as it was.

"...You know it wasn't personal," he started, his voice low and measured. "It wasn't about you. It was bigger than us. Bigger than anything we could've had together."

He was still attempting to excuse it. Despite everything, he remained stubborn as ever in his beliefs. Indeed, that has consistently been his nature. He was battling to persuade himself that he made the correct decision. And that irritated her even more.

"You have to understand that-"

"-That makes it worse, you fucking idiot!"

Jordan cried out, interrupting him right in the middle of the sentence, throwing all attempts to appear unaffected out the window. For all these years, there had been far too much that had been simmering and decaying within her. She has exhausted herself so far beyond her limit by keeping it all inside under an iron lock. And his words weren't helping. Not at all.

Her face showed a combination of frustration, pain, and confusion. She was having a hard time understanding, comprehending what he was even saying, and why he thought it would somehow make her feel better about it all.

"I loved you," she repeated, her voice cracking with emotion, "And you threw it all away for... whatever secret bullshit you were chasing! 'Bigger than us' my ass! You know, I hope your children never learn how little they apparently mean to you."

Although hidden under the thick shades of his shades, the vertical pupils in Wesker's eyes narrowed at that, making him finally show a mixture of steadily simmering rage and his own frustration flashing across his sharp features. Oh, that one struck a nerve, she could tell. Well, good. The bastard deserved to feel shitty for once in his life.

Of course, Wesker knew she loved him, hell, he probably still loved her now, although that was a sentiment that remained unspoken. But the complexity of it all was beyond her comprehension. And he doubted she'd understand. Not yet. She was far too emotional, far too fiery, far too raw to truly understand right now.

He will help her to understand in time. But it was still... frustrating right now.

"It wasn't just some 'bullshit I was chasing'," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "It was something bigger, something important."

"Oh yeah? Try me," Jordan snorted, the sound more angry than humorous. "Try and tell me what is more important than your own fucking family, Albert. I'd love to hear it."

The more she pushed, the more his own rage began to surface and the more defensive he became.

"You don't get it. You never could-" He was disappointed and angry. At her, for not understanding. At himself, for caring. As he pressed himself off the wall, she stumbled a few steps backwards, still pointing the handgun at him but predictably not doing a thing to properly threaten him. Somehow, it only frustrated him further. The answer was staring her right in the face, and she refused to acknowledge it due to her own stubbornness. "You see life too simply."

Jordan's eyes widened, her prior anger replaced by a sense of danger that radiated from him in waves. "Stand down-"

He completely disregarded her warning and simply kept moving forward, now being the one to crowd her in.

...Damn it, she forgot how big he was.

"You see everything in black and white. Good and bad. But the world doesn't work like that. It's about power. It's about winning. I did what I had to do to win. I had to make sacrifices. And you just happened to be one of them."

Her grip on the handgun began to slip, and her hand shook slightly.

"A sacrifice...?" She sputtered in pure disbelief, her voice a mix of shock and anger. Somehow, despite everything, that still came as a complete surprise to her. And not a good one. "Is that what I was to you? What, just another... pawn on your game or something? A sacrifice?"

She was still unable to comprehend what she was hearing in spite of everything that had transpired.

All those feelings they'd shared, all the countless precious moments they so carefully created together, big and small...

The pain in her voice was more clear than ever before. It was proving difficult for her to understand his words and reconcile the person she once loved with the man standing in front of her now.

He scoffed, seemingly only frustrated with her hurt response: "That's not what I said, Jordan. Stop putting words in my mouth and listen for once in your damn life."

With the handgun still aimed at his head, she lifted it a little.

"You left me," she repeated, "You left me there to die. And now you want me to listen to you? To understand why you 'had' to betray me? What, did you have to shoot me in the face, too?"

"That's not-"

Her rage and hurt were spilling over as she shook, refusing to let him finish. "Was it all just a lie then? Everything we had together. Was any of it real? Anything at all?"

Wesker's face went dark again. He was still standing there, close, and she could see the visible tension coiling in his muscles under his dress-shirt as he tried to hold himself back from whatever it was he wanted to do.

Perhaps from killing her.

She didn't know anymore.

But the truth was that, if words couldn't penetrate her thick skull, Wesker yearned to reach out and touch her, to grasp at her and make her understand via touch alone. He realized that it was not the appropriate moment for that, though. Not when she looked up at him with such rage and betrayal in her eyes.

She'd probably just punch him, anyways.

"It wasn't a lie," he said instead, the words forced out through gritted teeth. He was struggling, she thinks. "None of it was a lie. I did care. I still care. Why do you think I'm here exactly?"

