Disclaimer: I do not own RE.


Hello, all! Sorry for the later update, I've been pretty busy these past few weeks but I'll try to make this chap as thick as possible.


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Chapter 4: Grisly

"Two bodies were found mutilated on the edge of Pennington Woods early this morning. The two victims were thought to be morning joggers that had run into some kind of animal. Wildlife specialists and police have been combing the area for any sort of wild dog, perhaps wolves."

Claire snatched up the remote and turned up the volume on the television, the story catching her interest.

"We haven't yet been able to determine who or what had caused this however, we are looking for any possible explanation. We don't want to jump to conclusion and say that it's an animal but rather, we want to explore each opportunity at hand. This could very well be the work of a cult or gang."

Claire's face twisted into that confusion, she had a very odd feeling about this. She wondered if Wesker was assigned this case so that she could ask him about it later. She decided to listen further on the story.

"Wildlife specialist Doug Becker says that the wounds on the victims look as though they could be caused by dogs or wolves however, a post-mortem investigation will have to be conducted. More on this incident will be revealed once new evidence is brought to light…"

Not in any way, shape, or form, did Claire like the sound of this. It was oddly suspicious to her. Raccoon was a mountain-ridged town so they had plenty of wolves and bears, however, no one had ever reported being attacked. Animals didn't attack unless they felt threatened and Claire had a feeling that those two joggers were most likely minding their own business.

Feeling a horrible sensation in her gut, she grabbed the keys to her Jeep and decided to head down to the station. As she was driving, she saw people with dogs walking down the street and wondered to herself how on earth an animal like that could potentially do something so bloody. The station was only ten minutes from Wesker's house and when she pulled up, the street was clogged with news vans, police cars, and what looked to be protesters. She parked in the employee parking lot and stepped out of the car, hearing the roar and bustle of the mass amounts of people outside of the station. News vans were open and broadcasting live, reporters blabbing into a camera, words skewed from the constant noise. As she got closer to the front doors, protesters were being shoved back by officers.

They waved around signs with bible verses painted on them, something about the devil, Claire was sure. She heard them chant…

"The Devil is among us! The Devil has begun his harvest!"

Their words that rang out were eerie, speaking for the heavens. She felt as though the earth spun in slow motion, every movement felt like she was walking underwater. Slow and languid, ears ringing with the cacophony of sounds that crashed down upon her.

"The Devil is among us! The Devil has begun his harvest!"

The coolness of the station washed over her and pulled her from the stellar-like trance she was in from outside and it was nearly as busy as it was in here. She nodded at the receptionist who hated her anyways. Something about jealously and Wesker.

Making her way upstairs to where the S.T.A.R.S. offices were, she could still hear those bible-thumping protesters outside. Simply because the word 'cult' was uttered on the local news, apparently gave them the right to flap their gums about God outside of the station.

She walked into the Alpha office and saw everyone either on the phone or scrawling down reports. It was noisy with the sounds of typing, talking, and phone lines ringing. Chris looked back and almost knew exactly why she was here. He gave her a nod towards Wesker's closed door and went back to his work.

Claire marched down the row and didn't even bother to knock. Closing the door behind her, she managed to shut out some of the noise. Wesker's office was quiet and she sighed heavily, leaning up against the door. He was on the phone, barking words to whomever was on the other line. His hand was gripped tightly around the handle and his other was quickly writing something down on a pad of paper. She saw a vein on his forehead raise from under his pale skin and she knew that he was thoroughly frustrated with the situation.

"What do you mean you don't know?" He hissed into the phone.

Claire assumed he was talking to the BSU and their progress on the two bodies. She watched him run a hand over his face and sigh.

"Put Beverly on the phone." Wesker growled.

His unshaded blue eyes flicked up to glance at Claire but he went back to his conversation.

"I don't care about the DNA under the nails unless it's the killers blood and unless you have some solid evidence, don't call me, Bennett. Tell Cruz and Dixon to quit slacking and find out what the hell we're dealing with." He slammed the phone down and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

"Albert…" Claire voiced quietly. "Is everything ok?"

"What are you doing here?" He asked solidly. He seemed uninterested in what she had to say.

"I just wanted to make sure you were ok."

Wesker shook his head again. "I'm fine, Claire but I have a lot of work to do. I have two dead joggers in the basement and I need to figure out what killed them."

"I'm sorry…" Claire muttered. "I just wanted to see you, make sure you were ok. I didn't know Irons gave you this one, otherwise I wouldn't've come."

"I'll be home later, Dearheart but just promise me you wont go snooping? There's nothing to see but two ripped up corpses."

She nodded and exited the office, the team eying her on the way out, wondered what she needed with the captain. No one said a word when the door was shut and she was gone.

