Summary: Chris finally makes it to Rockfort Island in search of his sister, to see that she isn't the only thing on his long list of things to do.

A/N; I don't own anything, nuffin' at all. Everything is Capcom's. And I hope you enjoy reading this, it has been some time since I wrote something other than school work, so I hope this isn't to eye wrenching ^^;. Oh and please tell Review I'd love ta' see what I need ta' fix and work on.

Smile.

Chris swift jumped out of the jet, landing roughly as he surveyed the area, unsure of what was lurking in the shadows. It was something he had come accustom to doing now, and in his mind, it was annoying. He constantly found himself looking far into things; like people, his surroundings. Ever since the accident in Raccoon City he hadn't been the same.

Everyone around him could see the newly found paranoia, and constant on edge look he'd give. He was always ready; thinking of what could go wrong, every and anything that could go wrong. And in his mind, this was becoming his new personality.

The brunette quickly pulled his Beretta from its holster, reading it for anything or anyone that was going to get in his way.

So far so good…

The man thought to himself, pushing his way through the large steel doors, his adrenalin spiking as he slowly made his way into the freezing corridor. It was clear from the start why it was so much colder in the small hallway. A large whole fallowed by a carrier plane decorated the wall, as if it wasn't out of the ordinary.

Then Claire must be here… she must be alive still!

A small smile slipped onto the man's face as he walked past the wreckage, keeping a keen eye out for any signs of life, or the living dead. And in the man's mind, finding his baby sister was going to be a breeze. All he had to do was search around what looked to be the small area. Hell she could have been in the bunk room, making their escape easy and quick. And there was nothing he was looking more forward to other then getting off this frozen waste land with his sister.

Chris placed his gun back into its holster that hugged his thigh tightly as he pushed through the bunk house door. The room was dark, damp and… foggy. Not to mention cold as hell.

The lack of light and eerie fog somewhat scared the older man as he stepped further into the room. "Claire… you in here," he called, looking on top and underneath the bunk beds, hoping to catch a glimpse of his sister. "It's me Chris…" finished the man, hearing a small humming nose in the back of the room.

Light sparkled in Chris' eyes as he quickly made his way to the farthest bunk bed, seeing a silhouette of what he presumed to be Claire sitting on the floor, with her head resting against the dirty, miss colored sheets.

"Hey Claire, you… you ok," Chris swallowed hard as he waited for a response, only gaining nothing more than a faint laugh. It didn't sound much like Claire, hell it didn't sound like her at all. But he chalked that up to the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Plus, even if it wasn't Claire, that person must have been the one to help her escape Rockfort alive and well. And it was out of character for Chris to just leave someone in need behind. What would Claire think if she found out?

Chris advanced further into the room, trying to get a better look at the figure resting along the bed side. Trying to bring comfort to whoever was resting in the cold dingy room. "You ok," started the man, taking his place next to the unknown figure, hand slightly resting against his gun.

Are… they dead, their so… cold.

The man thought to himself, gently nudging what at close range looked to be a man.

He must be sick… or something…

Chris gently squeezed the shoulder that rested in the palm of his hand, shaking the man again to get his attention. "Hey, I'm here to help… are you ok…?" Chris bent in closer to the figure, until an uneasy feeling washed over him.

"Hump… you help me. Please," stated the 'unconscious' man, gripping Chris' hand in his own, squeezing it, dropping him to the floor in a matter of seconds.

That voice… it can't be… can it?

At first, Chris thought he was hearing things. There was no way on God's green Earth that that voice belonged to Albert Wesker. He was dead, and washed up with the city and its memories in the explosion. There was no way he could be here, in the Artic alive and well… it just couldn't be.

"What no hello Christopher? You're not happy to see me. This is quite a shame, because I am more than happy to see you." Laughed the man, venom entangled with his words, as he manipulated the younger man's body to the ground.

This can't be right… it just can't…

A loud grunt was heard from both men as Chris was flipped over onto his stomach, his left arm pressed flush against his back. Wesker smirked in complete and under excitement as Chris withered underneath him. But the sight it's self would have been better if it wasn't from the large gash in the blonds arm.

He was careless when trying to hunt down the youngest Redfield, and was ambushed by his very own BOW. The scaly green monster came at him, knocking him off balance and slicing into the thin tissue of his arm.

And unfortunately, Chris was poking his head around the lion's den at the wrong time. But to Wesker's amusement, it couldn't have been better. Not only would he take out his sister, and the red headed boy that tagged with her, he was going to kill Chris himself. After he killed his sister of cores, it would only make the moment better seeing the most valuable thing ripped from the brunettes grasp.

