DISCLAIMER:: Look guys, I think we've been through this enough. I don't own RE you don't own RE. None of us do. Though I'm sure we wished we do. I HAVE AN IDEA! Let pool all of our monies together and buy it! Then we can all own it!

...

Stigmata

Act II

...

hold on to [chance]
lest we
[bleed] ourselves

...

His eyes transfixed on her floating visage in the dim light of the panel next to the stasis tank. An eerie glow had surrounded her,with hair that was floating like a halo above her head and a strange shadow behind her gave her the impression of having wings. His eyebrow furrowed at the strange discoloration of her skin that was still present across her breasts and the apex of her thighs. The rest had faded back to it's normal creamy pale color. He gripped the clipboard tightly and by some unseen force he brought his hand to rest on the cold glass. He felt marginally better physically, the damage she had caused him - however surprising - had not been serious. His mental state was that of another matter. The discoloration faded even more and he wrote something down on his clipboard as his mind pondered all that had happened.

He had hunted her to the woods and when he saw her- the ethereal glow that surrounded her and the strange but alluring change in her features - he had felt strange. She had approached him, wordless, before placing one greenish hand upon his face. In his shock of what he was seeing he hadn't stopped her before it was too late. He could remember seeing things but he could never make them out. In one touch she had overpowered him, making him lose the will to fight and fusing into him something that he didn't understand and leaving him with the feeling of a million bugs crawling through his head. Soon the initial sting stopped and he felt a purely divine feeling flood him. It was unlike him to be this awe stricken by anything, but in the moment with the sheer orgasmic bolt of power she allowed to pass through her body into him he couldn't help but want to give in to her. In that moment he had fallen to his knees before her, with burning eyes and a desire to have her touch him even though he knew it was just a form of submission.

It seemed much like that of a queen ant.

The T-Veronica virus that he had thought to be dormant and unable to awaken again had seemingly done just that and in such a fierceness that her body had simply gone straight into mutation. At first he was taken aback, thinking her to be Alexia, but he knew that was not the case even if the resemblance was close. He could still see that her facial structure was mostly the same, her hair still auburn even if it was burning with a fiery red hue. Her mutation had not completed when he had found her and if he hadn't stopped it with a shot of the antivirus he had just synthesized hours before it would have probably been irreversible. Lucky for him he had it on his person; he was headed to deliver it to the lower labs when she had approached him in the house

Fortunately his own mental capacity was just enough to disrupt the flow of hormones and waves she was emitting. With a wailing scream she lashed out at him and as if her scream was a cue drew forth an entire army of black ants from beneath the ground to attack him. Fiercely crawling up his legs he had fought through them, despite the repetitive stings on his legs and arms that had him searing with pain. They were certainly not ordinary ants, the venom they produced seeming to slow the effectiveness of his own virus. He had latched onto her, throwing her to the ground, teeth bared as he pulled the syringe he had in the pocket of his coat and quickly thrust it into her neck. She was so strong...

She had screamed and attempted to tear at him but he held her down as her eyes had closed and the ants scurried back beneath the earth. As her convulsions stopped he scooped her up and rushed her back to the compound as fast as possible but the ant venom was still at work, this time trying to tear down his nervous system; the T-Virus in his own body managed to slow the toxin. Once he had reached the lab located on the third basement floor and put her in the tank he was nearly on his knees as the burning pain traveled up his body towards his head. He had collapsed not a few minutes after that, his head slapping the tile hard. When he finally came back to conciousness he pulled himself up and rummaged through the refrigerator for the other vial of antivirus and injected himself for good measure.

That had been hours ago and while he should be running tests and doing more blood work on both he and her, all he had done was stand slack still before her tank and just stare.

She had crawled her way into his head and may even still be there.

He knew he didn't feel the same, at the very least, he felt strange and out of place and he knew without a sliver of doubt that the game was irreparably changed if not damaged completely.

Perhaps he should have killed her? Perhaps, though he hadn't desired to. That thing he had fought before had not been Claire Redfield. It was a byproduct of the T-Veronica virus, a mutation she couldn't control. This wasn't something he had anticipated, although years of experience showed that viruses could be as dynamic as they could be static.

He could hear things, like incoherent whispers in his head and he hoped that the antivirus would be enough to flush his system of it. Something told him however, that this had nothing to do with the T-Veronica virus, or at least not the virus itself.

Only time would tell what she had really done to him.

...

how can i [believe]
when this [cloud] hangs over me
you're a part of me that i don't want to
[see]

...

