saddlebrat: Thank you! If this chapter isn't up to par I plan to tweak it anyhow.

TanuSherry: Maritza always gets out of her little spots.

Tenebrarum: Thanks! Here it is!

Sip Fornicaras: Vodka isn't so terrible, it's the cheap stuff that will do it though like Ivanabitch. But Claire should probably watch what and when she's drinking ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or its characters, but I do own this story and any original characters.

Electio

Chapter 2: Gravatus

April 16, 2001 Monday 11:52 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Confused

"I… see you've met my friend." In my head I knew I sounded like an idiot, but I couldn't risk saying what I really wanted to say. Let's just say I was going to call him by Wesker, and a few expletives would have followed.

Maritza didn't seem at all to catch on to my apprehension. "Yes it's so nice to meet the infamous Victor that swept you away from us."

I was so drunk that I could've sighed in relief.

"Well, I was just worried about you; it seems that whenever you're around I miss you."

I didn't know Maritza cared that much about me, but instead of being rude I nodded at her, probably looking like an idiot.

"Nice to see you Claire," she stated sweetly, disappearing back into her apartment.

Wesker knew that I had questions for him, but he only went back into the apartment, deliberately avoiding eye contact with me. God he was lucky I was feeling sicker than I ever had before.

April 17, 2001 Tuesday 9:45 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Sick

That was it, I was calling it: the end of this sudden date with my toilet. I'd been retching so loudly that I swear I heard Wesker begin to pace out of vexation. Of course I didn't want him to think of me as some party-girl who did this every night and morning. He wasn't exactly the typical roommate a college student had, and really he wasn't typical in any sense. Usually I was a pretty mature individual, but the fact that he had the wisdom of a tortoise was quite intimidating. That was enough to force me to push myself up from the floor and draw a bath for myself.

I don't remember if I showered last night, jus that I slept on the couch to spare Wesker of vodka breath and possible flailing arms. So I happily sunk down into the water, letting it wet the hair at the nape of my neck. A few times I dozed off, something I only decided to stop doing when the water started to cool. After scrubbing myself clean I toweled myself off, discovering pruned skin that would need much regenerative therapy from some overpriced, greased down moisturizer that Wesker had coincidentally bought thinking that I would pick it out for myself. Before that though, I decided to tackle the matter of my tangled mane. Wincing, I yanked the ponytail holder from the messy bun that sat atop my head, and I hated myself all over again. When I started brushing my hair started at the ends to avoid pulling out too much from the roots, but as I made my way up I noticed that my hair seemed quite long.

I finished brushing the section and pulled it down to see that it reached the bottom of my unbound breast. "What the fuck?" The bathroom door opened, letting in the cool air from the apartment, but I didn't bother to look as I knew it was Wesker. "I could've sworn I cut my hair last night," I said more to myself. I looked to the waste basket to see if I would find any of the hair I'd previously cut, but it was empty. I'd forgotten that Wesker had taken out the trash last night, and I didn't expect him to have looked around for any hair.

Maybe I didn't cut my hair, maybe I thought I did; last night was trippy as hell. There was a moment of renouncing men and then a whacked-out Russian who couldn't let go of the Soviet era. So as I thought I'd done the night before, I took the pair of scissors from the medicine cabinet, chopping off about four inches. As I threw the locks into the waste bin I took a moment to see if I'd love or hate my amateur job, and decided it'd do until I could get to a salon for some layers. Suddenly I remembered that Wesker had been watching me, but before I could acknowledge his presence, I noticed a fullness to my hair that hadn't existed before. The texture was wavier, and though I'd learned in intro level Bio courses that twenty-two was the age of changes, I didn't expect them to be overnight.

My focus on my appearance must have bothered Wesker, because he asked, "What is it?" with what interestingly sounded like concern.

"I'm just getting old," I replied, still staring at my reflection. Rather than search for anything else 0out of fear of disappointment- I made my way to the doorway that Wesker insisted on preoccupying. While he was being so attentive I decided to inquire about our arrangements.

"How much longer are we staying here?"

Blank stare in place, he moved aside to allow me across the threshold. "I've been calculating the next step."