"She alright, Chris?" Barry asked from his desk.

"I don't know, Bear. She's seemed kinda edgy lately. Don't know if it's cause Wesker or if it's somethin' else."

XXXXX

It was late. Almost one in the morning and Claire was still wide awake. A few cups of coffee later and Wesker's words in the back of her mind didn't help her cause. She did some poking around online but the information was just as scarce. She curled further into the bed, empty in the dark. Something was chewing at her, something that she didn't like one bit. Claire never doubted her gut and her gut was telling her that there was something all wrong with this whole thing. It was terrifying. She slaved over the computer for hours, reading on wolf attacks, dog attacks, even bear attacks but everything came up practically inconclusive. Wolves rarely attacked humans and when they did, they didn't usually kill them. Mutilate them, to be more specific. Dogs had a poor survival rate outside of domestication, for they didn't hunt like their native cousin. Bears, on the other hand, were very rare around Raccoon, maybe three or four sightings every year and they seemingly didn't stick around this area.

So what was this thing that tore two full-grown humans to shreds?

Claire heard the front door open and could hear Wesker toss his keys into the little basket on the table by the door. His boots fell to the floor heavily, steps lagging as though he was exhausted, Claire was sure he was. Hearing his ascend the staircase, she leaned over to turn the lamp on.

He stood in the threshold, gazing at her like he hadn't seen her in years.

"I'm sorry for being so rude this morning." He said softly. "I was frustrated."

Claire shook her head. "It's ok. I understand."

"I know you do." He came to the side of the bed and sat down, bending over to unlace his boots.

"Did you find anything?" Claire asked as she sat up against the headboard.

Wesker shook his head and sighed deeply. "No, nothing. BSU said that the most likely cause right now is a wolf… something with teeth and claws." He pushed his boots away and began unbuttoning his navy blue shirt. "Knife wounds are easy to identify. They're concise and clean… these aren't. These are ragged and crude."

Throwing his shirt on the floor, he pulled his white t-shirt from his back like it was another layer of skin. Claire admired his back for a moment, while he was still turned away from her. There were small scars that speckled the flesh there, whiter than the rest of his skin and raised. He said once that they were scars from when he was a child, getting into fights in the schoolyard. He had plenty of scars that Claire constantly found herself inspecting. Sometimes she would look a little closer and see one that she hadn't before. He did, however, have a very noticeable one on his face. It was a rough scar and rather than raising itself from his skin, it sunk like a shallow and permanent cut. It set itself just under his hairline on his forehead, a few inches long and ran horizontally where it extended slightly behind his ear. That one was Claire's favorite. He found it childish that she had staked her claim on her 'favorite' scar but secretly, he found it oddly heartwarming. Wesker, however, would never be too fond of that one.

He had told her that it was from his father. He had gotten drunk one night and started beating his mother. Wesker, who was fourteen at the time, stepped between them, threatening his father. Obviously much smaller, he simply hit him upside the head with a bottle of whisky.

Claire reached out and placed her hand on Wesker's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. His muscles reacted to her touch and she could feel them coil under her skin. He was powerful, almost like a machine and all that power was halted by a simple touch. Wesker eased himself into the bed, right next to Claire. His rein. She pushed back his loose hair and ran her fingers lightly over that scar. Wesker sighed contently, closing his tired eyes and he wrapped one arm around Claire's waist, pulling her against him. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, placing a kiss there.

"I love you…" She muttered.

XXXXX

Claire woke up alone. She sighed and rolled over to check the digital clock on the bedside table.

8:46 AM

Her loneliness didn't last long when her nose was assaulted by the heavenly and homely smell of frying bacon. She smiled to herself and got out of bed. She dug around in the closet for a moment before pulling out one of Wesker's RPD t-shirts. Throwing it over herself, she tousled her untied hair and pushed the waves of red away from her faec. Padding down the stairs and into the kitchen, she was greeted with a shirtless Wesker, staring intently into the frying pan. He looked up when he heard her and his face changed almost instantly from stoic and bacon-hating, to admiration.

"You're awake." He greeted with a small smile.

Claire smiled widely and sat at the table. "So are you." Her blue eyes wandered to the pan where the bacon was sizzling and then to the plate of waffles in front of her. "And making breakfast."

Wesker grinned and waved the spatula around lightly. "Well I am no Harald Wohlfahrt, but I'm capable of frying some bacon."

"I don't even know who that is." Claire said with a laugh.

Wesker poked at the meat and smiled to himself. "He was a famous German chef."

The pan popped loudly, grease flying out and striking Wesker in the abdomen. He winced and closed in eyes in frustration. "Or not." He muttered.

