I am currently fixing the dates on the prequels to this so that Resistance starts 6 years after Raccoon City, meaning that this new story is going into the 7th year, where Claire gets involved with Terrasave. I hope that clears things up. Nothing else changed from the first three installments. This picks up right where they left off. I hope that you all enjoy this new update. It will fill in the gap between Claire's infection/time with Wesker and Africa.

ENJOY! And, as always, R&R

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Chapter 1: Stuck in My Head

It was mid-July and damn hot even for a summer's night. The stifling weather wrapped humid fingers around the city, suffocating it, and the light drizzle that had just begun did nothing to help. The misty air coated the world in a slippery sheen played on by red and green lights over the mostly deserted streets. Other apartments were blasting air conditioners while the occupants slumbered uncomfortably on sticky sheets, but apartment one-sixteen, Rosewood Place, was different. The lights were on, and the windows were thrown wide open, allowing the sound of rain to drift into the small living quarters where a young woman busily typed.

She was reading online news about a pharmaceutical company named WilPharma. The name had caught her eye some time ago, but she was indecisive as to how to handle her misgivings. Sure, she wanted to involve herself in saving lives, but under what affiliation was causing her consternation. There were numerous groups fighting against bioweapons and human testing, whether humanitarian organizations or government offices, and each had pros and cons. An action-orientated job would have been ideal, but the risk of exposing her abnormal abilities kept that option warily distant. One slip of control in combat and she'd be on the auction block.

A textbox suddenly popped up on the computer screen: What r u doing up so late?

Claire Redfield smiled pleasantly and checked the time. It was only one am, and she was anything but tired. She sat in shorts and a tank top with one foot folded against her chest on the chair. A half-eaten bowl of kimchi-flavored noodles sat beside the computer, and she picked at the leftovers with a fork. Leave it to Chris to be patrolling her personal habits.

"I'm not tired," she said aloud as she typed.

Virus grl. Claire laughed and was ever grateful that such a thing was possible concerning her condition.

"Keep it up. I'll kick your ass." Chris sent her a winking smiley face in response, and Claire thanked god for technology. Instant Messenger had been a real blessing since Chris had departed to train for his new job. Claire was sure that he would be amazing, for the passion and skill to fight terror had been imbedded in him since Raccoon City. She really missed his strong presence now that he was gone, but his work was more important than her.

Did u get Clyde's info on the job? Claire snorted and took a bite of noodles. Yes, she had, and the answer was still no. She wasn't interested in joining BSAA like Chris, and she was nervous about him having mentioned her to his friend, even if it was on an informal basis. Sometimes she wondered if Chris's appeals didn't stem from his desire to keep a closer eye on her wellbeing. After all, he knew that she'd get back in the game sooner than later.

"I'm not interested in the job," she said for the third time this month.

He doesn't know anything about you.

"Too risky." Claire had not told Chris about her infiltration of a government research facility, but she had mentioned fears concerning her secret's discovery. She'd sworn Chris to silence, and he'd complied but insisted that she'd find a way to keep it hidden. After all, she looked the same to him, and she was very good at keeping her abilities under wraps. Yeah, Claire thought, but he hasn't seen my eyes change when I get emotional. Plus, if the government ever did discover who she was and what she had done, it would result in disaster for Chris as well as her. To have his own sister a governmental target—that was stress that he didn't need, and Claire knew that the explanation as to why she had killed military employees would not be acceptable. A lack of details was the only reason that Chris had forgiven her for finding Wesker in the first place.

U don't trust US govt.

"No." Claire had been trying to tell Chris about her misgivings concerning the government for months, but to no avail. How the hell was she going to tell him that they experimented on people like Umbrella did when her evidence dealt with attacking a laboratory alongside Wesker? She tried to think of an indirect way to get her point across. "Leon says they want samples for themselves. Maybe it's bad news."

Maybe. No choice here. Claire knew exactly what he meant. He, like her, was just trying to lend a hand where he could. For him the government offered a chance to do what his moral obligations and heart expected him to. Claire couldn't blame him for that anymore than her decision to care about Wesker. Things weren't black and white and never would be again. The best that they could do was stick with the side that they felt was the lesser of two evils.

Look at NGOs. Maybe Terrasave.

"What?"

Heard it mentioned here. Claire opened a new internet tab and typed in the name. She wasn't going to sleep tonight so she might as well look it up now.

Sis. Sleep.

"Can't."

Nightmares again? What about? Claire grimaced. She couldn't tell him what they involved; he wouldn't understand.

"Don't worry. How's life?"

Hell. They're tough on us. Claire grinned and ate her remaining noodles. Sleep. She rolled her eyes.

"Work to do."

Bullshit. I'd call, but you need to get a new cell phone. Claire sighed. Yes, she needed to do that. The last one had never been returned after she gave it away. Chris assumed that she'd simply lost it. Oh well. Ok. Promise to sleep soon.

"Fine. Night."

Bye.

"Brothers," Claire joked to herself and returned to her internet search. Terrasave, huh? It looked promising, and it might be her niche. She'd look into it more later. For now she was waiting for a reply from Rebecca concerning certain files that she wished to obtain. She looked at the corner of the computer screen: one, ten am. Okay, so it wasn't likely that she'd get a reply until late morning, and maybe not at all. It had been five days since she'd sent the e-mail, and there was nothing to do but wait. That left the question of sleeping or finding something else to amuse herself.

Claire frowned and mindlessly walked into the kitchen to throw away her noodle bowl. She hadn't slept in almost a week, so it was no surprise that Chris was concerned, and she knew that she needed to rest if only to clear her mind. Claire meandered into the bathroom and began preparing a bath. She reached for the bubble bath and squeezed it into the running water. Her neighbors probably thought that she was a complete insomniac.