I felt as if I was being suspended in some kind of fluid, warm and comfortable surrounding me on all sides. I inhaled deeply, the twang of pure oxygen filling my lungs as broken images played in my mind. I could see myself running away through the forest, tears dripping down my face and strange sounds echoing through the forests. I remember soon hearing him calling out to me which made me run all the more faster; I was running from him. I could remember the feeling of sticky liquid covering my hands and arms, splattering on my face and the shiver of pleasure I felt at the resounding crack of breaking something in my hands. I smelled the faintest tinge of copper in my nose, blood. It reeked of something else though I can't figure out what.

I let my body slacken in this fluid womb and I wondered briefly if I was drowning. I quickly dispelled that notion aware that if I was drowning I wouldn't be able to breathe. I wanted to open my eyes but they felt as heavy as lead on my face. I could hear the sounds of bubbles and a methodical tapping sound coming from outside of the fluid. Tap, tap, tap, stop, repeat. A tiny beep echoed throughout the water, expanding to my ears as I began to lose the warmth that had surrounded me. I tried opening my eyes again, this time with success and through the fluid I could see a figure standing below me. Blurs of white, black and tiny splotches of red filled my vision, surrounded by a greenish hue.

I tilted my head to the right to look at the dozens of various tubes and wires that ran the length of my arm, towards my chest, my legs, and my head.

Then it hit me like an oncoming train.

I was in a stasis tank, the one place I had feared more than anything I would end up in.

My mouth and eyes widened in silent horror as I reached over slowly and tried to untangle myself from the wires and tubes and pulled them off of me, the sting of an IV ripping through down my arm and out of my vein. Redness bled into the fluid with an alarming frequency and as I bucked wildly while the oxygen tube connected to my mouth and nose was dislodged.

I attempted to bang against the glass, trying to get the attention of the person who was in the room with me, but it seemed their back was turned. A loud series of frantic beeps sounded through the room and the tank and the person below snapped around and rushed towards the tank. Soon it began to drain, bloody fluid seeping away into the bottom, and the glass slid down. Feeling inconceivably dizzy and weak from whatever blood loss I had caused myself in my panic my vision blurred and I fell towards the floor, thick fluid lodged in my lungs and throat. I felt something hard and warm cradle me, disturbing my fall, and a firm push on my chest forced up all of that fluid with a hoarse cough and a sputter.

"Stupid girl." I heard a familiar voice very close to me and as I looked up I was met with the sight of black sunglasses and a pair of thin, stern lips pressed tightly together. Something warm was draped around me.

"Y-You...bastard..." I choked, but for some reason I was almost happy to see him, the fact that he hadn't kept me in that tank any longer was an utter relief.

"You could have killed yourself thrashing around like that." I felt myself being lifted as my eyes drifted shut lazily, too exhausted to say anything. I heard fat drops of something hitting the tile below me but I couldn't be bothered with it. My right arm was growing increasingly colder by the second however my eyes were once again heavy and my heartbeat was painfully slow but hard as I could feel it in my chest.

"Shit." I heard him curse. It was strange, I thought, that it was the first time I had heard him say anything like that. I felt bare fingers take my arm tightly, the heat burning into my cold, goosebumped flesh, and my arm was raised as I was laid down on a flat cold surface. Several stings spread through my arm making me wince but soon the pain from before faded and I exhaled with a sleepy, 'ahh'.

"You've lost quite a lot of blood, dear heart. Can you open your eyes?" His voice was softer than before and had a soothing quality I wasn't used to. My mouth tilted up and I smiled softly. Sleepiness was winning over quickly and his voice was starting to slur in my head.

"Mmmhmm." I sighed.

"Open them."

"Mmmhmmmmmm." I wanted nothing more than to fall asleep right now, despite the uncomfortable table I was on and chilliness of my damp skin in the cold room.

"Claire, you have to open your eyes. I need you to stay with me right now. Do you understand?" Was that a hint of worry I heard in that normally cold voice? Nah, couldn't be.

Slowly but begrudgingly, I cracked one heavy eye open and moaned loudly as I saw the trail of blood on the tile below. I turned my head towards his voice and saw him hunched over with a needle, stitching my arm closed. His sunglasses were gone and his eyes were focused on his work, sweat had formed on his forehead was shining in the overhead light above. His hands were shaking.

"W-why...are you...shaking?" I managed to say, but my throat was sore and every syllable seemed to crack. For some reason all of my previous fear and anger from before when he had our fight was gone and in it's place was something that could only be pure exhaustion.

