Chapter 1: Phantasm

"Dammit, Claire. Where are you?" Chris thought, panicked. He doubled over panting. It felt like he had been running through these halls forever. They all began to look the same after a while. Chris tried to straighten up, but his side cramped again. He bent over, clutching it. "No time to sit and rest, I have to find her!" Ignoring the pain, he took off running down the hall again. His feet thunked loudly on the metal floor and echoed down the ghostly tunnel.

They were suppose to be finished with this type of thing. Weeding out Umbrella labs were a thing of the past. Then Rebecca had found something. She said that it was important, and that the S.T.A.R.S had to intervene. For the life of him, Chris couldn't remember what it was. His entire mind was hazy. He couldn't remember where they were or why they were there. The only thing he did know was that they had arrived at yet another secret lab, and walked right into a trap. Unmarked soldiers had ambushed them, and now Chris and his friends were separated. Chris's radio had been shot to pieces during a gun fight, and he had no other way of contacting them. His headset was nestled around his neck. He hadn't had the time to take it off.

He and Claire had been separated when a grenade rolled into a doorway they were sitting in. Each of them dove in opposite ways, and the door had collapsed, sealing them from each other. Chris, Jill, Barry, and Rebecca managed to fight their way out, but after they had dispatched the soldiers and retreated, Chris found himself alone. He had no idea where the three of them went. They simply vanished.

There was no time to think about that, though. Chris knew that they could take care of themselves. He continued to run down the endless stretch of hallway with his gun clasped in his hand. His Glock was down to about half a clip. He had to find his sister and escape from this place, before any more soldiers, or worse, showed up. He just prayed that Barry, Jill, and Rebecca would manage to escape as well. He turned the corner and bashed open a door. There was yet another endless looking hallway waiting for him.

As he ran down the new hall, a side door burst open , and two soldiers swept out. They took aim at Chris with their submachine guns and fired. Chris ducked an slid along the ground, firing his pistol. He killed one, then the other as he skidded on his stomach along the stone floor. Scrambling to his feet, he snatched one of the automatic guns from their corpses and dropped his empty handgun, then continued his sprint. He burst through another door.

He had found Claire. She was accompanied by a dozen fully armed men crowded around her in an irregular semicircle. Chris raised the gun to his shoulder and looked down the sights. There was a click of metal and safety's as the soldiers did the same thing, locking onto Chris. Outnumbered and outgunned, Chris swept his gun across the mob, constantly switching targets. He couldn't watch them all at the same time.

"Crap..." he thought. He sneaked a peek at Claire. She was kneeling in the center of the room, in between Chris and the guards. If they started shooting, she would be in between the bullets path. Chris could clearly see that she was trembling violently, and tears were streaming down her face. "Why is she so afraid? She's tougher than that." Chris felt a growing sense of dread in his stomach. Something was wrong. "Don't worry, Claire," he said to her, not taking his eyes off of the soldiers. "We'll get out of this." Claire only responded with a whimper.

The mass of soldiers parted, and Chris instantly trained his sights on the man passing through. It was Albert Wesker. He boldly strode forward until he was even with Claire. Oddly enough, he wasn't wearing his usual sunglasses. The red, glowing eyes that Chris both hated and feared were boring into his skull. Dressed in black combat fatigues, Wesker took on the appearance of a shadow. Chris broke out into a sweat. This was bad. Wesker folded his arms casually across his black tactical vest.

"Once again, you fall right into my hands, Chris," he said. Chris lined up Wesker's head in the gun's sights. How he wished to pull the trigger, and squeeze a round right between his eyes. He would have his revenge, although it would cost him his life. But there was no way he could do it if Claire was still breathing. She was the only thing that kept him fighting these days. While she was alive, Chris vowed to protect her.

"Wesker, you fuck, let her go." Chris growled. Wesker seemed fairly unimpressed with Chris's request and the way he delivered it.

"It seems we go through this every time we meet," drolled Wesker. "I let your sister go, we exchange blows, and I usually end up leaving empty handed. It's very boring for me. That's why I've decided that we end this right now."

"What are you talking about?"

"Isn't it obvious Chris? You are not going to leave here alive. My men have already contacted me. The rest of your friends are dead. It's just you and me now."

"Bullshit!"

"Believe what you want, it won't matter in the end. But don't worry," he added, drawing his sidearm. "I know how much you need to be with your sister. Rest assured, she'll be waiting for you."

With that, he trained his gun on Claire and fired. The shot hit Claire in the chest, directly over her heart. She rocked back on her knees, and her legs kicked out from under her as she fell. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she hit the ground. Her head turned, and her beautiful blue eyes stared glossily at Chris before they closed.

Chris screamed and reached towards her. He heard gunfire, but his thoughts were only trained on his sister's motionless body. He dropped the gun he was carrying and began to run to Claire. As he leaped for her, the room dissolved, and went black.

