Resident Evil 1. Prologue

**A/N: **Okay, people I feel like this needs a disclaimer. 1-Claire only sort of makes an appearance. 2-This is almost more prologue than anything else. 3-Wesker may be a little on the OoC side due to the fact that he is still human and thinking like one. Same rules apply as they did to Nightmare Revisted-you want more I need a combination of 10 favs, reviews, and/or alerts. Otherwise I'll just write more and let it collect dust on my computer.

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Wesker knew that he was an obsessive man. He wanted things done a certain way-papers stacked neatly in order of importance cross referenced with deadlines, uniform with immaculate creases pressed in with an iron and loose threads cut, reports written legibly with matters of most importance in the beginning details clearly listed. Mixed in with the need to obsess was the patience. It was the reason he was able to do things that others considered impossible. Time was not something that he really paid attention to, though even he had limits. It was this limit that he was reaching now. His office was separated from the open design of the rest of the S.T.A.R.S.' offices, but he kept his door open. He had learned the hard way that while his unit was more than willing to give one-hundred percent while in the field, they did not feel the same when it came to doing their paperwork. If he closed his office door he would leave to get a cup of muddy water looking, turpentine tasting beverage that passed for coffee in this place, and find Chris playing pong, Jill blindfolded and picking open a lock with Barry and Frost holding a betting match over how fast she could do it, and Vickers trying to sell multi-colored rabbits' feet to Bravo team. With the door open, he had a view into the room which meant that they would concentrate on the endless stream of paperwork the bureaucracy of a police department produced and therefore return to the productivity demanded in order for him to meet his deadlines; otherwise he really could care less what they did as long as they produced when the time came. That was not what had tested his patience. No, paperwork was as natural as breathing to him at this point and he expected a certain amount of disregard for work from his team. No, what was bothering him was a 4"x4" picture of a smiling young woman in leathers leaning against a softail Harley that sat on the corner of Chris' desk and the phantom taste of cherry lip gloss.

The blonde looked down at the pencil he had snapped in half before growling lightly and throwing the remains in the trash can under his desk. It made a faint clacking noise as it joined its other mutilated brethren. She had given him a taste and left. Granted, it had been at the hands of an overprotective brother. It had taken a week to get rid of the bruise on his lower jaw and he shuddered as he thought of the endless fawning from the secretaries. The other officers had been easy to deal with, just glaring whenever anyone asked until they got uncomfortable and dropped the subject. The secretaries has seemingly decided that he had gotten it doing something heroic and were determined to use it as an excuse to get into his pants. But none of them had been her-that odd blend of fire and innocence wrapped up in a lovely young shell. But even if he wanted to ignore the fact that pursuing her would result in losing one of the best members of his team, Chris had been very clear in the frequent news updates he gave his team members; she was still in high school. That meant that if someone found out he wouldn't just have to deal with Chris attempting to beat the shit out of him, but he would likely lose his job at the police department and that meant his cover. Not to mention the respect he was carefully cultivating from the members of his team. He inhaled and closed his eyes. All this stress just from one kiss, one fucking taste of the forbidden. And he knew that was part of why his obsessive nature was fixating on her. She had been nothing more than a way to taunt Irons up until that second Chris had punched him in the jaw and told him without words that he couldn't have her. Wesker always got what he wanted, but this need to possess was dangerous to the goals he had set for himself. Deciding that he was not going to get any more work done here with his need to stare at her picture he grabbed his jacket and keys. Maybe some time in the labs would help. Sleep he didn't even want to contemplate.

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William Birkin had known Wesker longer than likely anyone else on the planet. The two of them went back to the days where they had been researchers in training and killing their mentor had solidified whatever the two of them had into an unbreakable bond. Which was why he had two beers sitting on the single unused lab table, cooled in the liquid nitrogen refrigerator, white steam rising from them and tops popped off. Wesker had taken leave of the lab once he had realized just how close Spencer's collar had come to choking off his air and the fact that he had not just ventured down here-he came on occasion to make sure William had not died from lack of food or some such- once but five times this past week told him that something was very much bothering him. William had an idea of what it was that was bothering him. So he was unsurprised when he heard the swish of the automated door and the measured gait of combat boots on the polished antimicrobial flooring.

"I must be becoming predictable, William," Wesker said as he picked up the longneck bottle and watched the other man scurry around putting up the more delicate pieces of equipment. The other man shrugged and leaned against the metal fridge after swiping his own drink.

"No more than you've ever been," the lab coat wearing man said before taking a deep swallow of the Sam Adams. Wesker sighed and rubbed his temples with one gloved hand. William watched the motion, his sleepy overworked appearance covering up a sharp, observant mind. He would not have survived their world without it even as he felt the paranoia seeping in too deep. He wondered how long it would be before he and Wesker were at each other's throats. "So, why haven't you gone after her?" he asked as the silence dragged out and he decided he had had enough of the blonde's moping without moping. The blonde's head came up sharply and he looked at the other man for a second. Had he developed the power to read minds between the last time had seen him and now? Was that the power of his new virus? "Don't look at me like that, Albert. We're too much alike, you and I," he saluted his companion with his beer. "We're obsessive men. One day our obsessions will most likely kill us, but that is neither here nor there. No, I knew it had to be a woman because your work with T has been satisfactory as of late-you said so yourself. Work with the team you're setting up in the police department is coming along if slow. Which left me with your other appetites." Wesker raised one eyebrow as he leaned against the lab table that was bolted to the floor. He had never had the joy of being the subject of William's considerable observation skills. It was a very good thing neither one of them actively meant the other harm. The resulting clash would likely tear Umbrella to pieces not to mention the outside world.

"Do go on, William," he encouraged one hand gripping the table behind him the other raising the beer to his lips. The researcher felt a little bit of the tension in his body leave him. There had always been a chance Wesker would not like what he was saying or decide that he knew too much. That would result in his death more than likely. William had no interest in combat beyond building better organic weaponry. He'd likely pay for it one day.

"With the way you're acting she must be out of your reach, though I find that hard to believe," William offered him a smirk. He knew too well just how much of a lady's man the other could be when he put his mind to it. He had once feared leaving Annette alone with him until Wesker had expressed his full lack of interest in the woman. Apparently, he felt some kind of honor was due whatever their relationship was and he had no intention of poaching William's single attempt at a love life. "Is she a co-worker? A member of your team perhaps? The wife or relative of one of them? Hmm?" The blonde took his time in answering him, carefully considering just how much information he was going to give him.

"She's seventeen," he stated flatly and a piercing whistle split the air followed by barely contained sniggering. "I fail to see how this is funny."

"It's rich, Albert," William stated using the hand holding his beer to wipe away the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. "You, the man who can have any woman, held back from your current obsession by your other obsession-work. I do believe they call this irony." Wesker made a face.

"Ha ha," he said taking a deeper swallow of his beer. "You're not the one who has to see her every day when you go to work or hear about every little damn thing she does because her brother worships the ground she walks on. You'd think he was her father." William quickly sobered up from his laughing fit and frowned. He knew how dangerous unchecked obsession was. That was the reason most serial killers got caught. The police put the heat on and they tried to bank the obsession, stop themselves. The longer they held it in the darker and deeper that well of obsession became until they could no longer control it at all. This team member was unknowingly taunting Wesker and he couldn't do anything about it without revealing the obsession. It would only be a matter of time before the other man snapped.

"Damn it, Albert," William said running his hand through his already disheveled hair. "What are you going to do about this?" Wesker shrugged and downed the tail end of his beer.

"What can I do, William?" his voice was thick with weariness on the subject. "There's nothing I can do without compromising the situation."

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Wesker knew that he was dreaming. It was the only way that his situation made sense and then again that was using the word loosely. He was sitting in his living room and it wasn't the one of his current apartment. It was the one from back when he first started working in the labs and Umbrella was desperate to keep him-all black leather furniture and dark polished hardwood. There was even a fire in the huge marble fireplace he never used. But that was not what clued him into the fact that he was dreaming. No, that was the figure sauntering her way towards him clad in nothing but one of his dress shirts which she hadn't even bothered to button. The sight was more than enough to heat his blood especially when she sat on his lap and looked at him from under her eyelashes radiating the innocence he wanted so desperately to crush with his own two hands. She leaned up and kissed him, her lips soft against his own slightly chapped ones. He raised one hand so he cupped the back of her neck and was in control of the kiss, the other snaking under the dress shirt so that his fingers splayed on the warm, soft skin of her back and pulled her closer. Here, in his dreams she wasn't the seventeen year old sister of his unit's marksman and he wasn't a spy for Umbrella. Here he was an obsessed man with the object of his obsession in his grasp. And it was like a drug-the high glorious as it rushed through his veins from being in control and in _possession_. He licked the seam of her lips and tasted cherries even as she opened them making that little helpless sound that haunted him. It went straight to his groin, the hand on her back gently guiding her hips to roll against his even as he plundered her lips. She was his and he would teach her exactly what he wanted. She would not know anyone else. Ever.