"It's nothing." He cut me off. I closed my eyes again as I felt a tug on my numb arm. The way he spoke left no room for arguement and really I didn't have the strength to argue.

"What happened?"

"You don't remember?" He asked, seeming the slightest bit surprised.

Honestly, no. I could remember tiny bits and pieces. Our fight, the woods, the blood. I could not remember what had happened to me to land me in a freaking tank. And speaking of which...

"You son-of-a-bitch!" I cried out, my anger from before pushing all of the sleepiness out of my body, "What the hell did you do to me?"

"I'm afraid I don't follow you." He looked at me, obviously done stitching my arm closed.

"Why was I in that...thing?" I was pretty pissed off now and what was even stranger was that he hadn't even berated me for yelling at him. And he was shaking and sweating pretty fiercely. He took a moment to answer, wiping my blood off of his arms before he spoke.

"You had an accident. It was for your protection."

"I don't remember any accident." I scoffed. Clearly there was something he wasn't telling me.

"Hm." He turned back and walked off in the direction of the tank, cleaning the blood off the floor with a towel. I tried to stand and confront him but apparently my legs weren't working and I pitched forward but this time caught myself on the metal table.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?" I called after him. He didn't respond to me, just continued cleaning an already clean floor. What was wrong with him? I had never seen him act like this before, I mean I hadn't been around him long but..."Wesker?" I tried to move back towards the bed but my legs had me stuck there. At the mention of his name he froze stiffly but didn't turn.

"Yes?" His voice was uncharacteristically deep and hoarse. My eyebrow flew almost to my hairline. Man, he was acting weird.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" I asked again, slower this time. Slowly he stood, still shaking slightly and spoke to the tank, although it was directed at me.

"Another time. I have business." Abruptly he dropped the towel and left the room, leaving me confused and just a bit shocked. Unable to do anything else I managed myself into a chair and wrapped the hospital bed sheet he had put on me tighter around my body.

There was definitely something going on that he wasn't telling me.

Of course I'd have to wait until he decided to come back around to try and confront him again. What was I supposed to do until then? I had no idea where in the house I was and I didn't quite feel up to the task of trying to find my room from here. Sighing I looked around for anything that would give me clues. All I could find was a discarded empty syringe on the floor and a strange moving black line coming right towards me.

Huh?

I bent down to inspect the moving line and found that it was what appeared to be ants. How had ants gotten into a safeguarded and high security lab? As they neared closer I froze but for some reason I felt as if I had nothing to fear from these insects. I never really had a fear of insects to begin with but even stranger was that I felt a small comfort in having them there. The line began crawling up my leg and I giggled as they tickled me even though I knew I should be freaked out considering if that many wound up biting me it wouldn't be good. They never did bite me though, just continued crawling up my leg and wound up stationary in my hand. With wide eyes I brought my hand to eyelevel and examined them more closely. They were just black ants and although a bit larger than most black ants I had seen there was nothing strange about their appearance. The only thing strange was their behaviour.

They were acting like tiny docile pets other than the little annoying insects they were.

I shook my head and bent down, placing my hand close to the floor, "Go on."

With wider eyes I watched as they marched right off my hand and back into the invisible crack they seemed to come from.

Soon after they had disappeared the door to the lab opened quietly and a woman with graying brown hair and a pair of glasses entered. I wasn't surprised to see that it wasn't Wesker considering he seemed to be quite keen on getting away from me before.

"Miss Redfield?" She asked and while seeming to be a bit stern in the way her hair was pulled into a severe bun and the way her white coat looked as if it had never seen a wrinkle in it's life, her voice held a maternal tone I picked up on immediately.

"Yes, ma'am." Always respect your elders, Claire. Unless of course they're batshit insane bioterror criminals.

"Dr. Wesker has asked me to take you back to your room. Are you feeling well?"

"My legs are a little shaky but I'm okay. Doctor..." I wanted to know her name, afterall she was the first person I had seen besides Wesker who had actually spoken to me in what felt like a dozen years.

"Marie Bardeau, dear. Would you like me to get a wheelchair?" Straight to business, although it was nice to be cared about for once even if she was getting paid to do it.

"Umm..." I tried standing and managed to get a to wobbly stand, "No, I can walk." I took a step forward and stumbled but her hand caught my upper arm. Damn weak legs.

"Here, lean on me. Are you hungry at all?" She asked as we walked from the laboratory and eventually past the doors I had thrown the mug at days before.

