Into Focus - 2
He’d never been one for serious partners either. Annika was the first, and even that had been more of an experiment than driven by any need for companionship.
It was all Birkin’s fault, really. Despite his claim of dedication, of his obsession, he still managed to not only catch the attention of Annette, but hold her to him. It was a strange union, held together with what people like himself and Birkin could only pretend was love, and Wesker waited for it to fall apart. But it didn’t; Annette was as lost in Umbrella and its tantalizing secrets as they were, and embraced the approximation of love she and William managed. Through work, they were joined, and joined they stayed. They even had a daughter.
Wesker did not consider himself a jealous man, nor the situation one to be jealous about, but he was certainly a curious one. How had William Birkin, of all people, managed to form a relationship and hold it? Why would he want to? Perhaps there was something indeed to look into in the manner of the so-called fairer sex.
Wesker didn’t go out and actively look for a partner, and he wasn’t looking when he met Anna. A young foreign woman, down on her luck and in need of help. He’d picked her up on the side of the road, hitchhiking of all things, and this reminder of his own youth made him stop for her. Curiosity, nothing more. She didn’t have a destination, just to get away, so he took her home. Let her stay. Didn’t ask questions on how she ended up near penniless in America. She repaid him by way of looking after him, cooking for him, cleaning, doing his laundry. Considering his work schedule he found this beneficial.
Anna was also the one who made the first move. He had made no mention of wanting her, hadn’t even considered it. Then she kissed him, and it was only then he realized she was an attractive woman, a soft face, tumbling red hair, lithe body, and bright eyes that looked at him with nothing but adoration.
And, oh, did that adoration go beyond her gaze. How she opened herself to him, touched him, loved him, practically worshiped him in whispers as he thrust into her.
It was an enjoyable time, he had to admit. He got her the needed paperwork and green card, almost expecting her to disappear soon after, but she stayed. And Anna wanted more than just a home and sex, she practically dragged him out when he had the time and they would run amok in town, drinking and laughing and then would stumble back to his jeep and fuck in the back.
She was bright in is visage then, sharp in focus and full of color, but after a time she began to dull as Wesker’s interest waned. The newness of it all faded and to him it became more of the same, her wants more intrusive, her needs a nag. She was fading out of his focus by the time she disappeared, leaving nothing but a sappy note of love and a possible child.
Good riddance. End it all before it became a drudgery. Toss the note and move on.
Yet he still had this sorry piece of paper. Still had this reminder of possible offspring.
He could have a child out there. A possible son, a possible daughter.
Why didn’t he care?
He should. Those were his genes, his legacy.
And there was the matter of Umbrella interfering with it all. Why?
“Wesker? Captain!”
He started out of his thoughts and looked up at Redfield, gazing at him in both amusement and concern.
“Sorry, but you were out of it,” Chris said, “Need a nap? If you go crash on the couch outside the break room you know none of us would say anything.”
“I’m fine,” Wesker grumbled, “What do you need?”
Chris handed him a sheaf of papers, “The report on yesterday’s drug bust.”
“Yes, good. Thank you, Chris.”
“You sure you’re okay? I had to call you three times.”
“Just thinking...”
“I could tell. Look, you’ve been working hard these past couple of weeks, why don’t you head home early? Barry’ll cover for you.”
Wesker was about to dismiss that idea, send Chris back to his desk to pretend to work, but a worn slip of paper continued to flit through his brain, a location scribbled at its end just above a hastily written I love you.
“Actually,” Wesker said, slow as the idea formed, “What I really think I need is a vacation.”