Chris found himself sitting upright in bed, with his arm stretched out into the darkness, trembling. His entire body was soaked in cold sweat.

"Not again," he thought, putting his hand to his mouth as his stomach wrenched. He fell out of bed and stumbled into his bathroom, finding the toilet in the dark. He retched and vomited violently as the vision of his dream stayed imprinted in his mind. He spat into the toilet, and flushed his body's reject down. He stayed, kneeling in front of it in case another wave of nausea hit him. Nothing came, so he got up shakily and turned on the light.

Chris winced as the light blinded him. Covering his eyes, he peeked through his fingers until his eyes had sipped enough light. He caught sight of himself in the mirror. He was a total wreck. Pale and sweating, he tried to mop himself dry with a towel. After he rinsed his mouth, he ran a hand through his damp hair and leaned over the sink, staring at the pattern on his sweat pants.

"Looks like another sleepless night," he thought. His nightmare was a recurring one. They had happened on and off since the mansion incident. Always, his friends were involved in his dreams. When he discovered that Claire had gotten involved in Raccoon City, the dreams began to almost always contain her. Now they were increasing exponentially, both in horror and frequency. He was beginning to lose count of how many times he was unable to save her. There were some similarities, but no two dreams were ever alike. This latest one with his mortal nemesis had been particularly horrible.

Chris shut the light off in his bathroom and sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples. He heard a soft knock at his door.

"Chris, are you okay?" floated Claire's muffled voice through the door.

"Ugh, I woke her up," Chris thought, pissed at himself. He really didn't want to talk about it now, and especially not to her.

"I'm fine, Claire. Go back to bed," he called. Despite what he said, Claire opened the door a crack and slipped in the room. She was barefoot, wearing cotton pajama pants and a tank top. Her long brown hair was loose, a rare sight. They both looked at each other awkwardly in the darkness.

"Chris, I'm not stupid," Claire said from the doorway. "I heard you puke. Now what is it?" She folded her arms across her chest, waiting for his answer. Chris ran his hand through his hair again.

"I felt sick," he said, half lying. "It must have been something I ate tonight, but I feel fine now." He looked at her toes as he spoke. He couldn't lie to her face, and Claire knew that. Claire sighed and raised the stakes.

"I also heard you talking in your sleep," she added, "and it didn't sound too good." She strode across the hardwood floor and sat down next to him on the bed, her hands folded in her lap. "Come on, Chris, what is it?"

"It's nothing, Claire," he said, still avoiding he eyes. He could barely stand to look at them after what he had dreamed about. "Really, I'm fine." Claire pursed her lips. She still had one last ace up her sleeve.

"This isn't the fist time, Chris. I've heard you a couple other nights. It sounded the same as tonight."

Chris sighed and gave up. He told her everything: what he had seen, and when the dreams started. Everything he said was spoken directly to her face. Claire stared right back, never batting an eye at the horrible things he told her about. When he finished, she wrapped her arms around him and placed her head on his shoulder.

"Well, they're just dreams," she said. "With everything you've gone through, I'm not surprised. I am a little surprised, however, that you didn't want to talk about them. I know that you're more mature than that."

"Maybe who I am is just a face," Chris said absentmindedly, resting his head against hers. "The fact that I was S.T.A.R.S's point man, and that I led my friends in a fight against an evil corporation. Maybe I'm just a scared kid, and I'm afraid of screwing up and being unable to protect you someday."

"I don't believe that," Claire said. "I know that you keep your promises. You said you would never leave me or let anything happen to me, so I know for a fact that you'll always come through."

"Thanks Claire," he said. What she said always made him feel better. Claire shifted on the bed, and placed her back against the headboard. She pulled Chris's head down into her lap, and began to stroke his hair. Despite his earlier thinking, Chris began to feel very tired. It comforted him greatly that his sister was with him, safe and sound. "Hey, you should get back to bed," he said.

"No. I'll stay here for a while," Claire said. "Just relax." Chris stretched out on his bed, his head still on Claire's lap. He closed his eyes, Claire's darkened face the last thing he saw, and soon was fast asleep.

Claire continued to stroke his head. She felt bad that Chris had to go through all of this. He had just been in the wrong place, then used and betrayed. Now, he had taken it upon himself to finish what was started. She wished that she could make it easier for him, but right now, it sounded like she was making things worse. All she could do was continue to fight with him, and get stronger. That way, Chris wouldn't have to fight so hard to protect her.

She tipped her head back against the wall. A wave of fatigue had suddenly passed her. She herself hadn't been sleeping well at night. Although she wasn't plagued with nightmares, Claire had other reasons for being awake. She guessed it was a trait of the Redfield family to worry about their siblings. Claire worried about Chris as much as he did about her, although she didn't outwardly express it. Even Chris didn't know.

She closed her eyes and slowly nodded off.