She had one hand fisted in the fabric of his uniform shirt and he didn't care about the fact he was wearing it or that she was wrinkling it at the moment. She was rolling against him in the rhythm he had set without his guidance now and he slid the hand that had been on her back across her stomach before dipping fingers down. The patch of curls was coarser than her hair against his fingers but he didn't care as that was not what he was seeking. He let her pull her head away as his index and pointer finger found her wet heat causing her to let out the most beautiful keen. A keen that sounded oddly like his alarm clock. He frowned but before he could do anything, he was thrust out of the dream and into the world of the living. Eyes snapped open to look at the red digital letters as the electronic screech played itself out. He smashed the off button with more force than needed and sat up stifling a groan. He had woken up in the same condition he had every morning since that damn Halloween party. He let out a growl of frustration as he ripped the sheets off his body and glared down at the part of his body betraying him. It wasn't just typical morning wood either. That he could take care of with a cold shower and remembering the footage he had been forced to delete of Annette and William and drastic misuse of lab equipment. No, with this he was forced to take matters into his own hand like some sort of hormonally driven teenager-something he had thought he had managed to skip altogether. To make matters worse there was only one way he would cum now, too. He had to imagine those eyes looking at him, her body clasped around his, his name leaving those damn lips in despair as she cried out the name of the man who owned her. This, he decided as he made his way to the bathroom, was getting fucking ridiculous.

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Reviews for Paralyzer cause this is sort of a sequel to that one-shot.

Ultimolu: Chris is the perfect combination of big brother and dad. Which makes me wondered just what he would do if he knew where Wesker's thoughts were…

AlarataraWitchIce: Here's more without being more and perhaps the start of something. Well, see when I get done with the Code: Veronica book. It is giving me all sorts of evil ideas.

Naoko Suki: Your review made me very happy. I like the idea of them meeting in some off the wall way earlier on in Chris' career. Course she's going to haunt Wesker for the rest of the time now. You can always ask for more, btw. You're more likely to get it if you ask.

Lime Ricky: Glad you loved it. Here's the more in its own prologue like form.

DS: More cherries and more story!

Olabelle: I like looking at the psychosis that made Wesker into our lovable human race killing tyrant and that's mostly where this came from. When he becomes inhuman Wesker he's not going to have that self-control switch. Afterall, a God always gets what he wants.

Project X: More and the starting of perhaps a new fic. Still think it's a little short, but then again it wasn't supposed to exist at all.

AdaWongTN: Wesker actually made rumblings about the punch and I had to talk him out of firing him. If he did that there would be no mansion incident, ya know? There should be a sprinkling of humor to this one too.

Krylancelo: It said that Chris had been with S.T.A.R.S. for two years and Claire was 19 during the Raccoon City outbreak, which would make her 17 went they met. Don't worry, age is something time takes care of.

Ehehehehe: Glad you liked it once motive got introduced. I hope Wesker doesn't seem too out of character in this. I tried really hard to express the combination of things that made Wesker fixate on her.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N:** And we earn our M-rating with this. It's mostly a lemon, but needed in order to get where we're going so this doesn't turn into a collection of interconnected one-shots. I'm worried Claire may have come across a little OoC with this-which is odd. Normally it's Wesker I have to beat in order to get anything out of him. Oh, well. Enjoy~

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"Tempt not a desperate man."

~Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet_

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She wasn't sure what triggered it. One second she had been sitting in her brother's chair at his desk, waiting for him to get back from a patrol that was running too long-the next she was in his boss' office back against the door his lips on hers. She could remember being bored and seeking out the only other human being in the place she knew. The blonde had looked good in his uniform-he always did though this was the first time they had been alone since the Halloween party three months before. Her brother had gone out of his way to make sure that she was never alone at any work function since. So Claire had been forced to watch him out of the corner of her eye; hanging on every word someone spoke about the man she had made out with in a closet. Not that she had ever dreamed of doing something like this. No, she was content to crush on him from afar like a half-assed stalker. So, the moment she realized her brother would not be back from his patrol for another hour or so thanks to an accident on one of the main thoroughfares, she had gone to the office door and leaned against it. She remembered watching him as he worked not bothering to acknowledge her presences for minutes that felt like they stretched into hours. Then his voice, just as deep and dark as she remember had cut across her thoughts of what it would be like to have his attention the way that he was giving it to his documents-purposeful and intent.

"If you're going to stare at me at least take a seat, Miss Redfield," she had felt her cheeks color at his words but she walked into the office nonetheless and sat in the hard back chair. The silence had stretched then, long and thick. He seemed content to ignore her, though she could see the tension in his body with the way he gripped the pencil in his hand. But he had given her permission to stare, hadn't he? It didn't matter-she knew that she would've ended up watching him anyway. But the silence between them was anticipatory though she knew not for what. The tick of the clock above the door and the scratch of pencil on paper the only sounds. So, she began to fill it unaware of just how much tighter she was winding the man sitting across from her with the sound of her voice. She told him of her Christmas, the new hunting knife Chris had given her, how she had managed to get into NYU and was going to study literature, ending with the funny story of how drunk her brother had gotten at her eighteenth birthday party before stopping at the sound of the pencil breaking between the man's fingers. She swallowed harshly and wondered at what kind of strength he had to have in order to break a pencil one handed like that. He had looked up then-eyes the color of the winter sky over the rim of his sunglasses-and she couldn't help but imagine this was what a deer felt like seconds before the wolves gave chase.

"You're eighteen?" the question was odd to her, but she was still under the spell of those eyes. She gave a single nod, licking her lips, and wondered what was so special about what she had said. She was reminded of the night they meant and that split second she had wondered whether she was trading one psycho for another worse one. A shiver went through her body at the sound of his chair sliding back and she was on her feet. She didn't know what had changed but she was sure she did not want to stick around to see what it was. She remembered snatches of conversation between the different S.T.A.R.S. members about how odd their captain could be. How sometimes he would say something completely normal and it would make all of them uneasy. Before she could move he was on her side of the desk and she was cursing her mind's need to bring up thoughts that got in the way. She backed up; instinct telling her it was likely a bad idea to turn her back on him.

"Ummm," Claire said her mouth running as it always did when she was nervous, "I think I've outstayed my welcome. I'll just go wait at Chris' desk." She couldn't help the sigh she almost let out when her foot touched the threshold of the office doorway. The look on his face was pure amusement, but not the warm kind she was used to seeing on a person. It was something else. He lifted one hand and pointed above her head. Confused she looked up. Hanging in the doorway, tied with a bright red ribbon was a sprig of what she knew was mistletoe. She opened her mouth confused and never got a chance to voice the question. There was a gloved hand under her chin, tilting her head slightly to the side even as his lips pressed to hers. Oh, she thought as the nerves and beginnings of fear leaked out of her, oh. The kiss was oddly chaste for the heat it was stroking in her; just lips moving against lips like they were taking up right where they had left off.

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Wesker wondered if having her sitting there in front of his desk was the universe's way of punishing him for everything he had done over the years. He had known the second she had entered the S.T.A.R.S. offices. Nothing about her was quiet including the clothes she wore. Tight black pants tucked into worn snow boots, a thick, bright, v-necked, purple sweater, a black turtleneck underneath and a pink padded snow vest. She had headed straight for her brother's desk and his paperwork was momentarily forgotten so he could drink her in-the dark craving in his chest like a beast trying to claw its way free from his chest. He knew how easy it would be to drag her into his office and lock the door. He knew she would melt against him the second his lips touched hers. But he had forced it back-shoving it away with the same steely force that allowed him to kill without remorse. He still had a job to do here, so he could not give in. He glared down at the report he had been working on for Umbrella and wondered if it was possible for him to ignite it with his gaze. Maybe he should send a call down to dispatch and have them send Chris back regardless of whatever kind of trouble the man had managed to get himself into. But then she was at the doorway and he couldn't do it without making her suspicious of just why he was willing to do that. He continued trying to work, reading the report of one of the few scientists he trusted to continue his work on T, but the monster of obsession was screaming in the back of his head-images of her spread on his desk, hair mussed and eyes heavy lidded with passion danced across his mind. He opened his mouth to tell her to go away but what came out of his mouth was something else. It was like the obsession had severed the nerve connection between his rationale mind and his mouth. It was all he could do not to look up at her and continue scratching notes in the margin of the report. Then she had opened her mouth and starting talking. He only gave the meaning of her words a half-thought the rest of his mind trying to fight off the sensory input of what she would sound like in the throes of passion, sounds she would only make for him. He kept up his pretense of notes, knowing that he was likely going to have to go through everything all over again. Then a single line caught his attention and the pencil was snapping in his fingers. The twin black beasts of obsession and possession roared through him at the confirmation of her age. It was shocking enough that one barrier was gone it left him off balance and his control _slipped_.

The blonde saw her fear at whatever was in his eyes and delighted in it for a few seconds too long. The methodical, logical part of his brain was on the back burner and, as such, she had started heading towards the door before it had caught up enough to tell him that if he was really going to do this the last thing he needed was her afraid of him. His eyes snapped to the sprig of mistletoe Jill had hung from his doorway as a prank and which he had kept as it kept the rest of the team away from his office unless absolutely necessary. A small smirk of amusement lit his face at her babble even as he pointed up. He took the second she was distracted by looking up and caught up with her. He grasped her chin, wanting her to understand that this was what he wanted and he was taking it now. Her lips were soft against his, warm even as his tongue snaked out to see if she still tasted like cherries. Wesker smirked into the kiss as it registered that she did even as she opened her mouth so willing and hot. Careful not to frighten her off and more than willing to savior the moment, he slid his tongue into her mouth and she made that little half-whimper sigh that haunted his dreams. He decided he was not going to be interrupted this time. He broke the kiss to pull her fully into the office, closing the door and tripping the lock with his other hand. She opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off pushing her up against the door as he captured her lips again. One of her hands was on his shoulder, the other in his hair, but he let it go as she was not trying to control him with it. One of his hands was fending off the layers of her clothing to get at her skin, the other controlling the tilt and angle of her head as he devoured her mouth, and one knee worked its way between her legs. She was not giving him a taste and running. This time he was taking a full sampling and it would sate the obsession as it had all the others.