Walking to my room, I felt a sense that I could only define as ethereal, almost as if I was halfway into an out of body experience. This feeling was only exacerbated by the fact that Wesker was close behind me. "Is it that bad?"

"It will be taken care of." Though my mind was preoccupied, I noted his declaration , appreciating the fact that for once I had someone to think about the details and take care of things. I still didn't know what to call this thing we had going on, but it appeared to be a serious relationship. We never mentioned it or used labels, but he was still here, and he hadn't cut me off in the bedroom.

Stopping in front of my dresser I noticed that I had my arms folded so tightly over my chest that my breasts were sore. I fished out a pair of underwear and jogging pants from my drawers, putting them on first. The tenderness in my breasts refused to fade and seemed to worsen as I leaned down to my shirt and bra drawer. I threw on a racerback tank before attempting to put on my bra, but my breasts were so swollen that they were spilling over the top of the brassiere. Since this would be extremely uncomfortable to deal with all day, I threw the bra back into the drawer finding that I could go without one as long as I wore a hoodie. I turned to Wesker to complain about this newest finding, but a cop knock made both of our heads snap towards the direction of the door. The interruption had sunk my mood even more, and I stomped to the door noisily to let my frustration be known, but when I made it to the door without a peep from Sidorov I made a mental note of the oddity. Usually he would look for any accidental racket as reason to beat the ceiling with his cane, yet this intentional noise had slipped by him. Perhaps he'd fallen asleep watching a game show, but I couldn't for the life of me understand why I bothered to speculate.

Annoyed with both the interruption and myself, I flung the door open without checking the peephole, a mistake that could have had severe consequences. However, it only made me happier about the surprise that was behind the door. "Leon!" I had intended to shriek loudly but I was far too tired to muster up the energy, and the only reason I managed what I did was because Wesker needed a signal to barricade himself in the bedroom. The thought of having these two in the same apartment at one time frightened me so that I felt myself become hot with not only fear but guilt, and when I felt the latter I was known to get quite chatty. "Do you want something to eat; for like the first time in forever I actually have real food!" More guilt over food that was purchased with Albert Wesker's money. "When did you get here? Is this some kind of fancy business trip?"

The only thing he offered me was a smile on that handsome face of his though, probably attributing my nervousness solely to excitement. "Claire, I'll just take a beer."

With my nervous smile still in place, I pulled a bottle from the fridge and walked back over to the couch he had plopped down onto. "Usually you eat like a horse, what's up?" I set his beer down on the coffee table before taking a seat next to him.

An accomplished smile spread across his face, "Well, I just so happen to be dating the girl across from you who loves to cook."

Wow, I thought to myself. Leon and Maritza were both good looking people so it only made sense that they'd hook up, but I also knew that my buddy had the tendency to become extremely awkward around women. In my mind I attempted to play out a scenario in which they'd meet, but I came up with nothing other than a scene of him dropping his food in some restaurant at the sight of her. It seemed she was getting to know quite a few people in my life, and though the habit of suspicion had been hammered into me I narrowed it down to it being a sign from the universe that I needed to make more female friends.

When he opened the beer I noticed his muscles flexing just beneath his skin. Working as an agent had done him good in such a short amount of time, yet I couldn't appreciate his body in the same way that someone like Maritza would. She had nothing to do with that, there was something in me that just never made me want to jump him. Perhaps our friendship was just that and our bodies knew it. We never mistook fear for chemistry, and those traumatic events only bound us in a platonic fashion.

"So what was up with you and that road trip shit?"

For a second I considered getting myself a beer from the 'fridge, but smell of his made me nauseous. "Road trip's over," I offered a bit too enthusiastically.

"What happened with your boyfriend?" He nearly slung beer everywhere when he raised his hands in exasperation.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I teased. Though I'd been lying for some time Leon wanted details, scenes played out so he could produce a picture show in his head, but I had not become that talented in the art of deception. I wouldn't mention even the faked events that marked the pretend relationship of Sara Ivanov and Jeffrey Saunders. He would have to deal with obscurity just as I did, and maybe because he didn't know the true identity of the mystery man he would paint a happier picture than I could.