"Where is my sister!" Chris grunted through gritting teeth, trying to break his former captains hold, only to take notice as to how strong he was. In fact, he was much stronger then he could remember, in fact it seemed almost inhuman.

What the hell is this…? I can't budge not even a little.

A moment of silence fell in the room as Wesker's grip weakened slightly, leaving a small amount of room for Chris to twist his hand in the tyrants iron hold.

"You know, I'd like to know myself. That brat has been screwing me over ever sense I got here… and now you've come," A small smile played across the blond man's lips as he removed Chris' gun, and tossed it carelessly into the dark abyss that surrounded the two. "This is going to be quite the game, don't you think… Chris?"

Wesker nearly purred as he spoke, resting his lips against the young man's ear.

"Fuck off!" Yelled the younger man, trying to break the hold the other man had on him. But just like his previous attempt it ended in failure. Only granting him more pain as Wesker twisted even more, laughing as he did so.

"No need to be so vulgar Christopher." Taunted the older man watching as Chris dropped his head to the dirty concert floor in a moment of brief defeat. Seeing that struggling was going to get him nowhere, and only make the situation at hand worse. "That's better… just relax… and take it." Ordered the blond tyrant, using his wounded arm to trail down his prays jawline.

"Get off of me!" Chris shouted, pushing his head back in a sad attempt to stop Wesker's farther advances.

"Now, now Christopher, don't be so rebellious," hummed the blond, dropping his lips to his former STARS subordinates' cheek, gently grazing his warm face. Smiling as every touch caused the boy to shiver.

Wesker smiled in pure delight as he continued his advances, watching as his hot headed subordinate continued his meaningless fight.

"L-let me go! What are you doing?" groaned the brunette, pushing his face into the cold unsettling concrete, before kicking at his captor, nailing a direct hit in his wounded arm.

A harsh deep breath escaped the blond man's lips as he loosened his grip, fighting the urge to tend to the pulsing gash. It was bad enough it wasn't properly tended to and the new stimulation of pain only made things worse, casing the gash to spill a crimson color.

Small patters filled the silence of the room, as red droplets printed the cold concrete. Chris' eyes widened as a glimmer of hope opened up. If the blond was hurt, and to the extent to where he was bleeding, it meant he had a four out of ten chance of getting away. And that was better than nothing.

Chris took a deep breath and twisted his way out of the tyrant's weakened grip, pulling himself from the monster. A light smile of relief rested on the young man's face as he searched the room for his gun.

He scurried his way to the far side of the room, eyes franticly scanning the ground as his hands fallowed, dirt and dust-bunnies clinging to his gloved hands.

But little did he know his time spent would be in vain. He felt a harsh tug at his hair, then a rough and unwelcoming meeting of his head with the cold metal wall. At first the action didn't seem real; as if what had happened was something just dreamt up, until the pain came again. The cold metal stinging his cheeks as his vision went blurry.

He… he's so… fast.

The man tock one last deep breath before his head was pulled back yet again, allowing him to view the smirk that rested on the tyrants face. It nearly made Chris sick as he forced his eyes shut as he felt contact with the wall once again. But this time, unlike the others he was engulfed in darkness. His body felt light, and his breathing shallow. As if thin boney fingers laced their way around his neck, cutting of his air.

His first reaction, witch anyone would take was to fight. Fight to get the cold dark hands from around his neck, but as time passed and he lost all function of both his body and mind he gave in. Letting the hands caress him, and pull him deeper and deeper into pure darkness. Leaving his body completely numb.

XXX

Soft grunts were the first things to fill the young man's senses. But unlike before he wasn't cold, in fact he was for once… warm.

He slowly opened his eyes, the light flooding his senses, and causing his head to ach. Instinctively he reclosed his eyes, listening to the sound of soft moaning carrying though to him. It was faint and coming from the other room. Witch was a relief on his part, until he grounded himself, and squinted to see where he was.

A frantic gasp of air filled him as he looked around the small cement room. The walls were grungy, and to his surprise the once cold concrete floor was replaced with a gated material. Allowing him a view of an ever smaller room, with small splatters of blood along the floor and walls, some his and the other from and unknown source.

What the hell is this place… where am I?

The young brunette placed his hand against his forehead, feeling a large lump fallowed by a warm think substance. Chris withdrew his hand, to find it covered in blood. Panic set in as he sluggishly crawled his way over to one of the walls, running his hand along it in an attempt to find some kind of switch. He had seen it in numerous movies, walls with hidden switches and removable bricks. But for him there were no switches, or lose bricks. Just solid thick walls.

A pause fell over the man as he rested his back along the wall. There was no way out, and the only thing that was left was to wait. And if he was lucky Claire would find him, or Wesker would come back, in an attempt to kill him again. And neither of those were his initial plan.