Claire was practically boneless under the onslaught. She had never dealt with anything like this. She was barely eighteen and a tomboy at that. The most she had ever done was a little bit of heavy petting in the back of an old Chevy. This was like sensory overload and he was only kissing her. She didn't bother trying to keep up with his lips, his tongue, his mouth-just letting him take what he wanted. She didn't think about the fact that this was her brother's boss, a man old enough to be her father, or the fact that they were in his office-just shuddered as a leather clad hand slid under her shirts and began moving up. She whimpered in need as he broke the kiss and the hand found the sports bra covered breast. She felt herself blush lightly as she remembered just how unsexy her underwear was and just how much experience this man likely had. She opened her mouth to apologize, tell him that she had no experience, but it was cut off with a sound from her throat as he pinched a hardening nipple through the fabric of her bra. His other hand was snapping buttons on her vest, and she it was everything she could do to remain upright-both hands gripping the fabric of his rig.

If Wesker had not lost control before, that noise she made would've done it. He let himself support her weight as his lips found an earlobe to suck and nibble on. He could feel her clenching and unclenching her hands in the leather straps of his rig even as he was forced to leave her perfectly shaped breast in order to coax them off in order to get the vest off. It was followed quickly by the sweater and the turtle neck-the garments hitting the office floor with soft swishes. It wasn't until he reached for the hem of the sports bra, something he found oddly sexier than the lacy bits he was used to, that she reached up putting her hands over his to stop him. He looked at her then, eyes lit with desire as he peered at her over the sunglasses. Claire felt her breath hitch at the look and had to swallow before she could attempt to speak.

"I've…," she inhaled the smell of cologne as she gathered her courage and feared breaking the moment. "I've never…" She let out a little helplessly frustrated sound at her lack of ability to admit it out loud, but his finger was on her lips. When Wesker realized what she was saving he wondered if it was humanly possible to get any harder. True, his fantasies had her a virgin he could corrupt with his own hand, but he knew chances weren't in his favor. Having her just about admit as much to him was intoxicating. If she had ever had a chance of making it out of his office it was gone now. He noted the blush staining her cheeks and the way she bit her lip as she watched him. Her innocence was more tempting than anything he'd had offered to him before.

"I know," he told her removing the finger he had placed on her lips and sliding the tips of his fingers under the hem of her bra. She let him, one hand untucking his shirt from his pants.

"And you still…?" Claire asked a little unbelieving even as she felt him against her thigh, the warmth of his skin on the pads of her fingers as she slid her hand under his shirt. He stilled his movements-lips against the pulse point of her throat, bra halfway revealing her breasts-a horrible thought coming to him.

"Do you want me to stop?" Wesker asked even as he continued kissing his way down her shoulder. She shivered as the feeling of his lips on her skin was like a livewire straight to the pool of heat beginning in the pit of her stomach. Her mind went over all the reasons she should say yes. They were tired and worn, and this felt so good. She had wanted him, sure, but never thought she would get him. Was she really going to say no?

"No," Claire whispered wondering just what she was getting into as he bit down on the skin where her shoulder met her neck and thought fled. She let out a little whimper, her nails digging into the skin of his back under his shirt. He then soothed it with his tongue a smirk on his lips. He knew that it would bruise and the idea of marking her as his thrilled him. He lifted the bra above her head and drank in the sight of her breasts like a parched man presented with water. His mind hadn't been able to conjure this kind of perfection. He cupped them in his hands before running a thumb over the nipples. Her reaction was instinctive and he had to bite back a groan as she rocked her hips. He kissed a trail down her breast bone before moving across to place a feather light kiss against one dark peak. Her reaction was a startled inhale and when his lips covered it to suckle a hand fisted in his hair and another clung to his shoulder. He used one hand to play with the other, a dark delight lighting in his soul at the knowledge of the fact that it was _him_ making her react this way. The free hand was unbuttoning the clasp on her pants. Claire was unnoticing of the action, her mind clouded with the pleasure of what he was doing elsewhere. He removed his hands, going up to kiss her once more as he stripped off his leather gloves wanting to feel her against his bare flesh. One hand continued playing with the hardened point of her breast, fully enjoying the little helpless moans she kept making, the other sliding under the edge of her panties. He cupped her feeling just how very wet she was and she broke the kiss nearly cracking her head on the office door.

"Wesker," she moaned his name loud enough that he was concerned with someone hearing for a split second. Then she was kissing him in abandonment as he ran a finger across her folds to part them and she whimpered into the kiss. This, he decided as he inserted a finger into her sex and she cried out, was better than any dream and it was _his_. It was this thought that had him picking her up, thighs wrapping around his waist, and laying her on the desk papers scattering like snowflakes around her. Claire let out a needy noise and came up to her elbows as he stepped away. There was a heavy thunk as his utility belt hit the tiled floor. The button on his pants came next and she suddenly felt nervous enough to vomit. But she bit her lip and grasped her own pants and underwear. Hell, if she was going to let him do this and it would be a good distraction to the nerves mixing with the desire in her stomach. She had just started to tug them down when his hand caught hers. He leaned down and kissed her one hand pushing gently if firmly against her shoulder. She lay back down amongst the few papers that had not scattered when he put her there. Claire felt a tug at her pants and lifted her hips to help him as he worked them down. Her knees hung over the edge of the desk as he left her lips to spread her thighs. She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch. What if he didn't like what he saw? She was an eighteen year old girl-a virginal eighteen year old girl. She had no doubt that he had likely had other lovers. What if he looked at her and decided that he wanted someone who knew what they were doing? Hell, she hadn't really touched him so caught up was she in what he had been doing to her. She bit her lips in trepidation.

Nothing could've been further than the truth. Wesker looked at her spread before him like a predator looked at prey. She was perfect and she was _his_. He wanted to memorize this look on her and he tossed his sunglasses into his chair so that he could see her without the filter. He ran his hands up the inside of her thighs and felt her shudder. He watched her eyes come open as he ran his thumbs across the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He leaned over her and kissed her, gently reassuring her nerves to keep her from bolting. Carefully, he positioned himself at her entrance before sliding the tip in. He felt her bite into his bottom lip but ignored it as his body shook from the amount of control he was exhibiting not to thrust full force into the tight, wet, heat that was her. Claire didn't notice it feeling the knife pinch of her virgin entrance being entered for the first time. The pain lingered for seconds but was gone as she released his lip to suck on it in apology. The blonde let out a sigh as he pushed himself the rest of the way into her tight heat before easing himself back out again. He could feel her walls clenching at him, trying to keep him there. Her hands had slipped under his shirt and rested on his back, nails biting in every time he thrust his body slowly stroking her fire. The blonde sped his movements at the noises she made, her blue green eyes locking with his ice blue ones. He wondered if it was possible to drown in a color as he adjusted his angle slightly and her eyes closed head tilting back and exposing her neck. He teased the expanse with lips and teeth wishing the marks wouldn't fade so everyone would know who she belonged to.

"God!" Claire cried uncaring of who could possibly hear as he hit some spot inside her and she was suddenly moving her hips with his wordlessly demanding he go fast, harder. He smirked as he heard her call him god, lifting one of her thighs to wrap around his waist and let him go deeper. She was his now and no one would touch her but him. The thought was in the forefront of his mind as he began slamming into her and she writhed beneath him. She was breathing heavy as she felt something coiling tighter and tighter in her stomach. She clung to him with her body, eyes glazed with pleasure as she looked into his eyes. For a second, she thought she saw something dark there just behind his eyes but her orgasm was rocking through her and the thought was gone. Her eyes went unseeing with the pleasure, nails digging in hard enough to leave lightly bloody trails, as she clenched around him like a vise. "Wesker," his name was a prayer and plea on her lips as she let herself sink into the pleasure. Wesker thrust himself into that almost painful tightness a few more times before his body toppled over the edge after her. He barely managed to keep himself from collapsing on top of her as he caught his breath. A smirk lit his lips at the sight of her spent beneath him, her eyes struggling to open. He raised a hand to move a dark strand of hair out of her eyes and froze at the sound of laughter he recognized. Apparently she did too, as her eyes snapped open and she was pushing him off her. They both stood, Claire wincing as she felt something run down her inner thigh. But she had no time, and was shoving herself into her clothes just as fast as Wesker was. He was done quicker, having only his pants and belt, and she felt a brief flash of anger at him. Why was she completely undressed and he wasn't? It was gone the second he was helping her snap the buttons on her vest in a silent request for her to move faster. There was nothing they could do about the mess of an office as they heard the door to the S.T.A.R.S. office open and Claire heard her brother's voice. Wesker popped the lock on the door by turning the handle but she grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him in for a kiss. It was sloppy and quick, and judging from the look on the blonde's face unexpected. She winked at him as she slid out the door a distraction already on her tongue for her brother.

* * *

Reviews:

Mirrordjyn: Omg, I never knew how much I would like William until I wrote him. He strikes me as a demented Bill Nye the Science guy for some reason and he had to be more lovable than Wesker, 'cause he actually has a wife and kids. He shall make another appearance before he gets all G obsessed. And I'm still slogging through the stuff needed to get to the actually game timeline. Next chapter should place us pretty close if not in RE0. Hope you still like this.

Littlemonsterteeth: Thanks for subscribing and fav-ing. I got what I asked for so you get more story.