April 17, 2001 Tuesday 12:00 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Fine

Leon stayed for as long as his libido would allow him, something I figured I could excuse him for, especially since Wesker was still holed up in my room, probably asleep or reading some news about politics in a country I would never hear about. As I said goodbye for the day Maritza had seemed to be examining me for something, almost as if she knew me better than I thought she did. However nothing was odder than Leon's nerve to make a statement about the size of my breasts, and it bothered me because I thought I'd done such a good job at hiding them. He also made a comment about the length of my hair, and then he went so far as to say that I looked happy. The bartender had said the same thing…

Once more I found myself looking into the mirror, and I then found myself thinking I looked prettier. Never had I been the type to just sit there and admire myself, but today was already one of those strange days. Eventually I began checking my body in the full sized mirror on the bathroom door, disappointed to find I'd gained some love recently. This prompted me to pull out my scale, and I removed my hoodie, taking a deep breath before I stepped onto it. More disappointment, it told me that I had gained five more pounds. My bedroom door opened and I saw Wesker staring at me, probably trying to figure out what the hell I was up to now, and then a thought popped into my mind.

"Wesker are you sure you're sterile?" I turned to the side and pulled up my hoodie, sucking my stomach in only to find that there was still evidence of a pooch.

Brow furrowed, he neared me, surprising me by pulling me into an embrace, but I continued to stare into the mirror. This prompted him to run a hand over my stomach, the bump feeling more prominent than ever now despite its size. Without permission he began pulling up my hoodie, causing me to protest, but even without Tyrant strength he overpowered me. I wanted to yell that now wasn't the time, to tell him that my concerns were merited in these small changes. I knew my body and I knew that something was different.

"I just want to check," he whispered in my ear, and that was enough to calm me. He then peeled up my tank just over the top of my areolas, and I felt him pull back a bit. His hands moved to my breasts, squeezing slightly, but that was enough to make me grimace at the feeling. "How does that feel?"

"They've been feeling sore for the past few days," I admitted.

"Your areolas have darkened…. veins are more visible. That's impossible."

"What does all of that mean?" I heard my voice raise a few octaves, fear taking hold of me. "You said I couldn't get pregnant by you." I turned to look at him, but he looked more perplexed than I've ever seen him, a frightening sight. This man never ran from anything, not even death from what I had heard; he proudly stared down his fate, determined to go through with his plan despite uncertainty about the outcome. Right now, I couldn't even convince myself that he was certain of anything.

"Go to the bedroom, I'll be there in a moment."

"Why?"

"Claire, now."

As I made my way to my room I heard him turn on the faucet, but eventually it the sound of water spraying into the sink was drowned out by my heart pounding. I felt lightheaded by the time I reached my bedroom, taking a seat on the edge of my bed to catch my breath. I don't think I ever experienced this amount of anxiety, not even when I was being tortured by those crazy Ashford twins. This kind of thing was life-changing for me; if I was pregnant then it was by the most wanted man in the world, it would be the niece or nephew of a man that hated their father's guts, and what kind of life could we lead? Pregnant, hunted, hiding. Just as I was about to send myself into a panic attack over a dozen scenarios, Wesker entered the room, holding his hands in the air in typical doctor fashion. I wasn't sure what he intended to do but that wasn't a good sign.

"I need you to stand up Claire." he instructed, his voice cold, his gaze blank.

Had he not set such a serious tone, I would have probably asked why, argued with him even, but I was the one that brought this to his attention. So I did I was told, feeling my body sway as I still struggled to catch my breath.

"Remove your pants and underwear."

Once again, he sounded all business, and I followed instructions.

His chest rose visibly as he took a deep breath. "Put one foot up on the bed."

My balance was off, and he quickly stepped forward to offer me his shoulders as assistance in stabilizing myself. An odd feeling swept over me, perhaps I felt a bit awkward, but who wouldn't?

"Claire," he began, his voice almost a whisper, "Think of this as a doctor's visit." Though this did not comfort me I now had an idea of what he was going to do, and it was best that I wasn't comfortable.

For some reason my vision clouded with tears as his right hand disappeared from view, and I winced at the feel of one of his fingers entering me. As he pushed as far as he could I pursed my lips, never taking my eyes off of his. Then he inserted a second finger, adding to my discomfort, but I was the one that brought my concern to his attention, and he was giving me confirmation. What alarmed me was that he stayed there for a moment, unblinking, staring at me through his shades.

