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dmitriene · 8 months

Text

— shadows of empathy.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ «precious and fragile things» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «need special handling» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «my god, what have we done to you?»

summary: you don’t remember how you ended up in this laboratory, how long you endured pain, but you remember the warmth of his hands and the muffled whisper of promises. content: albert wesker x gn reader tags: lots of hurt x comfort at the end, lot of experiments, suffering from moral and physical pain, mention of needles and sadism, may be presence of stockholm syndrome, presence of william birkin. (let me know if i forgot something!) author's note: my first time of writing for wesker and also including some sensitive topics, hope you'll enjoy! enjoy your reading) 💉

The atmosphere of the lab was eerie and oppressive, a place where the lines between humanity and scientific curiosity were blurred, cold fluorescent light cast sharp shadows on sterile metal surfaces, the air was filled with the strong smell of disinfectant mixed with the acrid taste of chemicals, a constant hum of machines, a haunting reminder of the experiments being carried out within these walls.

For you, locked in the walls of the laboratory, the environment became a real nightmare, your memory was a fragmented puzzle the pieces of which were missing like scattered pieces of glass, you clung to the fragments that you had, for flashes of life before the laboratory, which seemed far away and out of reach, your confusion was a constant companion, a gnawing emptiness that made you yearn for answers.

In moments of introspection, you were often lost, looking through the small window of your cell at a world that seemed both familiar and alien, the darkness outside seemed to reflect the darkness in your own mind, a vast expanse of uncertainty that stretched to infinity.

The screams that echoed down the corridor, both yours and those of other unfortunate souls, were a symphony of anguish that haunted your every waking moment.

Over time, despair grew, the desire for freedom and truth intensified, the laboratory became a tangled prison, every cell a cage for lost memories and broken dreams, you longed for answers, even the smallest piece of your past, something for which you could survive the chaos and uncertainty.

Among the same snow white walls it was harsh and frightening, the sterile white surfaces reflected the already familiar harsh fluorescent light, the air was saturated with the smell of antiseptics and chemicals, a constant reminder of the clinical nature of this place, the hum of machines seemed to be reflected through the walls creating an unsettling symphony of technology, cold metal instruments were neatly laid out on the tables next to your vulnerable body strapped to the examination table.

Everything around was a nightmarish reality from which you could not escape, the environment was alien and unfamiliar, as if you had entered a world that defied logic, the memories were fragmentary, elusive, leaving again and again in deep confusion and fear.

You trembled in the bonds that held you, your eyes darted around the room in search of something recognizable, your heart pounded as you struggled to piece together the mystery of your existence, your inability to remember anything in front of the sterile laboratory walls eventually turned into a gaping mental wound.

Confusion and fear enveloped you like a suffocating shroud, you were a fragile figure among the cold equipment, a mixture of fear and bewilderment was read in your eyes, memories of a former life were just fragments, disparate images that you clung to in vain while your mind was a labyrinth of uncertainty.

The experiments you endured left scars on your body and your spirit broken, pain was a constant companion, each injection and procedure was a brutal attack that seemed to blur the line between life and suffering, you were trapped in a cycle of agony, unable to escape the torment become your new reality.

Your fear of Albert Wesker and Birkin was palpable, Wesker's presence was a mystery — his power and motives are obscure, his calculated gaze and measured words sent shivers down your spine, the unpredictability of his actions heightened your unease.

Birkin, on the other hand, was the epitome of cruelty, his touch was aggressive, and his detachment from your suffering caused waves of terror, making you feel like a pawn in a game you couldn't understand.

When Wesker and Birkin stood together in the lab, their conversations swirled around you like a nightmarish symphony.

— «Progress is being made» Birkin said, his voice devoid of compassion as he treated you as if you were more of an experiment than a person.

Wesker's gaze darted towards you, his expression enigmatic — «She's more than just data, Birkin» he declared, and there was a hint of something in his voice that you couldn't understand.

Birkin chuckled — «Sentimentality has no place here, Wesker, our goals are much more important than the personality»

Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest, a mixture of fear and despair flowed through your veins, and as soon as you spoke, suddenly your voice broke out with a strong tremor — «P-please, I need to know… Why am I here? What did I do?»