Naoko Suki: Claire is sort of top priority to Wesker in order to get her out of his head so he can be 'normal' again. 'Course he's about to learn that some obsessions run deeper than others. Poor Wesker. Hope I'm still managing to keep him out of OoC territory. I'm actually more worried about Claire in this chapter. 'Fraid she may have come across as slutty-which is totally not what I want. I'm so Glad that Paralyzer made such an impression on you. Hope this story is working its way in.

Evil-Dust-Bunny: Here's more. Still good?

Ririrdono: Yay! Someone else who enjoys torturing Wesker. Of course he has no idea just what depths I shall torture him with in this fic. –evil cackle-

Olabelle: Hope you still like his human side. I'm trying to fit him in the sociopath box but he keeps claiming he wants to be in the serial killer box, too. And poor Claire has no idea…

Spark of Insanity: Not so much psychological Wesker in this chapter, but it was needed in order to get to the point where this is something other than a loosely strung together series of one-shots. Next Chapter will definitely have more of Wesker thinking too much with a little bit of Claire doing the same.

Fany-li: Don't worry about the English. I'm actually really flattered and delighted that I have Spanish-speaking fans. It makes my day when I get a review or PM from one of you. Hope you still like my Wesker…

Ehehehehehe: I really hope they are still in character. Sometimes you have to bend them a little to get there where they need to be, but I hope I didn't sacrifice their believability to get them where they needed to go. As for Wesker and Birkin, Birkin is totally Wesker only friend. My beta actually got after me about the two of them. Mostly, it was about the practicality of drinking in the middle of a virus infested lab. But we know they totally wouldn't care… I'm glad that you are reviewing this. It makes me happy that I can pull reviews out of people. They are like my muse's food.


	3. Chapter 2

**a/n:** not sure I like how this chapter ended, though I did get close to the normal word count per chapter with this one. I'd like to remind everyone that Claire is newly eighteen and I think she is very levelheaded and far-thinking which should explain her reaction to everything. Enjoy!

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To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.  
~Emily Dickinson

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The first place Claire headed once she and her brother made it to the small apartment he kept was the bathroom. Her excuse of aching was true-now that Wesker wasn't doing wicked things to her body she was sore-but the part about it being due to having to catch the Grey Hound in order to get to Raccoon with the light dusting of snow on the ground was pure fiction. He had told her he was going to get Chinese take-out from down the way while she was in the shower and it barely registered. She had no idea what she had even told him to pick up for her. She turned the knob on in his walk in shower making a face at herself in the small mirror that also served as his medicine cabinet. She was still unsure how she felt about the whole thing-not the part about telling him he could have his way with her. That was the best part of the whole odd thing and the part she wouldn't mind repeating. The experience had been mind blowing even if she hadn't imagined her first time would be rushed in the office of a police captain. It was the rest of it that bothered her. She tossed her shirts off and frowned as she looked at her neck in the mirror. Her eyes widened even as she traced the outline of the trail of hickies that reached from her shoulder to at least halfway up her neck. That bastard! All she had brought to sleep in was a pair of comfy pants and an old t-shirt whose neckline had long since been stretched out from excessive wear. There was no way she could hide this from her brother. Wasn't toothpaste supposed to do something about them? Or was that for acne? She let out a frustrated little sound as she rolled her eyes. She'd just be sure she was still asleep when Chris left for work. Her boots came off next followed by her pants-all of which was thrown into a makeshift heap against the wall as her brother had never taken to the idea of actually owning a hamper. It was her underwear that got the slow treatment. It was still damp, more than likely the result of her body heat. She looked at it and her face resembled a tomato. There was a pinkish substance there-likely the mixture of her virgin's blood and his… The brunette bit her lip before tossing the underwear away from her and rushing into the shower breathing hard. Oh, God, what had she done?

Claire barely felt the burn of the too hot water as the consequences of her actions swirled around her mind. She had just had sex with her brother's boss-a man she knew next to nothing about except the snatches she had managed to catch from her brother and his co-workers. Most of those dealt with the fact he seemed to be some kind of cold hearted prick even if he was good at his job. She let out a groan and leaned her forehead on the tiled wall. What did this even mean to him? Did she think she was some kind of slut? Good for a quick fuck and nothing else? Her eyes narrowed and she figured she'd have to make sure he realized just how far off that idea was. Was she just a way to blow off steam? Did it even mean anything at all? Was he interested in her or had she just been convenient? A sigh left her lips as she reached for a wash cloth and the generic soap her brother kept in his shower for her. It wasn't until she had started washing away the evidence that the water hadn't gotten to that another, scarier thought hit her. What if she was pregnant? She wasn't on the pill and he hadn't used a condom. She knew from the sex ed class she had been forced to take in high school that all it took was once… She squeezed her eyes shut. What would he do then? She couldn't imagine having a baby and not at least telling the father. Would he want her to abort it? She could not see herself doing something like that, but she was eighteen! She didn't have a steady source of income besides her brother. Oh, God, what would Chris say, think? She knew he would not turn her out on the streets, but he had worked so hard to get her into college and to think she may have thrown it all away for sex with his boss… The first sob of her half-panic burned her throat as she sunk to the floor of the shower, suddenly glad Chris had left to get them dinner. Christ, what had she done?

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Wesker sat in the room of his modest house that served as both his office and library in a plush, black leather chair, a glass of brandy in a tumbler on the small table next to the chair. A fairly thick stack of reports and folders were next to the alcohol-forgotten for the moment. His black tinted sunglasses rested low on his nose as he leaned forward on his elbows, hands folded under his chin. His crystalline blue eyes were far away but focused a sight that would be familiar to anyone who had worked with him when he was trying to solve a particularly nasty riddle of some kind. The beginnings of a frown tugged at the corner of his mouth as he thought. He had thought with the taking of her, the corruption of part of her innocence, the need to possess and claim would leave like it had before. But with the flashes of her his mind interrupted him with-the echoes of the sounds she made still ringing in his ears, the imagine of that wink as she exited, the taste of her as she kissed him on the way out-he knew that the obsession was far from satisfied. He licked his dry lips as the idea of just how dangerous this was getting to be. He had given in partially because he felt it would sate his desire and allow him to move on with his work. The blonde leaned back in the chair and reached for the brandy. He sipped it and adjusted himself so that he was more comfortable in the chair-legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle, head resting against the back of the chair. The work uniform had been exchanged for comfortable black slacks and long sleeve shirt, though his work gun was on a bookshelf in easy reach. He knew how Umbrella 'fired' its employees and he knew just about how much notice they gave. He himself had 'fired' his own fair share of them after becoming a field agent. A hand weaved itself through his hair as he thought about his issue. He supposed, until this obsession ran its course, he could play the part of courting her. Granted, he'd rather not have to deal with the older Redfield and his reaction to the whole thing. His jaw ached in memory of what he had earned for kissing her. Perhaps he could manage to convince her that it would be unwise to inform him straight away? Or better yet not at all?

He set the now empty tumbler back on the side table and spared only a passing thought on the fact he had no memory of drinking it. This seemed to be the best course of action as no work was going to get done otherwise. He had the distinct feeling he was going to need to change desks in the morning just so he could get something done. She wasn't within ten feet of him and he was having trouble doing nothing more than reading through reports. Wesker let out a little growl of irritation as he reached for the folder on top. Well, he had made his decision and his mind was going to just have to deal with the fact she wasn't here. He shoved the thoughts about her into the corner of his mind. He had to concentrate on what this moron was saying about T and the Spencer mansion. Something about it was off and he knew it.

* * *

William Birkin looked at the old man on the TV monitor and had to swallow back the warring emotions of disgust and fear. He was balding with lank white hair and the wheel chair he sat in was clearly visible as it took up most of the background behind him. This was the man who owned the largest stake in Umbrella Corp, the man who gave the order for Wesker and himself to kill off their mentor. He felt disgust at the wizened creature for the fact that this man had no idea of just what he and his fellows had discovered. He had no idea of the beauty of the viruses-of the sheer poetry of something that could rip DNA apart and put it back together within seconds. He was only interested in the potential for immortality the virus offered-immortality that would be wasted on him. The fear came into play because he had so much to lose. His research was not his own but belonged to the company. He knew that if they ever decided to come and get it he would die. It was something that he had thought he had made peace with long ago, but with things advancing as they were he was starting to understand why Wesker had chosen the path he had. He also knew that the man in the chair would have no issue with killing Annette and Sherry in order to make sure he stayed focused on his task. But what this man was asking for was something that his being screamed against and he knew something that would kill him if the deceit was ever found out.

"You want me to what?" William asked his voice soft and thick from disuse. Wesker had not been back recently and Annette was busy dealing with their ten year old daughter. He had been down in the lab with no one else for a very long time. He knew better than to trust someone else with his research. That was how Marcus had gotten killed: let Wesker and himself too close.

"Just think of it as the last step in an experiment started before your time, Birkin," the old man's voice was oily and slick despite the age of it. It was clear how this man had accumulated so much power even with his royal name. "I'll even let you peek at the files on it. It's not like you can leak them to anyone. I'm sure they'll pike your scientific interest." Birkin wondered how he could be so eager to get his hands on the documents and so disgusted with himself. Wesker was his _friend_. His only friend as a matter of fact. But he also knew that Wesker would likely think little if anything about doing something like this to him. He would ensure that even if he was made to betray the one person he could actually trust no one else would ever be able to touch him. Because William Birkin could not allow anything viral to pass through his hands without putting his own touch on it. What else were friends for?