"Nope. Really I'm just fine, I don't want to take up your time. I can make it back to my room now." A small laugh came from the woman beside me as she slowly helped me up the stairs.

"Honey, you couldn't even stand on your own. Don't worry, you aren't taking up my time. Actually I've been kind of keen on seeing what this house looks like from the inside." Ha, she's warming up to me. I didn't care that she was employed by that whackoid, I just wanted someone to talk to.

"Really? You mean you've never been in here?"

"Oh no, I've had no reason to be. Doctor Wesker is a very private man. The scientists and employees have a different way of coming into the attached labs." I made a small 'hm' of recognition and when we reached my room I asked her if she could help me get a pair of pants on. I was sure I could have managed it myself but I just didn't want her leave. God I was so lonely. She agreed and we chatted for a few minutes before she said she had to leave to do some work downstairs. She left silently but mentioned before that it was nice to finally meet me, even if under odd circumstance. Before I could ask her what that meant she was gone and I was alone again.

I fell back onto my bed and crawled under the covers, trying to rack my brain as to what happened that had Wesker acting so weird. Due to the strain I had apparently suffered before waking up and the blood loss I had endured though I was hit with an extreme wave of exhaustion.

Before I knew it I was asleep again, my body feeling unnaturally cold even though I was wrapped tightly in my blanket and fire red eyes burned in my head.

...

and i can [feel] it
won't
[embrace] it
it's
[overwhelming] how far you take it

...

In the silence of underground he sat alone, in the dark extracting a vial of blood from his tourniquet wrapped arm. His sunglasses had long been discarded and he sighed in relief at the absence of light in his sensitive eyes. Oh how he wished the entire world were dark like this. He pulled the needle out slowly and dropped it into a special bin that sat different from the other needle bins. This one he never allowed to be touched by anyone but himself as it was only devoted to items that came in contact with his own body fluids. Walking over to the high powered microscope he caught sight of himself in the mirrored window that seperated this room from the one next to it. He looked mostly the same but he certainly felt strange, this only being exaggerated by having contact with her earlier. When she had called his name he could feel a pull to her and although she certainly hadn't been aware of it it felt like she was summoning him or something otherwise. He had managed to get away from her then but he knew he couldn't avoid her forever, his plan for the antibody having been changed drastically into now finding out what exactly she did to him. Peering into the microscope he could almost feel the same rush he had gotten when he had held her in his arms after her accident in the tank.

Just the thought of her made his skin burn and his heart speed up just a bit.

This was something that could not be tolerated, he was not some dog to be trained. It would not be tolerated. He would just have to figure out what she had done to him and how to reverse it. As he watched the tiny T-Cells wiggling about in his blood however he could find no anomaly whatsoever. He let out the slightest of growls and disposed of the slide and turned off the microcope. He'd have to run some tests to see deeper. Perhaps it was in his brain? That was something that a simple MRI should detect.

For now though, he was feeling much more worn out than normal and decided that he'd take his weekly nap early this week and decided he'd feel better after some sleep. He locked the small personal lab behind him and noted that the entire facility was deserted. Checking his watch he saw that it was nearly four in the morning as he walked down the hall and through the decon showers. The sun hadn't risen yet and for that he was grateful; even if his personal quarters were completely blacked out it was as if his body could sense the difference between night and day and that would make it more difficult to fall asleep. He walked quietly up the winding stairwell, making sure not to wake the redhead who was undoubtedly still sleeping, and slipped into his room. In the darkness he wrenched the clothes from his body not bothering to fold them and put them away as he normally would and fell into his large bed rather ungracefully. He closed his eyes and began to drift off when he heard something coming from the room across the hall. He concentrated his ears to listen in closer when he clearly deduced that it was in fact Claire making some rather unorthodox sounds. Unwarned, he began to feel a tingle in his lower stomach, something that was completely unwelcome but at the same time felt rather...nice. As her noises picked up momentum he realized that she must have been asleep but her whimpers indicated that something was clearly running unbidden in the Redfield's sleeping head. A rather loud moan echoed in his ears and the tingle in his groin grew more obvious.

What in the hell was going on? His eyes widened as his breaths quickened along with hers and soon the tingle grew to a pleasurable throbbing, one that he hadn't felt in over a decade.

Claire was having some kind of wet dream and by some phenomena, no doubt due to earlier, his body was following along the same path.