Wesker's gaze met yours, something like a display of sympathy flickering in his eyes — «You're not here because of what you've done» he said softer than you expected — «But rather because of what others seek to achieve»

Birkin's lips instantly twisted into a cruel smile — «You are a vessel for our experiments, a means to an end, your goal — is to serve science»

His words only allowed your fear and confusion to grow, the heaviness of their words crushed more than anything else, you felt trapped, driven into a nightmare where the answers were elusive and the pain endless, and as their dialogue went on, you became more and more withdrawn into yourself, a frail figure lost in a world that seemed to revel in your suffering.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

The experiment was a frightening mixture of clinical detachment and palpable tension, the cold, sterile walls of the lab echoing with the mechanical hum of the machinery, creating an unsettling symphony, the blindingly bright light overhead casting harsh shadows, making every detail of the lab stand out with unsettling clarity, through the air saturated with the smell of antiseptics and chemicals reminded that this is a place where scientific curiosity got the better of sympathy.

Your body became the canvas for these invasive experiments, each one a brutal assault on your physical and mental well-being, pain was a constant, unrelenting presence — a searing fire that ate from within as needles pierced your skin, delivering viruses and serums, your body convulsed in agony, and the once clear mind turned into a haze of suffering, unable to escape the torment inflicted on you.

Screams, this time your own echoed through the laboratory, a symphony of pain that seemed to go unnoticed by scientists consumed by their own ambitions, the shackles that held you in place seemed like shackles, a cruel reminder of your helplessness, every injection, every cut, every probing tool caused waves of agony that makes you shiver and gasp.

The pain was not only physical but also emotional, the experiments robbed you of your self respect, leaving you feeling like you were just a vessel for their perverted pursuits, loss of control, abuse of your body and inability to understand the purpose of your own suffering created a sense of isolation that was as heartbreaking as the physical pain.

Amidst the agony, there were moments when you clung to fragments of your personality, soapy fleeting memories of your life before the lab, those memories were both a source of comfort and an added layer of anguish as they stood in stark contrast to the nightmare you were now living.

The pain of the experiments was an unrelenting force, a nightmare from which it was impossible to escape, but in this nightmare there was a spark of resilience, determination to survive and a fragile hope that one day the agony would subside and you could regain your identity and your life.

But all this was ruined by the appearance of Birkin, the atmosphere in his presence was suffocating — a toxic mixture of clinical detachment and sadistic curiosity, he moved with an imperious air, his cold, calculating eyes were fixed on you as if you were nothing more than an interesting specimen, laboratory seemed to shrink in his presence, the shadows cast by his body adding to the eerie feeling of being trapped in his gaze.

His gloves, stained with the remnants of countless experiments, contrasted sharply with your pale and delicate skin, his touch was sharp and impersonal, he treated you as if you were an object and not a person, each injection felt like an invasion, his gloved fingers pressed the needle into your flesh with heartless disregard for your pain.

The dialogue was marked by a frightening lack of empathy, Birkin's words were clinical, his tone devoid of compassion as he discussed you as if you were a puzzle to be solved — «You turn out to be very hardy» he thought one day as he narrowed his eyes as he watched you writhe in agony — «It's amazing how the human body reacts to such stressors»

You struggled to find your voice in the pain, your sighs and cries met with cold indifference — «Please.. stop it..» you managed to squeeze out, your voice was barely a whisper, but your plea went unheeded, as if your suffering was nothing more than a necessary component of his experiments.

Birkin's answers were distant and unsettling, his words imbued with a kind of twisted charm — «Pain is just a sensation that needs to be studied and understood» he remarked with a note of superiority — «Your body's response provides valuable data that will drive our research»

Despite your vulnerability, you felt a surge of anger and frustration — «I'm not just data» you retorted in a voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance, but your defiance only seemed to amuse him, his lips curved into a grim smile.

— «Ah, but you are, my dear» he replied, his eyes glittering with alarming intensity — «You — are the embodiment of the progress of science, the sacrifice of one for the good of many»

Your short dialogues were a perverse dance of power dynamics, a clash between your desperation to be accepted as a person and his determination to turn you into a mere object for experimentation, his words left an indelible mark on the soul, a reminder that in the walls of the laboratory you were nothing more than a pawn in their twisted games.

And yet, in the midst of darkness and cruelty, there was an unexpected glimmer of hope, Albert Wesker, the man you once feared, seemed to offer a different perspective — one that hinted at the possibility of redemption, compassion, and a chance to break free from the clutches of Birkin's sadism and the relentless pain of experimentation.

Still in the same dimly lit lab, the air grew even more oppressive with tension as Albert Wesker confronted William Birkin.