Chris cursed to himself softly, beating himself up for being so careless, as he waited… and listened. He placed his head against the wall, draining out the sound of his own heart beat to pick up any other sounds. And to his luck, a faint groan was still heard on the other side of the wall.

Someone is there… I can still get out of here.

A chipper smile caressed the young man's lips as he pounded his fist against the wall. Trying to get the others attention. "Hey, is someone there? Anyone?" he called out, fiercely pounding the wall, the ach in his head making its self well known as he screamed.

"Hey, let me out! If you can hear me… let me out!" Chris pounded one more time before doubt began to set in. he just couldn't believe it, he had made it all this way, all this way to the Artic to save his baby sister and here he was helpless and trapped. Leaving poor Claire to run the facility all on her own, that was if she hadn't made it out already.

A long sigh left the man's lips as he covered his eyes with the back of his hand, shielding his eyes from the now piercing light. "Just great," huffed the STARS member, mocking himself for having been so carless. Until… the faint sound of footsteps could be heard on the other side of the wall.

It grew closer and closer until it came to a complete stop, causing Chris to pull himself from the wall.

Maybe someone heard me… finally.

A small smile rested on his lips as he watched the wall across from him move, small beams of light coming through, along with wafts of warm air.

Chris quickly rose to his feet, shuffling his way to the source of light and warmth until he caught a glimpse of who had come to his aid.

"Ah, I see your awake," hummed the blond, making his way further into the tiny space, grabbing a hold on the front of Chris' tactical vest.

Disbelief was written all over the younger man's face as he slightly began to shake. His eyes went wide and his body cold as he was lifted from the floor. His feet dangled inches from the floor before he was roughly thrown out of the concrete coffin like room, landing him in a more lavished dark room.

A loud gasp fell from the man's lips as he pulled himself to his feet sluggishly, his eyes narrowing to adjust to the lack of lighting.

My gun… I need to find my gun.

The man scanned the small wooden desk for his gun, until the all too familiar grasp was at his hair again. This time though, his head wasn't smashed against the hard surface of the desk, in fact the course of action coming from his former captain frightened him. His body tensed as he felt strong sturdy lips against his own, causing his body to freeze up.

He struggled to pull away, feeling the monsters tight grip pulling his head back in an uncomfortable position, a sharp gasp of pain coming past their crushed lips.

After what seemed like hours without being able to catch his breath, Wesker pulled back, a smiled of pure delight on his face as he spoke. "I see you have calmed down now," whispered the ex-captain, releasing his former subordinate.

Shock and disbelief riddled the younger man's face as he dropped himself down beside the wooden desk, eyes franticly scanning Wesker's face.

"Wh-what are you trying to do, where's m-my sister?" stammered the brunette, pushing himself flush against the desk as the beast made further advances toward him. This time more personal then the last.

The tyrants hand found his hand comfortable and right at home between the younger man's legs, forcing a husky groan from his prey. "Hush," whispered the blond looking past the man's questions before closing the small gap between them, pushing their bodies together.

"G-get off of me!" yelled Chris, finding it harder to fight the man off.

"I told you already… hush." Scolded the older man, wrapping his free hand around Chris' windpipe, apply just enough pressure to frighten him, or so he thought.

A loud slap filled the dimly lit room as Chris knocked the tyrant's glasses off. Reviling a pair of deep crimson cat eyes.

Chris gasped for air as the new pair of demon like eyes stared back at him. Last time he had seen Wesker was when he was human, and his eyes were a deep shade of icy gray. Something Chris found himself very found and memorized by when the two were a 'pair'. When Wesker wasn't so power crazy and he was human and somewhat passionate.

"Wh-what's happened to you?" Chris questioned, feeling the grip around his neck tighten up.

"Power my dear friend," smirked the monster, shoving his tongue down the young man's throat again, this time succeeding a light moan from his partner's lips.

It was clear to both of them that the other had greatly changed. And up until this point, were doing well on their own, but as hard as it was to admit, Chris had longed for the familiar touch of his captain. In fact he had often wondered if Wesker had really died to begin with.

He remembered so clearly how the man was pierced by that, that monster. And constantly he questioned if Wesker would die in such a pathetic manner, if he would just throw everything away for such a foolish and selfish dream. And the answer was clear now…

Wesker swiftly broke the kiss before making an effort to remove Chris' tactical vest. And surprisingly he was met with little confrontation. "Giving up already Chris?" hummed the blond, marking the marksman's face with tender kisses.

Chris shot an annoyed glare at his captain, before taking notice to his arm. It was wrapped in fresh bandages, or so they had been fresh at one point, seeing as how now they were stained red.