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Claire bit her lip as she looked at her appearance in the mirror one last time. Her hair was pulled back in its characteristic ponytail, though the band was a string of fake pearls. Light make-up dusted her face and the black low-cut sweater was going to look good under the bomber jacket her brother had given her with the dark blue jeans and wedge heeled black snow boots. It was a good thing that she healed as fast as she did. She had been afraid of her brother finding the marks Wesker had left behind and being forced to explain things to him. It was New Year's Eve and she was going with her brother to the unofficial party the local bar was holding. Most of the department was going to be there and that was the reason she was going. It had been three days since the encounter in her brother's Captain's office and she needed to feel him out in case the worst had happened. Her break-down in the shower had been brief and she was once more her stubborn self. She had gotten herself into this mess and she would see it through. She winked at herself for courage as her brother yelled for her to hurry up.

"I'm coming," she called as she left the small bathroom and grabbed her jacket off the back of a chair on the way. Chris leaned against the front doorframe an intense look his eyes. She slipped the jacket on and frowned at him. "Is something wrong, big bro?"

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" he said slowly and Claire was forced to shove down a bundle of nerves that lodged in her throat. Had he figured things out.

"Yeah, why?" she asked even as his eyes studied her face. He sighed and shook his head. His instincts had been screaming about something being off with his sister and the amount of time he had spent on police work told him to trust his instincts. But this was his sister, not a suspect.

"Nothing," Chris said as he moved out of the doorway so they could make their way to his beaten up jeep. "Sometimes I think we're growing apart, Claire-bear." The nickname brought a smile to her face and she turned to him while they waited for the elevator to hug him.

"We'll always be brother and sister, silly. Nothing can change that," she let herself take comfort and courage from him as he hugged her back. "Blood is always thicker than water."

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Wesker had thought that his opinion on the level of intelligence employed by the Raccoon City couldn't get any lower, and then someone had said free champagne at midnight. Naturally, that meant they were doing everything possible to end up drunk before then. He raised his lip in disgust, thumb firmly over the top of his long neck-he'd seen the looks most of the females in the room where giving him-and reminded himself why he was here. The blonde had overheard Chris mention that he was coming along with the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. crew which meant it was likely Claire would be here, too. She tended to follow her brother like a puppy and he knew from overhearing conversations among his unit that she often acted as her brother's driver when he went drinking. Unfortunately, they were late and he was rapidly getting his fill of this 'social scene'. Birkin was asking for him to come down to the lab and if she didn't show up in the next five minutes that was exactly where he was going. He hadn't seen William in weeks thanks to his need to deal with his problems on his own and the amount of trouble that his unit managed to get into when he was not around. He just about groaned when he realized that his fellow S.T.A.R.S. members had managed to catch sight of him and were heading over, but swallowed it and put up his normal indifferent face. Valentine was okay in small doses and Barry was likeable enough. Frost on the other hand was nearly as bad as Chris when he was in a mood and the more time he spent with him the more he wondered if he would be able to complete his mission without killing one of them.

"Hey, Captain," the woman said with a friendly smile. She looked decent in civilian clothing, "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Someone has to make sure no one does anything that would reflect badly on the department," Wesker commented and he could tell they were having a hard time trying to decide if he was serious or not. He didn't care what they decided-it was an excuse after all and the more enigmatic he was to them the better. Frost opened his mouth, likely to make some kind of cheeky comment, when Chris' voice cut in.

"Hey, guys! Sorry we're late," he said clapping Barry on the shoulder. "Someone had to take _forever_ getting ready." There was a snort and Wesker found the person he was looking for as the circle was made wider to accommodate them. He had the sudden urge to take her by the arm and lead her out of the bar so no one else could look at her. He disliked that fact that his marks had faded. Someone might think she was unclaimed and he didn't want to have to kill someone tonight. Birkin would love another body to conduct research on, but he had just had his car shampooed. Blood was hard to get out of the upholstery. Next time he would have to invest in a leather interior.

"Please," he noticed the way her eyes sought his even with the sunglasses as she spoke. "You're the one who had to drive like a little girl. It was only a few inches of snow." Claire felt him watching her and nerves ran through her body both good and bad. How was she going to get him away from his unit long enough to talk to him? She ran her eyes over the crowd of off-duty cops and, if she hadn't been so worried about what to do about the blonde man, she would've found it funny. They were acting like a bunch of drunken teenagers. Thankfully, she didn't have to think of anything as Jill spotted a karaoke machine being set up and dragged her teammates towards it like a woman on a mission. Claire turned down the offer to join them knowing that her singing voice could break glass, and Jill didn't even bother to extend her invite to her captain. That left her awkwardly standing next to the man she could make neither heads nor tails of. She bit her lips desperately trying to think of someway to break the ice.

"Would you like to go somewhere a little quieter, dear heart?" he asked in that velvet chocolate voice that stroked things low in her body.

"Yes," she agreed because what she wanted to say did not need an audience. She was more than confident that she could handle herself if things got nasty. Her brother had taken a whole summer a few years back and drilled self-defense into her with a single-mindness that was frightening coming from him. Chris was too laid back to be serious most of the time. Wesker grabbed her hand not to lose her in the crowd and had to fight the urge to stiffen when she weaved her fingers between his. He did not do relationships-he did quick fucks, one night stands, ladder climbing. Relationships were dangerous in his world; even if he was going to fake one for as long as it took to get her out of his system. He led her to one of the little side rooms the bar had for private parties-glad to find it unaccompanied. He closed the door behind him and drunk in the sight of her. She was leaning against the hardwood table, her back to it and hands gripping the wood hard enough he had to wonder whether or not she would end up with splinters. Claire looked at him through her bangs as she gathered her courage and wondered how he managed to do that. He looked good in nothing more than a pair of dark slacks, long sleeved grey shirt and black jacket. "Do you own anything that isn't a shade of black?" the question was a result of her nerves and the need to say something to break the silence. The way he was looking at her-like a starving man presented with a feast-was starting to creep her out.

"Is there something wrong with what I am wearing?" Wesker asked raising a single eyebrow and moving further into the private room. He watched as color warmed her cheeks and was amused.

"No, I just…," Claire let out a little sigh of frustration at her sudden lack of ability to express herself around him. There was a twitch in her hands from the urge to touch him-to offer him what he had given her even if she didn't know how. "Look about what happened in your office…" The blonde downed the last of his beer and put the empty bottle on the table. He was not expecting her to bring up what had happened. He was expecting her to be too nervous or start playing hard to get. It was what he was used to dealing with in these kinds of situations in his limited experience.

"What about it?" Wesker asked his voice deepening at the memory she invoked and folding his arms behind his back as she lapsed into silence. Her blue-green eyes were dark and far away as she gathered her courage before turning back to him. An odd thought entered his mind then-one he had not given any credence to before. What if she was trying to tell him she didn't want him? That the office had been a mistake? The very idea had a growl catching in his throat and seeing red even through the black tint of his sunglasses. Claire swallowed her nerves with sheer will and fisted one hand at herself. There was no elegant way to go about this.

"You know I could be pregnant, right?" she was proud at how steady her voice was and now that she had opened her mouth to speak it was easier to keep doing it. "I'm not on the pill." And Wesker was blinking behind his shades, genuinely shocked for the first time in years. Of all the things he had thought she would fixate on this was what she came up with?

"Are you?" he asked doing his best to keep his amusement out of his voice-a small hint of relief was hidden there as well. There was no way she could know, of course. And, frankly, until such a time as it became a fact he was not going to panic over it the way she seemed to be doing. It would be prudent to add the variable in to his plans and perhaps procure a sample of her blood in order to have it tested, however.

"There's no way to know that!" Claire said for the first time feeling angry as he made her look a little foolish. How dare he act like this was nothing! This was her life which he had helped her potentially fuck over. "I could've just fucked my life over royally thanks to you! I know nothing about you except the fact that you have the power to make me go weak in the knees and that you're my brother's boss-neither of which are exactly in your favor." She had moved in her anger so that she was invading his personal space, one finger raised and nearly jabbing him in the chest. Her eyes were narrowed and glittered dangerously. Chris had always claimed she was scarier than anything Hollywood could think up when she was mad and, while she had never rushed off to get a mirror when she was in a rage, she had seen more than one person back down from her anger. But Wesker wasn't backing down. He was, for the second time that evening surprised. He rarely found someone who was not intimidated by his mere presence let alone someone who had the nerve to actually somewhat accost him. He wondered if there was a lock on the door and if the loud music from the bar could cover up those little noises that she made.

"Dear heart," he said as she opened her mouth to continue her angry tirade.

"Don't call me that! I'm not your damned dear heart," Claire was pissed at his pure lack of reaction to both her anger and what she had been trying to tell him. She couldn't see the heat in his eyes because of the sunglasses and had no way to tell that he was reacting in a way she hadn't predicted at all. "I have a name and it's not Miss Redfield, either!" And he was leaning in, sealing her mouth with his lips. She made a single, muffled sound of protest before her eyes closed and her body was remembering where her last kiss from him had led. One of her hands grabbed his jacket so that there was no space between their bodies as the aggression drained out of her and into the kiss. Wesker smirked into the kiss, one hand resting on the small of her back, the other settling at the back of her neck to gently coax her head away.