It wasn't her choice though. She would have gladly kept a normal sleeping routine like anyone else, but she periodically suffered from intense nightmares, and lately they had been reoccurring with increasing frequency. They weren't of Raccoon City either, as Chris had suggested in one of their conversations. No, she had lost those nightmares after spending months with Wesker. These were different, and far more troubling than Raccoon City had ever been.

Claire suddenly realized that she had emptied the entire bottle of bubble bath into the tub and was now facing a colossal mountain of foam. Oops. She tossed the bottle aside, undressed, and slipped into the water. Only her head stuck above the surface, but the normally soothing suds weren't hitting the spot tonight. She might not have been sleeping but the nightmares were still on her mind. She recalled the first time that she had experienced the dream…

The key was cold in her hand as she turned it in the lock, and the wind swept loudly through the forest to tug at her black attire. On the threshold of this place, she was unsure of everything, but her hand reached out. She pushed the door open and stepped inside to find that someone had left the lights on upstairs. Her heart raced, thinking that he was here, and her feet briskly moved up the steps and toward the bedroom. She hadn't seen him in so long, and the place was filled with his tantalizing scent.

She was in the bedroom, and Wesker stood at the window, arms folded behind his back in thought. Claire slowly strode forward, unsure of his mood, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Wesker?" He made no response. He wouldn't even look at her, but Claire was desperate that he should do so. "Wesker…? Please. I'm here." He finally turned toward her and Claire saw that he was upset about something. He refrained from speaking and just stared at her with burning orbs that made Claire want to shrink into the ground. He lifted a hand to her face and ran his fingers gently over the skin, but the movement was mechanical rather than warm. He seemed unsure of something, and Claire tried to settle whatever it was by leaning into his touch.

"Claire, get away from him!" Claire's attention shot to the door, where Chris was standing with a gun aimed at Wesker. She immediately moved to stand between them, but Wesker roughly shoved her aside and drew his own gun. Her heart pumped heavily and she watched in panic as Chris shot Wesker, the bullet jerking his chest backward. Instead of healing, Wesker lay on the floor, bleeding onto the carpet. Claire reached for him in slow motion, running her hands over his face and crying.

"Claire, what are you doing?" Chris demanded. She couldn't answer. She just cried. "If he lives, he'll kill me." She couldn't help it. She held onto Wesker and told him that he'd be okay. "Fine, Claire. You've chosen your side," Chris angrily spat and left. Claire was left watching the man that she loved die while Chris scornfully abandoned her. Wesker's eyes continued to burn angrily and his lips barely opened.

"Claire…"

She sat in the bathtub and tried to make sense of the dream. It didn't always happen like that. Sometimes Wesker shot Chris, and then she was left holding her dying brother while Wesker told her to make a decision, much like Chris had done; however, some matters remained constant; the dream always ended with one of them calling her name, and she could never save both. She'd wake up drenched in sweat, mentally tormented, and with raging amber eyes. She had never experienced such conflict or dread in a dream—never. Some nights she thought to alter the outcome, and she'd try to warn Wesker to leave ahead of time or send Chris back before he was killed, but it never worked. She jumped out of the bathtub in frustration and let the water drain. Sometimes she woke up crying.

"Damn, stupid dream," Claire complained under her breath as she returned to the living room. Maybe she could go for a walk. It wasn't like she was worried about being mugged or anything. The thought actually rather amused her—like thinking of someone trying to steal Wesker's wallet. Now there was a hilarious image, but the humor quickly died as she felt a pang of sadness. Life had moved on and her with it, but that didn't mean that she felt less conflicted about the choices still open to her. One day she would meet Wesker again, and there would need to be a final decision whether she was ready for it or not. For now she had chosen, but it was partially a postponement of bringing herself into direct conflict with him. If she was as effective in fighting bioweapons as she aimed to be, conflict with his goals was inevitable. She had no idea under what conditions they would meet again, but she knew that she wouldn't be allowed to interfere without risking her life.

She flopped back down at the computer and began mindlessly surfing the web. She searched for nightmares on Google, but the links were lacking in substance. Try drinking chamomile tea, one suggested. More like an entire bottle of sleeping pills, Claire darkly thought.

She slid onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. She was feeling alone again, and that was all the more reason for doing something with herself. She wouldn't let herself waste away, and it was high time that she got herself back on the battlefield. That meant making a job decision soon. It would put her in contact with new people, possibly friends, and rekindle her purpose to stop biohazards. It was exactly what she needed.

Right, she decided and prepared to send a query to Terrasave. As she leaned forward to reach for the computer, a necklace dangled from her neck, grazing the desk's surface. Claire gently ran a finger over the key on the chain before tucking it back inside of her shirt. She wanted to go to the house, but she had her doubts. The bliss that she'd experienced from Wesker's offer had faded, even if it still warmed her considerably. The problem was what would happen if she did go. If he was there, would he take her presence as a signal of her decision to join him, and what if she fumbled over explaining her desertion? And if he wouldn't be there…? Then she'd be disappointed. Either way, going would probably make her want to stay with him, and that was dangerous for countless lives and her brother's sanity.

She checked the time: three am. It was time to resort to the last measure of entertainment. She strapped on her boots and shut the apartment door behind her as she descended to the streets. She'd see what she could find, and she had her trusty sunglasses tucked into her pocket just in case something triggered a reaction. The light rain dampened her clothing as she walked, a lone figure on a dreary street. The neighbors probably did think that she was an oddball.