Their disagreements contrasted sharply with the clinical setting, Wesker's normally stoic expression taking on a tinge of unexpected tension, and a hint of disapproval in his voice.

— «She's not just a sample, Birkin» Wesker's voice cut through the sterile atmosphere, the words carrying a weight that seemed to challenge the very core of their work.

Birkin, a scientist that always driven by ambition, glanced at Wesker with a raised eyebrow — «And what would you advise, Wesker? That i handle her with care? She's here to experiment, not to babysit»

Wesker's gaze hardened, his stance unshakable — «There is a line between scientific curiosity and cruelty, the data we collect is invaluable, but it does not justify causing unnecessary suffering to it»

Birkin's lips curled into a cynical smile — «You're attached, aren't you? To our little experiment»

Wesker's jaw clenched, but he didn't deny the accusation, instead, there was a rare note of vulnerability in his voice — «She's more than just an experiment, Birkin, there's something about her… a vulnerability i can't ignore»

Birkin's eyes sparkled with amusement — «You let sentimentality overshadow your judgment, Wesker, remember why we're here — to advance our research»

As the argument went on, Wesker's words lingered in his own memory, a discordant note in the symphony of ambition that had guided him for so long, his eyes fixed on you, your fragile frame a stark reminder of the consequences of his and Birkin's actions.

At that moment, a sudden realization hit him with a force that made him reel, he felt something — something he had long suppressed.

Guilt, Regret. And something else he dared not name, your suffering, the fear in your eyes kindled in him a coal of sympathy, a flame that challenged the calculated detachment he had cultivated.

He turned away from Birkin, his gaze was fixed on you, your vulnerability was a mirror reflecting his own, the truth he avoided, you — the one who was once just an object, became in his eyes a person — a person he could not ignore, no matter how hard he tries.

As he dealt with his conflicting emotions, the atmosphere in the lab seemed to fade, the hum of machinery less insistent, the cold walls less cramped, in this moment of introspection Wesker realized he was at a crossroads — between the brutality he had once accepted, and the compassion he now struggled with.

And just when Wesker's inner turmoil intensified, he abruptly turned away, and his steps carried him to the exit, he could no longer see your suffering, emotions seethed inside him in a chaotic whirlpool that threatened to engulf him.

He stopped in the doorway, his back turned to the scene unfolding behind him, he clenched his fists, his heart pounding as he struggled to regain his composure, his emotions a storm he had never encountered before that could destroy the carefully constructed façade he supported for so long.

And so, in a moment of overwhelming emotion, he made a decision that defied his own instincts and left you alone with Birkin, it was an act of self preservation, a desperate attempt to distance himself from the rising emotions that frightened him, he could not afford to become entangled in your suffering, could not allow newfound sympathy to consume him.

With a heavy heart, he left the room, his footsteps echoing in the hallway as he moved away from the scene he could not bear to witness, and in his absence everything around changed the silence was broken only by your soft, strained breathing and mechanical sounds.

Alone with Birkin, your vulnerability was stark against the cold, clinical setting, your eyes were a mixture of fear and despair, the weight of helplessness weighed on you, the atmosphere was a frightening reminder of the brutality you faced, a reality that seemed to loom even more in the absence Wesker.

As the experiments continued, your screams and the mechanical sounds of the laboratory merged into a dissonant symphony, an inexorable reminder of the torment you endured, and as the darkness of the room gathered around you, you were left to confront your fear and pain alone, being a prisoner of a world where cruelty and compassion existed in the fragile, unsteady balance.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Late in the evening, an eerie twilight enveloped the lab, casting elongated shadows on cold surfaces, the air thick with the remnants of the day's experiments mingled with the acrid smell of chemicals, equipment humming softly somewhere in the background, a constant reminder of the clinical nature of this place.

Albert Wesker walked down the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing off the dark walls, his usual air of stoic determination present, his gaze fixed forward as he approached the room where you was being held, but as he entered, his determination faltered to a sudden heaviness in the chest.

There you sat, crouched in the corner of the room, your figure curled up, your once bright eyes now dim and ghostly, and your frail body seemed even smaller in the dim harsh light, your breathing was ragged, each breath was a visible struggle, as if you were struggling — not only with the pain of experimentation, but also with the weight of his broken spirit.

Wesker's steps slowed, his eyes narrowed as he assessed your condition, he came to take you away for further research to continue the experiments that had been his goal for so long, but when he looked at you, something inside him changed — unexpected a pang of guilt, a crack in the façade of indifference he cultivated.