He's still hurt…

The young marksmen thought, eyeing up the wound before reverting his attention back to his captain. "Fuck you…" huffed Chris, more than ready to give his escape one last try, as much as he found a small desire for his former captain he couldn't bring himself to fall to him once again. Especially after how he had fucked him and the others over, resulting in the deaths of his friends.

He could never forgive himself if he allowed desire and old passion to get in the way of his mission. Plus the constant thought of his sister and her whereabouts filtered though is head more now than ever. Here Chris was, sitting around on his ass as Clair fought for her life. And what would she think if she found out about what he allowed Wesker to do to him?

So his only option at this point was to fight and find Clair.

Wesker studied the young man before speaking up again. "Enough…" whispered the man, making quick work of Chris' uniform, reviling his chest, but before he could finish undressing the man a sharp grip worked its way around his still fresh wound.

Sharp grunts fell from the tyrant's lips as Chris dug his nails into the wound, drawing fresh blood from the cut. "Trying to fight the whole way hum?" asked the blond, backhanding the brunette splitting his lip.

"G-get off me," withered Chris, feeling the tight grip around his neck again, along with the quick work of his belt and pants.

He struggled as he felt the thin fabric of his boxers slip as well, and soon after a sharp pain inside of him. A loud gasp fell from his lips as he tried to kick Wesker away, only making matters worse. "You should have just gave in," spoke the blond, removing his fingers from the marksmen to allow himself free of his own pants.

"This is just going to make things harder on you." Hissed the blond, lining himself up with Chris before sharply thrusting his way in, gaining a loud shriek of pain from the young man.

A small grouping of tears clouded the brunette's vision as the pain worsened as Wesker pushed himself in to the hilt. His resolve and self-promise being crushed as he shuttered in Wesker's grip.

This ritual was nothing new to the young man; in fact the person alone was nothing new. But the new found hate and different motives made the situation much worse and uncomfortable.

"I warned you…" huffed the ex-captain between rough thrust, watching as the tears fell from Chris' eyes.

Wesker smiled as he watched the man try and fight, trying to push him away from himself before he struck his 'sweet spot'. A light whimper escaped the brunette's lips as he forced his eyes shut, trying to show no sign of pleasure, only to be let down again.

Another moan of pleasure escaped his lips, Wesker working him into nothing.

"Stop… I-I can't," whimpered the Redfield, his climax drawing closer.

"You can't what Chris?" questioned the blond a smile of satisfaction on his lips as he teasingly wrapped his hand around the other man's member.

"… I need," started the brunette between short quick breaths.

"Need what Christopher?" teased the man, running his hand the length of his subordinate's member.

"…release… p-please." Begged the man, throwing the last of his resolve out the window, feeling the warmth of his ex-captain's hand work him closer to his finish.

Soft moans filled the warm room as Wesker forced his way into the young man, reaching his own climax finishing in the marksmen.

Chris forced his eyes shut again, reaching his own climax, his release found in his captain's hand.

A long moment of silence was shared before soft kisses marked Chris' face, causing him to question his captor.

"What is it… you want with me…" he whispered, feeling weak as a gloved hand ran across his face, resting on the gash above his eye.

"Is it not clear Chris," huffed the man, removing himself from the younger man, adjusting his pants to their proper place. "I want to watch you… watch you suffer." Smirked the tyrant, gently cupping his subordinate's face fluttering it with kisses again.

A nashus feeling washed over Chris as he closed his eyes, damning himself for having fallen so easily to the monster.

"But I do have this left to say Christopher," whispered Wesker against Chris' ear, "If I find Claire before you, I'll take the last thing you have left." A low laugh echoed through the room as Wesker stood, dropping a small fold of brown paper before Chris, before he poke yet again. "Smile Chris, I mean you still have somewhat of a running chance."

And with that, the black cladded man made his escape.

Chris started in disbelief as he gathered his gear, slowly slipping his way back into his uniform. He constantly replayed what Wesker had said to him over and over opening the small fold of paper left behind by the blond.

A light sigh fell from his lips as he addressed his wounds with the contents found in the paper. A small grouping of crushed herbs lined the paper, allowing him to treat his ponding head.

What's he trying to do… what's he trying to prove.

Chris thought, finally coming to terms with what Wesker had said. It was true he had already lost his self-respect for being taken yet again by the power hungry man, and along with that he was going to try and take Claire from him too. And with her gone, then Chris would have truly lost everything; his purpose for all of his hard work, his closure and the last of his family.

But to the blond, this was nothing more than a game, a race to the finish. The prize being Chris' everything.