Then he shook his head and removed his fingers from me. "It's impossible." Pulling away from my hold, he returned to the bathroom, and I heard the faucet turn on again.

I could only sink down onto the bed, sitting there and awaiting his return.

When he reappeared he began speaking without prompting from me, his hands on his hips as he stopped just in front of me. "Your cervix is open; women who are not pregnant have no penetrable cervix. You also –from what I can tell- have a mucous plug. All of this is impossible because it would mean that you are very far into a pregnancy." Then he knelt down in from of me, taking my hands into his. "Claire you will deliver soon."

"We started having sex in February. You were my first I swear!"

His hands squeezed mine, and it was an act meant to hush me or tell me that he believed me.

"You said you couldn't get me pregnant." My voice was shaky, eyes filled to the brim, and my world was beginning to crash all around me. There was nothing to be said and he knew it. Sorry would do nothing for me, an explanation would offer just as much, and comfort could only last for as long as he could hold me. "Was it a lie?"

Taken aback, he released my hands. "What are you talking about?"

"You were supposed to be sterile!" Ignoring the fact that I was still half naked, I continued my rant.

Though I saw his desire to become defensive, he chose to maintain his usual calm, but he still stood up to display dominance. "As far as I knew I was."

"So there could be others?" The thought of other women in this same predicament made my skin crawl and my stomach turn in disgust. "Have you called up any of your exes to see if they've got a little Wesker?" More than anything I wanted to break down, sink to the floor, and assume the fetal position for at least five hours while I wept until I couldn't anymore. Despite wanting to do that, I knew that it wasn't the solution to this, and I'd look more of a brat if anything. "You don't have to deal with this Wesker… you don't understand." I finished pathetically.

"Al."

"What?"

Rather than elaborate he once again kneeled before me, this time not touching me as a show of respect for my personal space. Still hung up on him telling me to call him Al, I experienced a delay in registering what else he had to say. "I have no other children Claire. If I did I believe I would know. Though it may not comfort you much to hear this, I have to tell you that I made sure. This," he paused to place his hand on my stomach, "is the only child I've created."

I didn't know what to think, what to believe. I shouldn't have been pregnant in the first place, but he seemed to be taking it better than I was. This did not ease my nerves though as I couldn't help but wonder about what this meant for the future. What if in the future a man with his eyes came forward wanting to find his father? I was always sure I would never be in this situation, because I was sure that I would never end up pregnant, and I felt that after any affair with Albert Wesker, I'd never be with another man long after he was gone. This revelation was not only a game-changer for me but for him as well.

Still, there was an even bigger problem that I could tell he wanted to address at a later time, but later would have to be pretty immediate in this case. His eyes had managed to betray the tone of his voice despite his attempts to depict a sense of calm; he was just as worried about this accelerated gestation as I was.

"What are we going to do?" I was not speaking as a woman who was weighing her options on how to go about pregnancy; I was speaking as a woman that was concerned for my life. I appreciated his desire to keep the situation tranquil for my sake, but he and I both knew that this was an impossible scenario that could only point down a road with much strife paving the way.

"There's a facility. We need to get to Cheyenne and-" The sound of a cop knock stopped him mid-sentence, and I was about to ignore it.

"Claire open up!"

My eyes lost focus, staring right through Wesker. My heart dropped into my stomach which also tied itself into knots. Forever a wrench in his plans was Chris Redfield. For the first time ever I think I knew his frustration…

A/N: The abandonment of my stories was for a good reason: As of Sunday I am a college graduate. However, now I have to find another school to go to and figure out for sure what I'm going to go to school for next. Anyhow, I don't like how I wrote this and I may tweak this chapter when I have the chance but I've been working nonstop to make up for the days I've had to take off for my graduation and my boyfriend's upcoming graduation. So eventually I'll have some time! Until then review! I got some cereal to eat and a shift to endure. Also, if anyone knows anything about Qosmio laptops and those SLIGHTY older, discontinued models that you can still buy new only on Amazon let me know. Another reason to work so hard since I need to get another laptop lest this one finally die on me after 5 years.