Claire laughed loudly and made a sarcastic pouty face at him as he inspected his burn. He scooped the bacon onto another plate and placed it next to the waffles.

"Coffee, dearheart?"

"Please."

He poured hers just the way she liked it: two spoonfuls of sugar and a spoonful of creamer and he poured his just the way he liked it: black. Taking his seat across from her, she had already helped herself to two of the waffles and some bacon. The sun filtered in through a window, dust floating around absently, a melancholy yet lovely scene and Wesker silently admired her. The way her red hair absorbed the sun like the petals of a rose, blue eyes swimming like the ocean, and pale skin like alabaster sands. She was beautiful.

"What?" Claire blurted, crossing her arms and smiling.

"What?" Wesker repeated sarcastically, mimicking her movements.

Claire eyed him, smile tugging at her perfect lips. "You're staring at me."

Wesker shook his head. "I have not the slightest idea of what you're referring to, dearheart."

Claire rolled her eyes and returned to her waffles, laughing to herself. They ate in a peaceful morning silence together, the sounds of birds, cars, and families playing for a perfect Saturday morning. And as she sat there, eating in silence, she wondered what they looked like to everyone else on Harbor Run Avenue. The neighborhood was clean and cozy, something she thought odd of Wesker. However, with his current ruse now revealed to her, it made sense to choose something inconspicuous. Most of the houses were filled with families who had younger children and Claire had met them all, making fast friends with the parents and the kids themselves. Wesker, on the other hand, made small talk if he was forced to get the mail or take out the trash. They were an 'odd' couple, or at least that's what Claire thought. However, no one on the street dared to question Wesker seeing as he was an officer.

As for Claire, she was a college student who, ironically, wasn't attending college this semester and had a job at a diner in town. She couldn't complain though, Wesker took care of her and she thanked her lucky stars for that. When she decided to move in, Chris was hesitant, claiming that they were moving too fast, but Claire insisted on it, telling him that it was just a way for Chris to finally have some privacy. The older Redfield hated the idea of his sister and his captain period. He wasn't going to tell Claire what she could and couldn't do, she was an adult. But it was his job, as an older brother, to look out for her and make sure she was making the right choices. He was secretly thankful that she landed Wesker, seeing as though he was a responsible man who handled himself very well, but the idea of his baby sister hunkering down with Wesker made him shudder on occasion. Just another reason to hate Wesker he supposed.

XXXXX

Over the course of the next few days, RPD would find three more bodies mangled in the same fashion as the others. It was beginning to get out of hand for the town and even worse for the officers assigned the duty. Wesker was never home. He woke up at 5 AM, drank some coffee, and headed to the station where he would slave over dead bodies, paperwork, and phone calls until 10 PM. From there, his sleep-deprived self would drive thirty minutes out of town to the lab where he would work until 3 AM, drive thirty minutes back and accomplish two hours of sleep on the couch in his clothes before it was rinse and repeat. Claire begged him to take a night off at the lab so he could get sleep but he claimed he was too busy on both ends to fulfill her request.

Wesker ran a hand over his tired and bloodshot eyes and he took a generous gulp from his coffee. William would call him at his scheduled time, five in the evening everyday to fill him in and confirm if he were coming to the labs later in the night. And the old saying goes, speak of the devil and he shall appear, the phone rang.

"Hey, Al, it's Will."

Wesker sighed. "I know." He deadpanned. "It's called caller ID."

William chuckled at his friends dry sense of humor. "Yeah, yeah. So how's it goin' at the station?"

"Terrible, Will. Absolutely terrible. I have three more bodies and no sleep. I'm running off two hours of sleep every night, if that, and I can hardly keep my eyes open."

"Sounds like you need a night off." William joked.

"I can't, you know that I can't leave you there all night." He leaned back in his chair, slouching as he did so, too tired to be concerned with his posture.

"I got everything under control, Al. I'm not a boy scout for gods sake."

Wesker sighed deeply again. "I am more concerned with my punishment for taking a night off."

"Look, I'll tell Spencer that you need this one cause you're taking a load at the station. I'll make sure he understands you need sleep to preform otherwise you might keel over in the break room."

"No," Wesker protested. "I'll be there tonight, don't worry about that."

"No you wont be. I'm not gonna let you kill yourself cause you're working yourself too hard." His friends voice was stern, concern laced through it. "Go home tonight, see Claire, get some sleep ok?"