"Now that I have your attention," he said when he broke the kiss. "Let's address your grievances: one," he held up a single gloved finger so she could see it. "The fact you _might_ be pregnant. There is nothing that can be done about that now, so should it so happen that you are indeed carrying my child," Wesker bit back the dark delight that sparked. If she was carrying his baby she really would be his. No one else would dare to touch her or so much as look at her wrong without feeling his wraith. "We will deal with it then. There is no point to this panic you've worked yourself into. Two," another finger flicked up and her eyes focused on it. "There is a simple way to remedy the fact you claim to know nothing about me. We could interact in a social setting until your curiosity is satisfied. Perhaps dinner?" And Claire felt hear rising to her cheeks. What he said was true and, though the flash in his eyes when he had mentioned the possibility of a kid was downright enough to give her chills, she felt most of the concern she had been dealing with over the past couple of days evaporate. How had he done that? Surely, it wasn't normal? But then a wicked little thought niggled into her brain as the last of his words registered. A little smirked carved onto her lips as she leaned her full body weight against him, molding herself to him.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" her voice was light and teasing in direct contrast to her actions. This close there was no mistaking just how much he had enjoyed the kiss or was enjoying the feeling of her up against him. "Because, you know, that has to be the lamest way I have ever been asked out. One would think you'd never asked a girl out before, Captain." She had no clue where this was coming from, but if the way his grip had tightened on her hip was anything to go by, she wasn't exactly complaining. Wesker felt both his eyebrows climb towards his hairline. This woman was just full of surprises-blushing, panicked almost virgin one minute, unintentional sex kitten the next.

"I hardly make it a habit to ask sisters of my subordinates to socialize," he said softly, head dipping towards hers.

"Mmmmm," Claire's reply was muffled as he slanted his lips over hers. It was like a spark she had been carrying around unaware was fanned into a fire whenever he touched her. It roared through her veins as she opened her mouth for his questing tongue, stroked hotter even as she began to use her own to dance with him, the confirmation that he wanted her as something other than a quick fuck making her bolder. And they would've continued that way if she had not heard it. The most obnoxious song to come out of the entire year and it was being belted out by what sounded like her brother. Wesker let her pull away from the kiss the second he realized her mind wasn't in it. It was insulting, but as his ear registered the noise coming from the bar he understood. "Oh my God," Claire said moving out of his embrace, "Excuse me. I have to go save my brother from himself. Really, I'm a Barbie Girl? He must have lost one hell of a bet." She was halfway out the door before something occurred to Wesker and he caught her wrist.

"Dear heart," was all he had to say before she was giving him that Cheshire grin he was beginning to think meant she was up to something.

"Don't worry. I'm not planning on telling him," he let go of her wrist and she winked. "Last thing I need is for him to end up in jail on murder charges."

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Reviews:

Grissfox: here's the more. Thanks so much for liking it.

Naoko Suki: Glad you liked the lemon. It's been like years since I wrote a het one. Was almost afraid I forgot how...But like my beta says: it's like riding a bike. You never forget. Glad you think I managed to get them both right. Hope I still managed.

Olabelle: Glad you like his human side. The virus will burn it out and I think I'm going to carry it through his realization of just what he is losing. Not sure if I'll have him let it go or not yet. I will say that Leon could end up with a target painted on his back. Wesker has no idea just how deep he is digging himself. -giggle-

Sihayya22: Glad I could make your night better. That makes my morning. Hope my version of the morning after was spot on (it really wasn't the next morning, but, hey, it hit her). Hope this goes towards explaining just what Wesker is going to do. I lol'd when I saw your second review over the mistletoe. It was in season and worked~

Ehehehehehe: Yay! You liked it! -happy dance- I'm so glad my Claire fit yours. Sometimes I worry I'm not capturing the fun in her nature very well. And never worry about the long review! The longer it is the happier I am.

Mirrordjyn: I think he'll be seeing that wink in his dreams often. That and her grin. I'm slowly up-ing his level of crazy. Most people don't go from relatively normal to batshit crazy over night. They creep there. That's why serial killers start with little animals and work their way up. Wesker is working his way up to stalker level. And our lovable Bill-Nye the crazy G-virus guy came back this chapter. I love how very cracked he is...

Project X: Here's the next chapter. There will be more in the works. Hopefully. If Wesker muse ever comes out of the kitchen (he's hiding there from Chris because I have a no virus power rule in the apartment and Chris just found out what his sister and him were doing...)

PharaohsAdvocate: I'm glad you love everything, especially my Wesker. I spent a lot of time working with the characterizations in the game and the books (Perry's Wesker is a little too hot-blooded for me, but is great for getting into how his mind works). Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you did the other two.

littlemonsterteeth: Because I didn't cover it and you asked: Wesker closed his door after the rest of Alpha team left and spent the next two hours reorganizing the papers. He then spent another hour trying to read the reports there before giving up and going home because all he could see was her spread on his desk. And yes, he made Enrico change desks with him.

fany-li: I would love for there to be some Spanish Wesker/Claire out there. If I knew more Spanish or had a Spanish-speaking friend I'd start translating stuff. Everyone should enjoy this goodness! (And I don't think any woman would tell Wesker no).

darklover: Thanks! And I hope it's getting better~

PurgatoryNypmhe: I know. I just can't see the two of them having a normal first meeting. Ever. Glad my humor translated well. And I'm trying to slowly work Wesker into the crazy. It's not a switch you flip, ya know. I hope that you still like Birkin. He's not more observant than Wesker. He's just got a more pessimistic view of reality. He doesn't know how right he is.


	4. Chapter 3

"When you strike at a king, you must kill him."

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

* * *

Three weeks. It had taken him three weeks between his schedules with S.T.A.R.S. and the fact that things seemed to almost be going backwards with the "Tyrant" project to find time to get down to the lab to see William. He had barely managed to keep his farce of a relationship going with Claire. He had convinced her to use a doctor friend of his to get a blood pregnancy test and things had come back clear. They had set up a fixed schedule after that. Once a week he showed up and took her out somewhere to let her ask her laundry list of questions and he got to feed his obsession. The sex was still amazing and she was getting bolder. Not just in the bedroom either. The lies rolled off his tongue like a well-oiled machine. It was all the same stuff anyone could find if they looked in his file. So why did he not like the fact he couldn't share the rest of his world with her? Why did he want to show her the labs, tell her how the things that went bump in the night were real? Why did he pause every time he passed a jeweler's? He had no answer to these questions and that bothered him on a level just as deep as what was going on in his research.

Things had been getting interesting with the fame brought on by his successful navigation of a hostage situation in one of the downtown office buildings. He knew that it was a shell corporation for one of Umbrella's competitors and with the report he had managed to dig up using his contacts he was beginning to think he was not as far from Spencer's grasp as he had thought. The old man had his fingers in everything and there was only one man he could really trust, and he had been leaving messages on his machine every day now. Wesker adjusted his sunglasses as the elevator pinged open on the correct level for his friend's lab. He walked the five feet and punched in the code he had been given when the other man decided that this would be his personal lab. Wesker and William had maintained an open lab policy with the other, recognizing that it was more beneficial for the two of them to share ideas than it was for the two of them to work against one another. The blond was still in his work uniform, the creases coming unpressed from use. He was running on little more than caffeine and will power, a state that was normal for him when his considerable mind went to work on a complex problem, but it seemed the more he worked on this problem the more he appeared to be boxed in. He knew Spencer was using him for something here in Raccoon, that the man had plans for him-most likely some way to get him to come back into White Umbrella's research fold. He couldn't allow it to happen. William had given himself to that man in the way he wanted Wesker to and he had seen his friend's slow decent into mania and near isolation from the outside world.

"William?" Wesker asked as the door recessed into the wall to allow him entry. His nose wrinkled at the smell of stale air. Good lord, how long had William been down here? Surely, not since the first call on New Year's Eve? It was unlike Annette to not be down here with him making sure he was eating and bathing regularly. Or at the very least not in the midst of the disaster herself. There was a reason that she and William fit together so perfectly. The lab was a mess, so unlike the last time he had been down here. A frown creased his features at the sight of piles of computer printouts stacked haphazardly next to used lab equipment-only half of which seemed to be active with something. The techs who would have to come down and clean it would have to wear bio-suits and Wesker was determined to make sure that his friend left long enough for them to do their jobs. What had happened to set Birkin into such a frenzy? Had there been some kind of breach in security? Was that why he had called so urgently? There was a noise to his right and he whirled, fists raised to fend off an attacker.

"Are we enemies now, Albert?" a raspy voice asked and he relaxed his stance. He'd know that voice regardless of how dry and papery it became.

"Good Lord," he used the expression not because he believed in any higher power, but because it was the only way to express his surprise. Wesker firmly believed that the only God in this world was science and he gladly worshipped at that altar taking the power offered. "You look like shit." William, indeed, looked horrible. The rings under his eyes had darkened to the point it looked like he had black eyes, his hair was lank and unwashed, standing up from where he had repeatedly run his hands through it. He smelled like a combination of sanitizer and formaldehyde, which at least meant he was not going to have to report his friend as a potential breach in procedure and contamination risk. Birkin could get so absorbed in his work that procedure often meant little if anything to him, and Wesker always feared that one day such carelessness would lead to a biohazard in a facility.

"Hello to you, too," William said and rubbed his overly dry eyes. When was the last time he had something to drink? Or better yet, when was the last time he had slept? Working on the combination of his virus and the one Spencer had given him with the mounting pressure from corporate to just inject the other man with it already was taking its toll on his already somewhat unbalanced mind. He had all but run Annette out of his lab in order to protect her in the event something happened. The less she knew about his tinkering with Wesker's virus the better. Plausible deniability and all that. "Took you long enough," his hand twitched showing his index and ring finger briefly. Wesker had to fight to keep his eyebrows from rising. It was code, the code they had developed in order to be able to discuss things around other researchers or even Marcus. They hadn't bothered with it since the man had died and they had gone on their separate paths. The signal he gave meant there was someone listening to what they were saying. The fact that the code was back on top of Spencer sticking his fingers back into Wesker's career was unsettling and left him feeling like he had missed something somewhere. Wesker _never_ missed anything. His hands clenched and unclenched briefly-the only sign of his frustration.