"Fuck." He hissed, more out of the sheer pleasure than out of loathing for the disgusting lack of control he had lost for a moment. Of course he denied it was that at all. Her moaning continued and he had to fight the urge, one that shouldn't have been there at all, to rush into there and do unmentionable things he had never given thought to before. He felt his climax rising with her own as her voice grew in pitch and the intensity of the sensation had him digging into his sheets with white knuckles. He tried fervently to ignore it, to press it back down, to will every cell in his body to not let go but when her voice broke as what he was sure was his name falling from her lips his hips bucked up slightly as he was brought to an almost painful orgasm, his release spilling over his stomach. It was so intense that he had to bite his lip to keep from making any noises, drawing blood and his hands fisted into fabric that had ripped minutes ago. His body loosened slightly and as much as he wanted to run and wash himself off he did nothing but lay there, offended but still intrigued. How had that been possible? If she could do that to him...what else was her brain capable of? Did it only happen when she was asleep? Questions flooded him, the scientist in him more piqued than the disgust he felt but soon he felt his body relax in preparation for much needed sleep. He reached over to his nightstand and grabbed a discarded towel from his shower earlier that day to wipe himself off with then decided to put his underwear back on. That had taken an absurd amount of strength out of him and though he knew he should be angry that she was able to control his body like that, he felt a sense of calm wash over him. Another thing he hadn't felt in over a decade and he allowed himself to give into that at least.

Soon enough he was asleep, dreamless of course but not as tense as he usually was.

...

i am in [misery] there ain't nobody who can comfort me
why won't you
[answer] me?
the
[silence] is slowly killin' me
...

Sitting on the toilet I waited for the water to heat up so I could finally shower. It felt like days had passed since I had actually been clean and when I sniffed myself this morning I was pretty disgusted. I stood carefully, knowing that my legs were still a bit unstable, and reached for the cabinet where I kept the towels. Faced with an empty cabinet I cursed loudly, knowing that I had to go on a search for a towel and had to put my clothes back on. I inwardly yelled at myself for not checking this before I got undressed and trudged along half dressed downstairs first to that bathroom. Literally I swear this man had bathrooms everywhere, so there had to be a towel somewhere. However, the patron saint of towels, or whoever watched over terry cloth products, was not kind to me with that bathroom. No towels there either. I checked the bathroom closer to the kitchen and found none there as well.

"What the hell, Wesker?" I muttered underneath my breath as I made my way back upstairs, the water still running and resigning myself to drip dry city. I walked past his bedroom and froze.

He had a bathroom in there. A bathroom with towels. Towels I needed. Towels I could borrow.

He had towels, I think, would be the message I'm trying to convey here.

Raising an eyebrow I reached my hand out slowly to see if the door was even unlocked. I turned it all the way without pushing it open verifying that it was. I could have walked in, I mean it wasn't as if he would even be in there anyway. It was like twelve o' clock and Wesker, in the very rare instances he slept, was always in the labs before the buttcrack of dawn. So no harm if I just walk in there and take a towel right? Couldn't hurt.

I slowly step in and note that it's inconceivably dark in the middle of the day, something I should have expected. I search the wall for a light switch when I hear some rustling not five feet from me. In half a second I freeze and realize that I'm not as alone as I thought I was.

"What?" His voice echoed in the darkness still groggy from sleep and I raise my eyebrow as my fears of some guard licker or hunter being in his bedroom are dispelled.

"I didn't know you were still in here. I came to see if you had any towels I could borrow. You do realize it's like noon right?" I said, my voice strangely quiet and I'm not as weirded out as I should have been at being in the dark with a tyrant.

"Yes, Miss Redfield, I am quite aware as to what time it is." He gruffed at me and I rolled my eyes in the dark.

"Well, what are you doing in bed still?" Yeah I knew it was a risky move questioning his whereabouts but I had to admit I was a bit worried. What could have him feeling so crappy anyway? What happened to god? Gods didn't sleep until noon.

"Perhaps," His voice deepened a bit and the sheets rustled as he turned over, "I wanted to sleep in, is that alright with you, Miss Redfield?"

Sarcastic bastard.

"Look, I was just trying to be nice. You don't have to be a jerk." He really didn't. Of course when did that stop him from doing anything?

"The towels are in the top left cabinet in the bathroom."

Mumbling something rude I'm sure he heard, I made my way to those precious towels, fumbling around in the dark like a blind person. I hit the corner of what I presumed to be a dresser with my foot and cursed, which in turn caused the man still in bed to sigh loudly.

"Is it okay if I turn on a light? Unlike you, I can't see in complete blackness." Okay so that was more snarky than it needed to be but he deserved it. Jackass.

