Save one Lullaby
A Resident Evil: Code Veronica Fanfiction
Written by Rap's ([email protected])

You don't know me.. er.. and I don't know any of you!! so.. HIIII!!!!! *waves to everyone* I usually write for Legend of Dragoon, FF8, and other RPG's. However, as a long time fan of the resident Evil Series (and with Code Veronica being my fav) I somehow found myself obligated to write this. And yes- you didn't read the title wrong. It's about Alfred Ashford.

I know you all think I'm sick. I know you all think I'm twisted- but he was my favorite character in VERONICA. *Watches everyone back away from her in horror* Well he WAS!!!! Alfred was a psychopath. A determined, over the top, utter loony that I couldn't help but love just because he was *different.*

Truthfully, it seemed that everytime you'd foil him he'd just have a rather hilarious hissy fit and then laugh like a mouse on speed. Nothing seemed to stop his insane ideals- and I'll never forget the CG scene where he's dragging himself to Alexia's chamber- muttering all the way. He has determination! he has.. er... Spunk? And I don't CARE if he looks gay! I don't CARE if he's a crossdresser! I don't CARE if he seems to have a very disturbing affinity towards his sister!

If you went through what he had- you might have ended up similar!!!!

Alfred: *cocks a flame thrower and starts to torch things* AHAHAHHAAHHA!!!!!!
BURRNN!!! ALL MUST BURNNNN!!!!!!!!!!

Me: .... uh.. yeah.... *edges away from him*

In anycase- this is short, rather bloody, and stands as a type of tribute to a kick-ass villain that just gets no respect. :) Think I'm insane for all I care- I'll always luv him. MWHAHAHH!!!

((OH YEAH!!! All Italics are either flashbacks- or Alfred's random thoughts.))




***
You actually *think* this hurts me? This Trivial wound? What fools are you to dare think I am phased by the such. What complete and utter INSOLENT creatures you are!

~This pain... gods... please make it stop! Why is it Dark!? Why am I bleeding!!??~

Well your wrong. All of you were wrong- and your still wrong. I can climb to my feet. Watch me. I can stand. I can defy your pitiful minds. Your pitiful attempts to thwart what should only be inevitable.

~I can't move. I can't breathe! I cant... cant...!!!~

Do you know what it feels like to have your life slowly drip away? Do you know the meaning of true and utter agony? Can you perceive of what fates await you?

~Please... just let me die...~

You will. She'll make you understand.

***
The distant, mournful cries of the dead were something that no longer even registered to his hearing as a frightful thing. It was a simple, unholy song. Moaned from throats of raw bleeding flesh. Torn from lungs in which air was a mere memory. Odd- that he should somehow always remember these cries. That they always seemed present- whether in his wakeful hours, or in his nightmares.

Alfred Ashford could never call them dreams.

And it was further disturbing that he should somehow find them comforting- these constant and disturbing lullabies. Blonde hair painted over a sweat-slick forehead, dull grayish eyes listlessly gazing into darkness, the echoes seemed a calming lull to the rapidly beating heart that lay seized within his body.

Funny... it were still beating, were it?

One thin, red clothed hand attempted to lift. There was a pain at his side. In his stomach. It demanded that he at least acknowledge the existence of a wound. Shoulder screaming and nerves feeling as if they had burst, five slender fingers were able to rise and gently pull at the flesh around a gaping bullet wound. His pale skin all but seemed to cave at the touch- and a burst of something warm and wet began to flood over his hand.

Alfred blinked. The only flicker of understanding- of life- over his features.

A moment or so afterwards, and there was a scream. This time not from the distant cries of the damned, but from his very own raw throat. It came as he sat forwards- a fluid, unhindered motion even as the release of pain in his voice spoke of each true agony. Each aspect of hell that he had endured his entire life.

It was not so surprising... not really... that sobbing, hysterical convulsions overtook his frame afterwards. A calamity of laughter and tears that brought blood to both his lips and body as the dreadful wound spouted more of his life. With an absent kind of grace- Alfred's right hand searched in the pitch black darkness for his rifle. Upon finding it to be missing, bones alone seemed to drag him upwards- to his feet- although every muscle served as hindrance in movement.

"Damnable..." And more laughing. More crying. "Bastard!" Came a broken sentence- threads of false, insane joy leaning up into the tones of his voice. It seemed that *reverse* in itself was a good definition of his mind. That if to hurt, one must laugh. And if to love, one must die. The truly amusing part was that some threadless, distant strings of his conscious saw these actions for the insanity they truly were. Should it simply be to little a section? To little a beginning on which stability might flourish?