He took another step forward, reaching out to touch her cheek again. His touch caused Jordan to recoil, as though it had burned her. However, she refused to distance herself or avert her gaze from him. Whether out of pride or something else.

"Don't," she whispered, her eyes pained, all previous fire long fizzled out and crumbling into ash now. "Don't fucking touch me. You don't get to touch me now."

She could sense herself shaking, though, even as she mouthed the words. Her feelings for him persisted, even now, despite all she was aware of. All she was not aware of. Even after all this time, even after everything he has done to her. She was utterly torn between anger and grief because of how she felt for this cursed man. She was angry at him, she hated him, yet she also wanted him. Equally intense was her want to reach out and touch him.

Despite the painful revelations she's faced in their last encounter, she mourned him in the years she believed he was dead. In a way a broken lover would. She mourned him in shame, in secret, unable to even share her grief with a single soul. Murderers and villains aren't mourned, after all. What would Chris think of her if she revealed just how much her heart has bled for Albert all these years? How would Jill feel? How would Barry feel?

She could only imagine the disgust that all the deceased S.T.A.R.S. felt for her from beyond their graves.

Her anguish was a concealed secret, repressed and relegated to the deepest corners of her soul. But, God, did it fester. Like a rotting wound, it gradually spread its repulsive decay over her body and soul, until it threatened to consume her whole.

However, she was too proud, too stubborn, and far too angry to concede.

So, she shook her head, attempting to remove his touch, but she remained there, trapped in place. She could sense the warmth of his skin against hers and the subtle pressure of his fingers on her cheek. So familiar yet so foreign now.

"...Why are you doing this?" She asked, her voice cracking, "Why are you tormenting me like this?"

Wesker's heart clenched as he watched the stormy emotions play out on her face so clear for him to see. Whether she believed it or not, he truly had no desire to do this to her, this wasn't the way he had wanted things to go. She had a habit of ruining his meticulously crafted plans, it seemed. Still, he'd forgive her every time.

However, he was also a man who enjoyed having full control. He was a man who always got what he wanted in the end. And he wanted her.

He drew nearer till their bodies were nearly touching. He silently observed the way she was reacting to him, the way she was resisting her own emotions. It was admirable how determined she was to stay strong, no matter the odds stacked against her. He's gotta give her that. He always liked that in her. That stubborn spirit of hers. Even if it caused him trouble, time and time again.

He knew perfectly well that it was wrong, of course. From her standpoint, that is.

It was cruel.

But he was unable to stop himself. He didn't want to.

So, he grasped her chin, tilting it up to ensure she met his gaze directly. She looked beautiful, even now, he thought to himself.

"Why am I doing this?" He echoed back to her, his voice softer now, almost apologetic. Almost. "Because I can't stop myself around you. Because I can't resist you. Because I need you. I always did. Against my better judgement."

His thumb swept over her lower lip as his fingers started to trace her jawline, refamiliarizing himself with the contours of her face he hadn't touched in so long. She couldn't help but shiver at the subtle touch.

Her resolve began to crumble. The way he was touching her and speaking to her was just... too much. She wished he would keep being that self-absorbed jerk to her. That would be easier to deal with than this. It was a bit ironic, how nothing he did would make her feel satisfied.

Still, her body dutifully responded to his touch. Her heart started to race, her breathing becoming shallow.

Everything about him right now felt too familiar: his words, touch, presence.

Too soothing.

Too right.

And so wrong.

"Albert..." she whispered. Her weak heart betrayed her, and she hated herself for it. Hated that she still reacted so well to his touch after all these years. "You can't... say things like that..."

Her words have completely lost all semblance of a protest to them. They were just a weak plea now. It was absolutely pitiful. She was pitiful.

"You can't just... you can't just come back into my life and... and act like we're fine. Like nothing ever happened between us."

But her willpower was weakening. He was pressing so close to her now that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body. Alive. Real. And she felt the growing want to lean in, to melt into his body as she always has, to feel his arms enveloping her, and to temporarily forget about everything else, even if for a single, blissful moment.

Now, though, she couldn't do that, could she? He stole that comfort from her. And she hated him for it.

Wesker was also able to see it. The way she was steadily weakening against him, the way her body responded to his touch. Not that she was even trying that hard to hide it now.

Finally, she was under his control. She always is, after a little bit of effort on his part, after all.

He leaned forward, the warmth of his breath ghosting over her skin.

"I can say whatever I want," he murmured, his other hand reaching out to rest on her hip, pulling her ever so slightly closer. "And I am aware that we're not fine. But I still want you."

He knew that, with this, he was torturing her mercilessly. But he was powerless to stop it. He has missed her, dear God, he has missed her more than he was willing to acknowledge, and this human weakness of his was seeping into his touch. He didn't want to let go of her after getting to feel her again.