His desire to comfort you was an alien feeling that he buried under layers of ambition and detachment, the desire to lend a helping hand, to offer solace, belied his ingrained sense of control as he hesitated, his gaze met yours and for a moment he saw beyond the pain — the shattered remains a man who has endured too much.

At that moment, the clinical atmosphere of the lab gave way to a rare vulnerability, the hum of machinery seemed quieter, Wesker's internal struggles reflected on his features, the conflict between his cold exterior and the sudden warmth that surged through him.

His presence seemed to fill the room, his tall figure drawing attention even in dimmed light, there was a rare uncertainty in his typically cold gaze, a flash of emotion dancing under the surface, his outstretched hand hung in the air, fingers ready to reach out, eyes remaining chained to you.

You recoiled, your body language tense with a mixture of fear and defiance, your eyes, once dull with pain, now widened with a new sense of unease, you recoiled at his touch, the instinct to push him away was strong inside, and the clinical atmosphere of the laboratory only intensified the intensity of the moment, as if the walls were conspiring against you.

— «No!» you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and despair — «Stay away from me!»

Wesker's expression remained unreadable, his hand hung in the air, but as your words hung between you, his fingers slowly lowered, and his eyes softened slightly — «I don't want to hurt you..» he replied with a rare vulnerability in his voice.

The tension in the room was palpable as you both were here, your figures grappling in a silent battle of wills, your fear fighting the country with a spark of curiosity, a hint of the realization that Wesker was more than the ruthless image he cast.

His usual air of stoic aloofness was replaced by uncharacteristic uncertainty as he took a step closer, extending his hand once more.

Your body tensed, memories of his previous actions and the cruel experiments he witnessed etched deep in your soul as you tried to push him away, a mixture of horror and defiance fueling your actions.

His hands were trembling slightly, which was indicative of the inner struggle he was struggling with.

The closer he came with his arm outstretched, the more often you shuddered and rested against the corner of the wall, fear emanated from you, your eyes were wide open and alert, your muscles contracted as if ready to jump away, you tried to push him away, small hands weakly resisted his approach.

Wesker's expression remained calm, his eyes didn't flinch even as you struggled against his touch — «I won't hurt you, i promise» he said in an amazingly gentle voice — «I know it's hard to trust, but i promise i'm not here to hurt you anymore»

Your breathing was rapid, your chest rising and falling in a chaotic rhythm as your gaze fell on him, the room seemed to close around, the walls choking with a wounding grip, though his presence provided an unexpected reprieve.

The desire for safety fought against your instinctive fear, leaving you torn between the desire to escape and the possibility of finding any semblance of comfort.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Wesker closed the remaining distance between the two of you, his arms wrapped around your feeble body, his embrace firm but careful.

At first you struggled against his grip, your body tense with anticipation, but he held you tenderly, squeezing your wrist gently but relentlessly as your hand touched his chest, offering an anchor amidst the storm of emotion raging within you.

— «I won't let anyone hurt you anymore» he muttered, his voice a different kind of medicine contrasting with the harsh reality of your surroundings, his words a promise, a declaration of his newfound commitment to your well being.

As his words reached your consciousness, your resistance began to weaken, the tension in your body slowly subsided, replaced by fragile vulnerability, tears of their own, as if intuitively welling up in your eyes, flickering in the dim light like unshed diamonds.

You hesitated, your hands hovering over his chest as if not knowing where to put them — «Please..» you whispered in a voice trembling with despair and anguish — «I don't… i don't know who i am anymore, i-i'm scared»

Wesker's embrace intensified, pulling you closer until your head was pressed against his chest, he could feel your tears dampen his shirt, soft sobs echoing through the room — «Everything is alright..» he muttered, pressing his lips against your hair — «You're not alone anymore, i'll be here to protect you»

Your resistance collapsed completely, your fragile self defense shattered like glass, you pressed against him tighter, letting your body shake with sobs as you finally let go of the pain and fear that had built up inside.

In his arms, the environment changed again, turning the cold, sterile room into a haven where vulnerability met compassion and fear met the promise of security.

His embrace was a testament to his newfound commitment, a gesture of comfort that spoke volumes, and as your tears soaked into his shirt, he held you close, offering a rare glimpse of his humanity — a man who despite his past found himself attached to you in this way, that defied reason and ignited a glimmer of connection that none of you could have foreseen.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌«angels with silver wings» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «shouldn't know suffering» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌«i wish i could take the pain from you»

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