He didn't respond but in less than a few seconds the room was flooded with a dim light from next to him. I muttered a small 'thanks' and found his bathroom, the cabinet and then my towels before turning around to finally take my shower. The water was still running, I just hoped my drain hadn't clogged and the whole bathroom was flooded by now.

I really shouldn't have turned around.

There he was, laying across the bed on his side leaning on his elbow with those serpentine eyes fixed on me. The hardness of his chiseled body stood out contrastingly from the seeming softness of his bed which made it all the more obvious. His hair was ruffled a bit, a few strands falling into his eyes in a way that could only be sexy and he was clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs with no blankets covering him whatsoever.

I felt my mouth open a bit which he noticed and didn't even try to conceal the smirk on his face.

"Can I help you, dear heart?" Damn that smug bastard. It was a wonder he didn't have a mirror over his bed so he could just lie there and admire himself like the conceited douche he was. By some unseen force I had been rendered speechless for a moment when my eyes found that perfect hip chisel peeking out from under his waist band. I refused to look elsewhere, even though my body obviously wanted to, and I forced myself to meet his eyes.

"Thank you for the towels." I muttered and finally forced myself to leave the room.

"Is that all you needed?" He said to my back but instead of answering him I just walked out, hanging on to whatever dignity I had left.

Outside I hung my head, feeling like the most awful traitor.

It was bad enough to be living with him for the sake of my life but to actually apprise him as something sexual would be enough to have my brother disown me.

Okay so he wouldn't disown me but the sense of disappointment he'd feel would be great enough to make me feel like the lowest of the low.

It's because your hormonal, Claire, get a grip on yourself. You don't actually find him attractive like that do you?

"Ugh, god." I slapped my hands to my face as I walked down the hall, afraid to think about it just in case Chris and I had some kind of sibling telepathic bond. Yeah, it was that bad.

I needed a shower, then perhaps I could scrub myself of this problem. Yeah, a shower would do me good.

But of course...

The shower did me no good whatsoever. In fact it only made my problem worse. First I was afraid to take my clothes off with the illegitimate fear of being unclothed in the same house as he was. Once I conquered that I didn't want to even put my own hands on my body to wash myself because thoughts of him kept me feeling hot and bothered everytime I touched my loofah. If those two weren't bad enough my mind kept wandering to what it would be like for him to shower with me.

I swear I almost threw up.

Okay so that was a bit of an exaggeration but what exactly was wrong with me to have me acting like that? Was I so immature that I couldn't even look at a half naked man without wanting him to do terrible things to me involving ice and a bucket of ice cream? I mean it wasn't as if I had never thought about it before, even when I wasn't living with him. I had dreams about this man before and not the kind you wake up from completely dry.

Of course this all stopped after Rockfort once I discovered exactly what kind of maniacal bastard he was and I had immediately felt better about it because it felt like I was betraying my brother the whole time. I suppose it was different now, and the reason I felt so crappy for it, because I was living with him now and he was like two doors down.

So to speak.

Not soon enough I had effectively cleaned myself and left the bathroom hurriedly, as if it was a dirty place I didn't need to be in anymore. I quickly tossed my clothes on and ran back to my bed, pulling the blanket over my head. I turned over and felt something damp touch my skin.

I moved quickly, throwing myself out like I had been burned by the sheets and pulled the blanket off to investigate. The wet spot on the bed was small and at first I was mortified that I had wet the bed last night. Upon sniffing it I was alerted to a smell that while kind of musky was not strong and ammonia scented.

Oh thank the heavens.

I looked up to the pillow and back down to the spot as if to figure out where it had come from and when I realized where my hand came fast to mouth to cover it.

"I had a wet dream." I muttered behind my hand in startled realization. I hadn't ever had a dream like that before and I was kind of offended. Don't get me wrong, I am no stranger to my own body and I masturbate regularly - or I did before all of this - like any other sexually active woman but the thought that I had had an orgasm in my sleep without my knowing was sort of weird.

With a sigh I placed my elbow on the edge of the bed and felt really strange in my own skin all of a sudden. Some really weird things had been going on since I had woken up in that tank not too long ago and I wished I knew what had caused all of it. I didn't though and I knew better to ask Wesker.

In fact I was pretty sure I'd be trying to avoid him even more lately than normal, especially with my revelation from earlier.

If I could see my own reflection I was quite sure my face would be red considering the temperature of my body had risen in response. I wondered what exactly caused me to have a dream like that. What had I been dreaming of?