Wesker was silent for a moment, mostly from exhaustion but the other from the fact that this man truly cared for him. William was a long time friend that Wesker hoped he could keep. They met when Wesker was nineteen and William was seventeen, fresh out of college and were being thrust into a multimillion dollar corporation all because they knew what they were doing with deadly pathogens. At first, it was dog-eat-dog and Wesker was the alpha. He was older and more experienced. He was cold and calculating, hardly the social type. William, on the other hand, was a frail and coy individual. He was scared shitless when they first met, thoroughly convinced that Albert Wesker was the embodiment of cruelness. However, as the months went by, the two young men had spent almost every hour of every day with each other and it began to result in friendly competition to see who could create or destroy faster. Eventually, they were one in the same. Arguing turned into witty and playful banter, scrutiny turned into suggestion, and competition turned into teamwork.

"Ok." Wesker muttered.

"Thank you." William said. "I'll only call you if we have an emergency."

Wesker chuckled lightly, "Please don't have an emergency."

XXXXX

William hung up the phone and sighed heavily. He was lying right through his teeth and it felt wrong… so, so wrong. He knew where these bodies were coming from, he knew what was causing them. He released them. William felt his gut turn in disgust just thinking about lying, more so, lying to his best friend. The only man that he could trust and he let words grind right between his bleached teeth.

The intercom buzzed, signaling William to make his way to Spencer's office by request and as he rose from his chair, he could feel the heavy burden he had yet to rid himself of. The halls were empty, dimly lit, and even though there were no windows, William could tell that it was around dusk. His shoes squeaked against the linoleum floor as he counted his steps towards Spencer's office. The door slid open quickly, revealing Spencer who stood with his back to the younger man, gazing out the large window that overlooked the woods below.

"You called, sir." William spoke in a low tone.

Spencer turned to face his employee, a wicked smile plastered to his withering face. "Yes, my boy!" He piqued. "Come in, sit down."

William sat down as he was told, Spencer following his actions. He eased into his chair and steeped his fingers together.

"I wish to speak to you about Albert." Spencer chimed.

William squirmed a little in his chair. "What… what about Albert?" He asked quietly.

"It has come to my attention that he has been investigating the killings…" His voice was calm however, William could sense his urgency.

"He's been assigned by Irons, yes."

Spencer's hand clenched into a fist. "That bloody idiot."

"I know we're supposed to keep this from him but… but it's his project too. He's slaving over those bodies at the station because we need a few sentences of test data? I just don't understand why he's not allowed to be apart of this." William looked at his hands in his lap and sighed. He never spoke against Spencer.

"Some details are better left to the few, William."

"I don't know how much longer we'll be able to keep this from him. He's smart, you know. A lot smarter than you might think…" Those last few words were muttered yet William had hoped Spencer heard. He got up from his seat as Spencer silently demised him with no answer. Before he could exit the threshold, Spencer chuckled in the dark of the office.

"Conspiracy, my dear boy." Spencer sounded. "A clever game."

XXXXX

Wesker did as he was told and wrapped things up at the office at ten exactly. He headed home, awaiting the look on Claire's face when she saw him for the first time in days. His car came to a stop in the driveway and he killed the engine. The lights were on inside but maybe she was asleep. He set his things down in the living room and flicked the lamps off, feeling an odd sensation of homesickness. He had been virtually absent here for the past four days and suddenly, this house felt more like a home than it ever did. It was a simple place, nothing too extravagant but you couldn't get too fancy in Raccoon. It was a quaint two-story home with three bedrooms upstairs, a moderately sized living room and kitchen, and a basement where Wesker kept boxes of memories, tools, and before Claire moved in, the occasional body. Before she was here, it was empty, there wasn't a welcoming feeling that tacked itself onto it. When she did move in, the house became a home. She tended to the garden out front, cooked dinner, and brought an aura with here that fell about the home. Her motorcycle sat outside, the children marveled at her when it roared to life and she would offer rides around the block, if it was ok with the parents of course. To the neighbors, they were just Albert and Claire, that cute couple down the road. They knew he was a cop and they knew that she worked at the local diner. However, what went on behind that red wooden door was a heated and passionate relationship that could be coveted more than gold.

Making his way up the stairs, their door was cracked and he saw her there, curled up in the blankets and pillows. He smiled to himself, crossing the room to turn off the lamp and remove his clothes. He sat on the edge of the bed, unlacing his boots and tossing aside as quietly as he could. Every piece of clothing was removed until he was clad only in his briefs, he lifted the sheets and slid beneath them, welcoming the coolness of the fabric. Claire stirred and turned over, blue eyes opening to him.

"You're home." She said quietly.

Wesker smiled. "I took the night off at the lab, figured I could use the rest."

"You've been running on two hours every night, Albert." She said with a lazy smile. "I think rest is an understatement."

Wesker chuckled in the dark, pulling Claire into his chest as he exhaled contently.

"Goodnight, Dearheart."

"Goodnight, Albert."

A/N: i am so tired i have to stop this chapter right now and sleep with them.