Hid hand gripping her hip in such a way made her gasp lightly. She was steadily losing herself in his touch, his scent, him. She ought not to. But she was.

She did make an effort to put up a fight against it, to the best of her ability. She made an effort to stay angry and resentful, but his touch was breaking down her walls. It has always been this way. He was the only one who had ever seen this side of her. Beneath all of the bravado and carefully crafted independence, there lied a weaker, lonely woman who just wanted to be embraced as she was and soothed from all of her worries.

Because of that, she used to adore him wholeheartedly. Now it just felt humiliating.

"-Stop it," she gasped, her voice strained. "You can't just... you can't just come back and expect me to just... forgive you. Not after everything. I can't."

However, her free hand has grasped the collar of his shirt, her fingers squeezing the fabric with underlying urgency. It was a subtle indication that she was slipping. It thrilled him as much as tugged at his heart. Her other hand that was still holding onto the handgun was also slackening as it lowered slightly from his forehead. Although her mind was urging her to push him away, she wasn't doing so. She should do the right thing and take action. Chris would have made that decision. Jill would have made that decision. Barry would have made that decision. Even Rebecca would. For all the teammates who were killed so cruelly and unfairly. But despite everything that has happened, she still wanted his touch. Despite all the suffering and betrayal.

When she said her final, real words, her voice was nothing but a raspy whisper: "...I hate you. I hate what you did to me."

Finally, he had her exactly where he wanted her.

His own voice was somehow kind yet firm, and as he leaned in closer, his lips lightly brushed her cheek.

"Hate me or not, you still want me. I can tell. You can't resist me any more than I can resist you. We're two sides of the same coin, my dear." His hand tightened around her hip, indicating a possessive grip. "All those years apart, and look at us now... You could call it fate. A rather intriguing concept. What do you say?"

His lips were now steadily traveling down her jaw in quick, sickeningly soft kisses before she could say anything. Jordan was shaken, utterly speechless at the onslaught of sensations that were so subtle, they could almost be written off as figments of her imagination. A taste of something he knew she wanted.

He was quite cruel.

"You act like you can't stand the mere sight of me, and yet you're shaking in my arms. The way you're holding onto me... I think you know why."

Before he could go any farther however, he pulled away after giving her a single, almost tantalizing kiss on the corner of her lips.

She despised the way she reacted to him. She felt completely helpless now as her handgun lowered from his forehead against her will, no longer even pointed in his direction. She was utterly helpless to stop it. Or maybe she just didn't want to, and that was the ugliest truth of it all.

He was correct. Her hatred for him was overwhelming. But with just one push, hatred is readily able to slip into love, much as a pendulum swings back and forth. And right now, her hatred was being overtaken by an even more powerful emotion.Yearning.

With her eyes closed tightly and lips pressed together, she tried very hard to stop the sound that was steadily coming up her throat. A sound of need and longing.

She was fighting a vicious internal battle, using all her willpower to stiffle her desire. However, it was a futile struggle. In addition, she has already failed to act in the appropriate manner the very second she couldn't bring herself to pull the trigger. Maybe she was just not as good of a person as she thought she was.

Maybe none of it even mattered.

She has never been able to stop him from getting what he wants. He had her under his control, and he was very cognizant of it. It's like trying to escape out of a cobweb, only to get tangled up more the harder you try. It was hopeless. She was hopeless.

"...What do you want from me?" She asked, her voice hoarse, the words pushed out past her clenched teeth. It was an implied admittance of defeat, one that certainly did not go unnoticed by him.

He was definitely more that aware of having almost won this wordless battle between them. He was confident that he had her right where he needed her now.

He drew her closer as his hand tightened around her hip. His body was now pressed up against hers, his touch both possessive and demanding, no longer trying to conceal his intentions.

"I want you," he said bluntly, his voice low and rough. "I want all of you. Your anger, your hatred, your pain. Your love. Your need. I want you to give me all of it."

And before she could respond, he closed the space left between them and kissed her, snatching what little breath she had.

He didn't really give her much time to ease into it. His kiss was forceful, controlling, possessive. He was taking what he wanted, what he's been craving for all these years. It was nearly too much. Like she was drowning in him, with his presence actively cutting off all her senses with its stiffling intensity.

She heard the muted sound of her handgun striking the ground, the metal bouncing off the hard rock and reverberating through the walls, as if from underwater. Like a loud declaration of her failure. He did not make her do that. Or did he? She wanted to say he did. Hell, there was still a big, raging part of her wanting to push at his chest as hard as she could and scream her lungs out at him. But now, did she even have the right to do that? Wouldn't that make her a hypocrite? Wasn't the line already crossed?