I shook my head, maybe it was nothing. I watched a special on the Discovery Channel one time that said that wet dreams didn't always occur with an actual dream. I certainly didn't remember dreaming of anything last night. Not feeling like wasting anymore time thinking on something that was probably nothing, I got up to get a set of extra sheets from the closet and change out the ones on the bed. I dug through the linens on the shelf in the back for awhile, irritated that none seemed to be in there, before luck struck and I found a lone white sheet folded beneath four boxes.

I should have just grabbed the sheet and left but true to morbid Redfield curiosity my attention turned on the boxes. Three were unsealed and slightly open, filled with what appeared to be some dusty blouses and dresses but the forth was what really caught my eye. It looked older than the other ones and had a shipping label on the side that was worn but I could make out a few letters and numbers. It was taped up and sealed tight and looked as if it had never even been opened. Of course that wouldn't deter me because I had a knack of sticking my nose in places where it was sure to get dirty. I wanted to open that box but I didn't want to rip it in a way where it couldn't be closed again and that tape was at least three layers tight, so I went to the bathroom and grabbed a pair of cuticle scissors from the first aid kit under the sink. As I went back to the closet however a knock came at the door and I panicked like a kid who had been caught digging in their parent's closet. I dropped the scissors and kicked them under the bed and swung the closet closed quietly.

"Yes?" I called, trying not to sound guilty, the way my voice rose an octave certainly didn't help my cause. The door opened quickly as if the knocker had a problem with waiting the half a second that I had been covering my tracks. I already knew who it was, considering it was same person as it always was but I hadn't really expected him to look so...formal.

He was decked out in a black perfectly ironed suit complete with a crisp white oxford beneath and a matching black tie. His hair was perfect once again and the sunglasses were positioned on his face in a way that made them look surgically attached. Did he have a guide or diagram in his room on how to dress like a pompous asshole or did it just come naturally to him? He never failed to make me feel like a bum with all of his perfection. It had been almost refreshing to see him kind of disheveled this morning, of course I hadn't paid attention to that.

Yeah I was too busy paying attention to other things like his abs and his sex hair and his-

For God's sake, Claire, he's right there!

"Can I help you?" I said, a little too quickly than I had meant to but right now I was a bit swamped in my mortification at the fact that he had seen...that. He apparently took no outward notice of it and continued on his business.

"I have a meeting in an hour. I came to ask if you needed anything while I was out." He said it with such normalcy as if it was commonplace for him to ask if I needed him to pick stuff up on his way home. I was too floored by the surreality to even snark at him and instead I just came up with the absolute worst thing I could possibly say ever. Because I'm so damn smooth like that.

"I'moutoftampons." Don't even ask me why I said it, it just came out and besides due to the cramps I had been having, even though mild, I knew that it would be time for that fun time of the month to begin soon. The look on his face was pretty priceless though, I'll admit that. But what he said in response was quite what I hadn't been expecting. I'd been expecting a stiff and uncomfortable nod or a non-descript, 'mmmhmm' instead I got this:

"Do you have cramps?"

My eyebrow flew up to my hairline and my eye twitched. "...Yes." I couldn't believe he had just asked me that.

"Is there any...particular kind...you need?" I felt a huge bubble of insane laughter building in my gut. The thought of Wesker at the store buying a box of tampons, looking all holier-than-thou with an evil scowl threatening to knock some poor cashier's block off if they said anything to him made me want to roll around laughing. This had to be a dream, it really did.

"Uhh-no. Any kind is fine." My voice cracked from the impending laughter but internally I was noting that ever since I had woken up in that tank he had become increasingly even more weird around me. Before I could say anything in response he was gone faster than he came, leaving me alone with my weird thoughts again.

"Thank you..." I said to no one but myself and the walls.

...

no, it's much
[better] to face these kinds of things with a sense of
poise and
[rationality]

...

The meeting had gone fairly well, all things considered but now he found himself faced with a task he'd rather not be doing. To think that the ever impenetrable Albert Wesker would be sitting in his black Mercedes with the windows rolled up in the parking lot of a supermarket, having some strange form of sympathy period cramps of all things and pondering how to go about purchasing tampons.