"What is this all about anyway?" the blonde man asked even as his hands danced seemingly in a meaningless gesture. _Who?_ They asked.

"I heard things had started to go south with your T research," William offered even as his hands indicated one word: _Umbrella._ Wesker let his frown deepen apparently in response to his friend's words. Umbrella meant Spencer, seeing as the board was little more than a mouthpiece for the old man's desires. It was pathetic how they feared the frail creature of a man. Wesker often thought about just pushing him out the window in his overly ornate mansion, but not even he could mount that kind of assault without repercussions.

"I take it you have some ideas?" he asked tightly. He gave the signal for _why_, a sweeping gesture that seemed to indicate the other man should continue.

"Have you ever heard of the super solider project? It took place during the darkest hours of World War II. Most people don't even realize that the allies had their own section of human research going on, preferring to leave that sort of human tragedy to Nazi Germany. Few bother to realize that eugenics began in the United States," the bright light in William's eyes was not faked. The records Spencer had sent him were eye opening to say the least. Wesker's father had been brilliant and his understanding of the underlying virus that had given birth to both T and now his own G was beyond his time. The man had been limited only in that technology had not caught up with his mind. But he knew that look in his friend's eyes. He needed to know what he had, why Umbrella was monitoring him, and he knew that if he came out with the real reason why Wesker would have nothing to do with it. So, he was going to have to play his friend as only he could.

"But you don't want a lecture," Birkin said indicating Wesker should follow him. "I came across something interesting while going through the Umbrella archives." He gestured to a complex chemical formula that was displayed on the computer screen. Wesker studied it with the intensity of a man looking at a particularly vexing piece of art. It was brilliant. It used the base, the original virus as discovered elsewhere, to modify the human genetic code. It wasn't designed like T to bring back the dead-T's weapon capabilities were an accident in an attempt to discover immortality- nor was it like G which was designed cover the near instant rot problem. G would hopefully make it so that the standard infected would last longer by giving them the ability to heal from their injuries. It looked like it took the basic human strengths and built on them. There was something else though-an extra set of chemical code that made no sense in the make-up. It was almost like it was tacked on last minute and while the bonds were real their purpose eluded him.

"It hasn't been tried, William. It has holes that I can see here and here," Wesker pointed out as he touched the screen. The other man leaned and was surprised that his friend had caught a place he hadn't bothered to look before. That would make things easier with what he hoped to add.

"It's a start. It might help with the problem of G's wild mutation levels," William offered. "But you know what my problems are." He was taking a risk here. If Wesker didn't offer he was going to have to add his modifications and take his chances randomly injecting the man with it hoping he survived the encounter. The blonde frowned as he realized what William was implying. If he found some way to make this virus operational and Umbrella knew about it, which it would if he asked for test subjects, he would end up dead upon completion like Marcus. He needed some way out of Spencer's web. He could take this and the research he had from T to a competitor and he would be untouchable. He trusted that the other man would not give it to him if there was a chance for death or failure, and the idea of the kind of power that would give him… No one would ever be able to back him into a corner like this again. He would be the one doing the backing from now on. He would be able to get his due.

"I'll see if it has any application for T," Wesker said giving the hand sign for agreement. William rubbed his hands together and offered a real smile to his friend. Wesker sat on the single office chair not covered in paperwork and rolled up his sleeve even as Birkin prepped the needle. He would do everything in his power to keep his friend from regretting this. One of them would get out and the joke would be on Spencer.

* * *

Orzwell Spencer glared at the male nurse as he went about getting his bath ready. This was beyond degrading to someone of his stature. He was _Lord_ Orzwell Spencer, cousin to the Queen of England, multi-billionaire, most feared man in the pharmaceutical industry. But his body was failing him as it had since the day he was born. His problem was not a disease, but an ailment that all mankind fell prey to: old age. His looks had been the first to go, followed by his strength. Thankfully, his mind had managed to remain intact, though it would hardly do him any good if the boy would not complete his purpose. When he had been approached by Alexander and Marcus all those years ago about some flower in Africa it had been with the promise that this would never happen to him. He would never grow old. He would become immortal and along with his power and influence a God. The two scientists had professed only a desire to further society with their research. But then Alexander Wesker had screwed him over-taking off as soon as he figured out the cure. Sure, the man had faked his death and Albert's mother had bought it hook, line, and sinker. The only comfort Spencer had was the fact that he had gotten to Albert first.

Spencer's eyes flashed in the bathroom lighting as the male nurse started to help him with his clothes. He had not believed the reports about Alexander's death and had taken the few remaining members of his team-the rest had died in the fire that killed the researcher and destroyed almost all the work on the virus-and hidden them deep in the bowels of white Umbrella demanding that they reconstruct it. None of them were close to the genius Alexander or his son was, and it had taken them close to twenty-five years to get it right. Or at least they thought it was. They claimed that it would likely taken a series of injections over time to work like what Alexander had been doing with the Wesker Children. Spencer was not a fool, and was not going start injecting himself with the virus until he knew for certain it worked-which was where Albert came into play. He had kept the man away from his father's research, though he had made him carry out the lesson he had learned from his father in the killing of Marcus before he could take off with his research, but he was the only living Wesker Child left. The others had met with various ends-most of them bloody and violent. That meant that the only viable test subject was a man who had recently started to distrust him to the point he had actually taken himself out of the active research department and transferred himself to Umbrella's secret operations branch. But Spencer was not a man without resources. A little pressure on the right party and he knew it was a matter of time before they had all the research they needed in order to start him with the injections. Then they would dispose of Albert. There was only room from one god in the world, after all.

* * *

It was late. The halls of the Raccoon City police department were almost silent despite the department running twenty-four/seven. S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team had long since gone home and the Bravos were in full swing across the way, but Wesker was still in his office pouring over the new case requests. He didn't like the publicity that his department was getting. Not because he didn't like the limelight-he actually enjoyed being the center of the attention-, but because the media had started to dig into the backgrounds of his members and himself. He knew the forger who had created his mostly fake identity was one of the best in the business and that it should hold up, but he would rather not have to test the man's skills. To top the list of bad things resulting from doing a good job he was now getting requests from other departments to look into their cases. There was no doubt in his mind that Irons was doing this just to piss him off. He put the request to aid in an undercover prostitution sting into the pile of maybe. Truly, the only reason it was going in there was because it was a male prostitution ring and the idea of Chris running being forced to go undercover was just too amusing.

Of course, the thought of one Redfield led to thoughts of the other one. He knew she was starting to work under his skin and it bothered him at the same time it intrigued him. Many woman had tried to be able to do what she did with nothing more than an honest question-get him to answer with more truth than lies. As a matter of fact, he rarely lied to her at all now. She asked and he answered as well as he could without giving her enough information to put her in danger. He knew that if they were watching Birkin, they were watching him which put her in enough danger already. So then, why did he often find himself having to force himself not to tell her? A small thought pushed itself forward and he paused to examine it. Maybe there was an affection starting to take hold along with the obsession? Perhaps it was no longer just about his need to own her, but also about having her willing to be possessed by him? Mayhap there was a small part of him that wanted her to still want him even after she knew all the dark twisted places in his soul? The idea was absurd. And yet…Wesker sighed and put his sunglasses on his desk so he could rub his eyes. It seemed the hours he was keeping were finally getting to him if he was even giving that thought credibility.

The phone on his desk rang and he raised an eyebrow. He technically wasn't supposed to be there so who was calling him? He contemplated blowing it off for a minute before his need for a distraction from his former thoughts took over. He raised the cradle to his ear as he rose to shut the office door. There was always a chance that this was Umbrella related.

"Wesker," the blond responded as he sat in his chair.

"Albert," William's voice came through the slight static of the phone. He sounded almost breathless with excitement. Wesker's hands moved under his desk as he sought the poorly hidden tapping device some dumbass from Umbrella had put in. He had left it rather than risk them going for something he would have a harder time shutting off when he needed to. "I was just calling to give you an update."

"Where are you?" Wesker asked hoping that in the joy of whatever discovery William had made he had enough sense not to use the phone in his house or the lab.

"A truck stop somewhere north of the city. They have the most amazing buffet and Annette likes to go whenever we have time. Plus it's the only place open at one in the morning that will let us in without having to go home to change first," Birkin explained as the loud sound of truck horn was heard in the background. The blond decided that his friend and his wife were very odd people indeed, but he was glad nonetheless that he was being called from a payphone. "I think I've perfected it." Wesker felt excitement and a deep sense of satisfaction. They were well into February, so it had only taken the other man a little over a month of trial and error to fix the problems with the new virus. They were tentatively calling it the Wesker Virus.

"How soon can we start the injections?" he asked already seeing himself free from Spencer. Perhaps, the thought snuck into his head like smoke, he would even take Claire with him. She was his now and he would not tolerate anyone else touching her. If he agreed to it, though, he would have to incorporate her into his planning. But the idea of leaving her when he left Umbrella, of not seeing her again, was enough to make him see red. There was nervous laughter on the other end of the phone that had him narrowing his eyes. "What is it, William?"