~What am I? Father? What are we?~

"Monsters..." A random word- much like his steps. Each foot moved perhaps of will alone- stumbled to the driving ideal that burned behind the eyes of a child long lost. Alexia would know what to do. Alexia had always been there for him. Alexia was waiting- calling him to her chamber. Asking that he should come.

"Sister..." He coughed. The limbs beneath him began along the cold, slick floor. His arms reached for balance- reached to guide him along the wall of this place. A dark, seething tunnel.

~I've never seen a red bird, Alexia! What is it? Why does it fly?~

He grinned.

Had there been perhaps one short time that innocence still existed? That he even believed in that mythical word?

She held a knife.

Smiled.

~Dear brother- should you like to know?~

He was moving steadily now- if not awkwardly overcoming each trip and stumble with a simple defiance of the present. Beneath him ran a trail of crimson. A carpet of red where upon he might slide. Coherency did not play a part in his walking, nor his destination. But undoubtedly he would find her. Undoubtedly some part of his mind knew the way.

~I don't... want... to do this...~

Her blonde hair wavered. Angel and Demon.

~Yes. Of course you do.~

She handed him the knife and stepped behind his trembling frame. Trailed her fingers along his spine. Kissed the back of his neck.

A coldness began to lurch into his body. It were not that Alfred weren't already feeling the numbness of his limbs, but now he even shivered in a sudden, clawing surge of hate. Of fear. Ahead of him, a form shuffled in the darkness. He heard the song of it's death. The whine. Groaning. A sadistic smile etched across his thin, bloodless lips.

Insects. Mindless, small and quick. They were running over his fingers.

~All for our research, brother. All for our future.~

"BITCH!" He screamed at the rotten corpse that lunged for his neck. It's sagging, decayed flesh literally peeling away in his hands. Falling in chunks as he fought with the living dead. It's moans did not change in pitch. It could not feel pain although Alfred did most easily register the weight of it's teeth scraping over his cheek. The dead hands crackled with pus and blood as he lay entangled with the creature. Fighting off it's putrid attempts to devour his flesh under the sparse light of the hallway.

She grasped his shoulders and drew him close.

Her violet eyes looked inhuman. Hungry.

Alfred wrenched the head from it's shoulders. A literal effort of driving his entire weight onto it's skull, and then flinging himself to the ground. Gore- intestinal flesh seemed to pour from it's maggot lined stomach as he kicked outwards. Screamed again to feel his own body ripping apart at the bullet wound driven deep into his belly. What should he do now- Slopping heedlessly forwards into the corpse? Driving it away and slipping onto the placid ground of human decay?

~Father will understand, Alfred. Father used us as toys.~

Alexia's eyes gleamed with a cold acceptance. A passionate fury.

~Father should be honored.~

Father began to scream.

In a dim glow of bluish light, his eyes found themselves resting over the chamber in which Alexia slept. By now, his body were barely moving. The wounds that covered him seemed to pull backwards. Wanted to deny him this action.

Alfred only groaned in response to their persistent screams and collapsed near a small grated staircase. Rambling mutters were now lost as a searching hand managed to reach upwards. His mind summoned it's last threads of control to recall a key code.

~Your Alone now, Alfred. You'll be alone for a very long time.~

He shook his head in a single mindless gesture.

As the machinery took to working, the combination entered correctly upon the keypad above- Alfred murmured the name of his twin sister and fell entirely to the floor. What blood he had maintained was now gone. What perceptions he's once kept of the *right* and the *wrong* had long ago been stolen from his mind.

He'd done what she'd wanted.

It was completed- weren't it? She would be glad?

~God- how I hate you.~

Gears hummed and lights flickered as Alexia was brought back into life. Alfred could only let his gaze roll to one side- and observe in a listless, dead fashion as his vision began to fade. The pain too were slowly ebbing. Slowly leaving him in peace- even though he no longer truly understood what exactly *peace* could be.

A single shot.

A single wound.

And when Alexia had emerged- her brother's lifeless body strewn at her feet, she would never know what Alfred had whispered before death finally claimed him.

~To you, Steve and Claire... I thank you.~

She only heard that eerie, somehow comforting wail of the undead. A tune of mourning.

It is not mercy to save one lullaby for the damned.

~*Fin*~

MWHHAH!!! Now don't I just SUCK at writing!? *sighs* This is my first RE fic of any sort- so i would appreciate comments. ^_^ I know it was confusing- and I know the ending line musta seemed way outta context... but it makes sense to me and therefore I can put it in!! Right Alfred!?

Alfred: Shut up, you!!! I'm trying to bring your dead cat back to life!!!! *tinkering with equipment and weird looking vials*

Me: ...... *blink* uh- okay!

((I suggest we all run before he goes on another flame-thrower binge...))