He huffed loudly and got out of the car with all of the dignity he could manage, although lately his dignity was taking a plunge in the toilet. Last night had been abhorring, though it hadn't felt that way at the time. No it had felt quite nice actually and-

"Oh this is ridiculous." He snapped at the empty parking lot and pondering on whether it would just be easier if he killed the girl. If he was sharing her orgasms and her period cramps he decided it probably wouldn't do well if he did though and walked into the sliding doors of the store. What the hell was happening right now? He didn't buy tampons! He shouldn't have asked to begin with and honestly he wasn't sure why he did. He should have laughed at her and told her that she could have her menses on sandpaper for all he cared. Although true to her Redfield nature she probably just would have given him a dumb look at the word 'menses'. No, her brother would though, she would have thrown something at his head. For some reason that made him smile slightly until he remembered why he was in this backwater establishment to begin with. He couldn't justify why he had asked though, it just felt right at the time and ? He searched around, skulking about in a way that made an old lady back away from him with her cart full of wheat bread and Ensure in tow quickly. After what had seemed like an enternity stuck in the area next to the pharmacy an attendant approached him. He was dressed in the style of a typical wanna be gangster, all white and pasty with his work khakis nearly falling off of his ass and some really fake looking silver chain. His white boy accent shown through clear as a bell.

"Can I help you find something, sir?"

"No." Wesker responded, feeling his eyebrow twitch immensely. That annoyance of a woman he lived with would pay for this later.

"You seem like you're lost."

"I'm fine." He said through teeth bared behind a closed mouth. As if he had been bitten the kid walked off, his shoulders slumped in typical teenager fashion and Wesker returned to searching for his offensive items. Finally he located the little sign above the aisle that read 'Feminine Hygeine' and he wanted to wince. He stood before a huge variety of feminine products before he took two in his hands and read the labels.

"Super absorbent? Extra absorbent? Extra-Super absorbent? How much could a woman possibly bleed?" An older woman beside him snickered and he sent a small glare at her through his sunglasses but she didn't see it.

"The wife send you out for girly products?" She said, still smiling and clutching her little hand basket tightly as she picked out a box of pantyliners.

"Hn." He responded, still reading over the labels. He wanted to scream at her that that annoyance was not, nor would she ever be, his wife. He didn't feel like making a scene tonight though. He just wanted to get this over with as fast as possible

"Ahh, well that would explain why you look like a fish out of water over here. How old is she?"

"23." His eyebrow twitched and while a part of him wished that this nosy lady would just go away he didn't see the point in being hostile.

"She'll probably appreciate these then," She removed a light purple box off the shelf and handed it to him. He took it and read the label. Regular absorbancy with a satin-glide applicator with petal tips. He didn't see the point in all of this complication with feminine hygeine products but women did have a tendency to be terribly complicated. That's why he mostly ignored them, "Are you two newlyweds?" She asked with a dreamy look in her eyes. Oh great, he would get one of those over-emotional women too. Now she was probably going to bore him to death with questions.

"Yes." He wanted to bang his head into the maxipads but he knew it would be pointless. The damn things were too soft. Might scare the lady off though.

"Well, it's good she has a man who's willing to pick up her tampons. You have a nice night, young man." She turned and walked off in the opposite direction, leaving Wesker behind with a slightly surprised look on his face. Young man? He couldn't help the tiny smirk as he made his way to the counter.

The girl behind the counter - she couldn't be much older than 16 - was standing there with her arms crossed and was popping her gum rudely. He grit his teeth together and placed the box on the conveyer belt. Her eyebrow raised and she smirked at him before she picked up the box and scanned it.

"That'll be three fifty," She said non-commitally in a voice that sounded far too valley-girl for this area of the country. He didn't have too much time to focus on how ridiculous teenagers these days were - that would be way too old-man of him anyhow - because as he was pulling out his wallet a terrible searing pain ran up his side. He winced and buckled slightly as he grabbed the bag hurriedly and threw the smallest bill he had - a twenty - near the register. He didn't stick around to collect the change and told her to keep it as he bound out of there. The pain came again, this time wrapping around his front and spreading up his back. He buckled down to one knee, hitting the pavement as he desperately tried to shake it off. His skin burned fiercely from his hip to his armpit and he wrenched his shirt up to reveal red tinged flesh, bubbling in some areas as if it was being cooked. Despite it's severity he knew that even something like this shouldn't be so painful to him and it was then that he knew that it really wasn't him who was injured.

It was Claire.

A/N: Well honestly I cut a part out of this, I was going to make it longer but I figured what the hell. I NEEDED to hurry up and update this so here it is. I'm not completely pleased with it but I'll probably fix it later. I did love the part with the supermarket AND SPEAKING OF WHICH! I have a hilarious -or at least I think so anyway- little drabble/one shot I'll post tomorrow after I finish tonight. I have been writing soooooo much...so many letters...so many...words...MY BRAIN! Lol. You kids know what to do!