His words were scathing, penetrating deep into the darkest corners of her soul and eroding all of what was left of her determination. Maybe he was right. Maybe they really were just two sides of the same coin. She didn't know anymore. And it was getting harder and harder to see herself as anything but a failure.

His hand went from her hip and slid up her side, firm and demanding. As he pulled her further against him, he deepened the kiss with practiced ease, making her let out a small, choked noise that instantly got swallowed by him with a sharp breath. His touch was hungry, punishing. In a way that made her knees buckle. She hadn't been touched like this in years, and the familiarity of his scent, his warmth, his everything was just too much for her to bear.

Ah... fuck it.

She pushed all of her reservations away with a single sarcastic thought flashing through her mind, roughly dragging him in by his shirt collar and returning his kiss with a desperate one of her own. Not in any way similar to her heated kisses of the past long lost. She was angry with him, with herself, and with the world at large, and she wanted him to know it, as evidenced by her teeth harshly sinking into his bottom lip with such severity that he sucked in an involuntary gasp against her.

However, he didn't appear to mind it too much. If his small, rumbling groan that followed suit was anything to go by. It certainly sent a sharp shiver up her spine.

The way he held her felt familiar. But it was also different. It had a new edge to it, an intensity that wasn't there before. He was different. Perhaps it's who he has always been. She didn't know.

A tiny, foolish part of her wanted to think that, like in dumb fairy tales with their happily-ever-after's, she could somehow make everything alright again with a single magic kiss. Fix it all with power of love alone. Of course, that was not going to happen. And the sudden piercing sound of her receiver going off felt like a lightning strike on a sunny day, shattering the already frail illusion into a million broken pieces before it could even take its proper shape.

Breathing shakily after the entire experience, she broke away from him with a single gasp. She tried not to think too much about the thin string of saliva that was connecting their lips before breaking off. A good visual reminder of the stupidest choice she could have made. For a moment, she was just frozen, completely unable to bring herself to act.

What the hell should she even do at this point?

It was probably Leon... Or maybe Luis.

Before she could do anything, though, she noticed Wesker smirking to himself, the usual smugness returning to his sharp features. Without any further cocky comments from his side, he merely reached over and swiped his thumb over her bottom lip, cleaning off the remainders of their messy kiss from mere moments prior. It was difficult to avoid shivering at the touch.

"What are you-"

"-You should take it, my love. It could be important. I have some... unfinished business to take care of myself. But, believe me..." She blinked as she felt him sweep a lock of hair behind her ear before stepping back. A gesture that felt both sickeningly affectionate and somehow mocking. "I'll be keeping an eye on you. And I will be back for you. When the time comes."

He disappeared in an instant, leaving her with a raging receiver and a flurry of panicked thoughts flying through her mind at the speed of light. She didn't answer. Instead, she simply slid down the nearest wall till she reached the cold stone floor, her body curling up on itself and her head hidden between her knees.

What the hell does she do now...?

Additional notes:

• I wanted to explore Jordan's state of mind and how it could tie into her future mental decline in RE5. While she is deeply independent and strong-willed, it seems that Wesker is definitely one of those few people she's fully vulnerable with (based on what interactions they had in re1 comics!). And, well, of course she is! He is her husband! He is her family! Delving into her inner struggle between her usual independence vs the familiar pull of someone she never got to get over was very fun.

• I based Wesker's mannerisms mostly off of Jordsker comics/stuff! Not gonna lie, I tend to lean more into a cold, measured type of Wesker, so sprinkling in some sassiness and charm that he seems to share in his interactions with Jordan was a very interesting change (and good practice!)

• My interpretation of Jordan's entire mental decline (both presented here and one that would follow later in re5) is heavily tied to feelings of guilt and inner shame more than anything else. I definitely wanted to incorporate that here. She feels shame for mourning him as much as she did, when she should have mourned all the innocent that were affected by his involvement instead. She feels guilt for her feelings towards him - thus never properly opening up about them and working through them in a healthy manner. She feels shame for her inability to do the right thing and bring him to justice when she had the chance. And her giving in to him here, while unknowingly to her, stemming from these feelings of inner shame and guilt, is just yet another piece falling into place.

• Wesker is never really dishonest with her in the latter part. Even his earlier words were more just teasing fun on his part. You could call it flirting (horrible attempt at it, really). I actually find that really fun with him here. He's not really being manipulative or cruel with her on purpose, he means everything he says. It is just twisted. Does that make the whole thing better or worse for poor Jordan? Who knows.

#resident evil #albert wesker #albert wesker x oc #resident evil oc #jordan manalang #jordsker #IT'S HEREEEE #can you tell i love writing messy relationship drama

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