"There's a glitch," he said and Wesker closed his eyes. "It's tiny and not something that I felt really needed to be changed, but you should know about it before hand…" The other man trailed off and sighed, knowing that Wesker would just wait for him to get to the point. "You die shortly after the initial injection. The down time is only roughly fifteen minutes, but…" That was it? He would die only to be resurrected fifteen minutes later in full capacity? That was actually something that he could use, he decided as his mind whirled away with possibilities. If he died he wouldn't have to worry about Spencer chasing after him. He would have to make sure that the death was believable, though…

"Actually, William, that can be quite the plus…"

* * *

Claire looked out the dark tinted windows at the muted lights of the city all around her. Wesker was taking her out to dinner, and, due to the fact neither wanted to be caught and interrogated by neighbors and friends, they had decided to use New York City as the place for their rendezvous. Not that Claire minded the journey-she loved the city and had since she was a little kid and her parents first took her there. No, what was making her mind itch was the fact that she was having trouble keeping her mouth shut. Ever since the death of her parents Claire and Chris had been very close. Hell, Chris had been there to panic the first time she had gotten her period. A faint smile lit her lips as she pictured him talking to the older lady at the drugstore about what to buy her. He had been so red when he had gotten home. The smile melted into a frown as she thought about what she was currently keeping from him. If she had ended up pregnant she would've told him regardless of what Wesker wanted, but now that she wasn't she was starting to feel guilty about the sneaking around. Keeping their relationship from Wesker's work made sense; she knew that he would be labeled a pervert at minimum and could lose his job at the worst, and she didn't want that to happen. But not telling Chris? What would happen if things progressed to the point where they were going to get married? Was she just supposed to drop this on Chris's lap along with the name of a tux rental place?

"Dear heart," Wesker voice cut through her thoughts like a knife as she turned to find him looking at her. He didn't wear the sunglasses when they were alone, having admitted when she asked about them that he wore them to intimidate and keep others from knowing what he was thinking. She had responded that he didn't need to do such a thing with her. Asking was enough to get her to do most things, and she liked looking at his eyes. They were never warm, not like hers and Chris's. Mostly, they were blank like pieces of Aquamarine, but, sometimes, she would say or do something and something else would flash in his eyes. It reminded her of the look you saw sometimes in the desperately hungry-hungry was the only word she could think of to describe the look at all. Albert Wesker was hungry for something and she was feeding it. She could only hope that what she was feeding would not bite the hand that fed it. "You're awfully quiet this evening."

"Just thinking," Claire offered softly as traffic continued to crawl. She didn't understand his need to drive them everywhere in the city. Public transportation was safe and it was sure a hell of a lot faster. "You know the subway would faster than this? Hell, walking would be faster than this." She frowned as another thought that had been brewing in the back of her mind came to the surface. "I don't know how you afford this car anyway. Chris barely makes rent most months and Captain's salary isn't too terribly much more than what he's making currently." She had gone back to staring at the people out and about missing the quick frown he gave her. Wesker had known that he could afford the black luxury vehicle on his cover's salary, but he thought no one would really notice. He had just ignored the speculation at work and it had rapidly disappeared. What was he going to tell her? A lie sat on the tip of his tongue, but failed to make itself known as this new need to tell her at least part of the truth short-circuited his sense of self-preservation. That and the more he had thought things over as far as fitting her into his plans the more he realized she was going to have to know something.

"I have a second job," that got her attention as she whipped her head around, the two pieces of her hair left loose from the knot she had pulled it back in bouncing as she did so. She had learned quickly that when Wesker went out he went _all _out. She had started looking up five star restaurants in self-defense. She'd only be caught once unable to read the menu or in jeans when the dress code required, well, a dress. "I hire out as a security consultant for a major corporation. It pays better." All of which was fact if you stretched the definition of security consultant to include the body in the trunk she didn't know about. He actually had been called into the city to take care of a reporter who had gotten a little too interested in Umbrella's different departments. The good news was that they paid for the hotel room for the entire weekend, and, while Umbrella was many things, stingy wasn't one of them. He watched her do the slow blink that let him know she was processing the information as he moved the car forward.

"Is that the reason you chose New York?" Claire asked as some things clicked into place. "You can tell Chief Irons that you're doing work up here. You're actually probably doing work up here before I got here." Wesker nodded his head once. "Is it dangerous?" she asked as she pictured him fighting people as they came to steal the company secrets. She knew her imagination was running away with her, but she was still concerned for him. What if it did end up like an episode of Charlie's Angels or Mission Impossible? The blond let a smile tug at the corner of his lips. She was concerned for him. The black beast in his chest roared its pleasure at her statement even as he mocked it.

"No more so than my day one," he said in a tone that suggested she was a little daft. Claire glared at him and had the sudden urge to stick her tongue out at the infuriating man. As it was she sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Fine," her tone was petulant, but she didn't care, "teach me to show some concern about your safety." Claire turned back to the window as traffic continued its slow crawl and they actually made it to the stoplight. "So," she dug around in her head for another topic, "you got any brothers or sisters? You know I have Chris and my parents died in a car crash years ago."

"No," Wesker said so matter-of-factly that she raised an eyebrow. "I was an only child, and, before you ask, both my parents are dead. My mother committed suicide shortly after my father died in a laboratory fire. He was a geneticist." Claire felt her hand go to her mouth in horror as she looked at him.

"That's…that's just…," she couldn't express her grief at this information. She knew how hard it had been for her when her parents died, but to have one die and the other one kill herself… The idea was not one that sat well with her. She personally thought that such a thing was far from romantic and just plain cowardly on his mother's part, but was not going to say anything to Wesker. It did explain things a little bit, though: his lack of ability to express his affection other than answering her questions when she asked and in the bedroom. She wondered how old he had been when it had happened, but didn't know how to ask.

"It was a very long time ago, dear heart," he didn't look at her as he said it. They were finally coming up to the parking valet where they would leave the car while they ate. "I've long since made peace with it." If making peace included burning the mansion he had grown up in to the ground and joining one of the most ruthless companies in the world. He knew a psychologist would tell him that his becoming a scientist was his mind's twisted way of seeking approval from his dead father and that his inability to trust others was from his mother abandoning and betraying him with her suicide. Personally, he thought a lot of the psycho-babble was a bunch of bullshit. He'd use it to get what he wanted from others, but it had no bearing on him. Or rather, he didn't care why he was the way he was-he didn't want to change.

"Alright," Claire said not really believing him, but not wanting to push the issue as the valet opened the door for her.

* * *

Reviews:

Spark of Insanity: They can be cute together, though Wesker protests the usage of such a word. Lol. I think it's going to be quite the surprise for poor Chris… I'm thinking he might have a heart attack.

Grissrox: Hope ya'll had an awesome game! I hope this chapter was worth the wait too!

Olabelle: Hope this chapter was just as good considering it end up like nothing but background on Wesker…

PharohsAdvocate: I'm glad you like the inner conflicts. I think this entire thing is ending up a study in their characters.

PurgatoryNymphe: I'd love to have art of some kind for anything. My stick figures don't look like stick figures… Don't worry, Claire is going to meet Birkin before he turns into Gvirus!Birkin. 'Course she isn't going to know _who_ he is. And Claire is definitely going to play into Wesker's madness once he goes all viral. Let's just say there's a reason Leon never met Wesker but always seemed to find evidence of him…

Darklover: Will Wesker have human desires? Define human…I also like human!wesker. Claire is setting herself up for a major breakdown when she figures everything out.

Compra16: Yay! Five stars! I like explaining the how and the why that they end up doing the things they do. Capcom's explanation for Wesker doing everything was a combination of he is batshit crazy and Spencer manipulated him into it. If Wesker is as good at reading and using people as I believe he is there is no way that would suffice.

Castlelady467: Thanks! And I did update, not fall off the side of a cliff or bury myself in the snow…

Naoko Suki: I have this need to be very realistic when it comes to certain things, and Claire has always seemed like she had a good head on her. I've also never voted her to be one for the pity party either. She always seemed more ready to take the bull by the horns than to wait for someone to rescue her. And Wesker is not interested in someone he would constantly have to save. Especially, once Spencer gets wind of what is going on with Claire. He's a right arsehole as the English would say.

Dragonwindblade: Everyone really seems to heart my Wesker. I makes me happy…

Ehehehehehe: You make made me happy! And I'm glad you like the bit about Wesker and his dead bodies. Oh, the stories his car could tell… This has to be the slowest drag to get into RE:0 ever… Or at least it feels that way.

Project X: Wesker seems to almost live in my kitchen… I think it's because the fridge is in there and he must keep his samples cool. Sorry this took forever to update. I blame the new job, midterms, Spencer being an ass, and the fact that it snowed. I hibernate under about 36 degrees…

Applepearcake134: I'm happy you like my writing style and here is more.

Kimey: And I only managed to answer one of your questions this chapter. You won't believe how proud I was of myself for being able to read what you wrote without a translator!

Littlemonsterteeth: I realized later that I had goofed the timeline for this up (it was supposed to be 1996), but am going with it anyway. I just thought up the most obnoxious song from that year and went with it. Chris seems like a nineties rock man and Jill seems pop-y so it makes sense she would force him to sing it. ^^

Phoenixkid: Everyone is so anticipating Chris's reaction I'm hoping not to disappoint. I will say that it is a looooong way off. I'm thinking about trying to see if they can keep it up until Rockfort….

Magiccat647: Chris is the typical older brother given a gun and a badge…

Yukiko834: I'm glad you found it too! Here's what happens next!

Tayzie-Lee: More granted~

Lovergirl1: There will likely be more lemons as they move the plot along… And, have no fear, Wesker will not abandon Claire once he gets the virus…


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