Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.
Ok, so I want to say one thing up front here: For all of you who are reading And Then There Were None, I'm running out of plot. I don't know what to write anymore! If someone could please help me out! It hasn't been updated in so fucking long and I hate making you guys wait. So if someone would like to help me through this bullshit, let me know.
Elevenzombies: Thank you for the love. Wesker's mind is hard to write considering that fact that… well that its Wesker lol.
Bearybeary: I STILL have no idea what you're getting at here. And no, Wesker is not a predator… he's just a man who never knows what he's up to.
Naoko Suki: It is a huge part of him, I agree with you on that! It's my job to write a good Wesker otherwise, amazing people such as yourself wouldn't read!
MaleficMistress: Wesker! Get your ass moving! Haha, I agree! Sometimes, Wesker needs to have something slip his mind and I guess the thought of him being sterile was one of those things! Yes, I do like my little OC Conan and no joke, I kind see him Conan O'Brian-ish. Lol. Yes, the 'cravings' they are something that will pop up again. And I used sheep because the threat of people he faced to them. The more the crave got worse, the more people would end up dead so better sheep than people right? Lol.
Claire was putting the laundry away while her daughter Kaya sat on the dryer, swinging her bare feet back and forth. She smiled brightly towards her mother, her blue eyes shining. Claire smiled wickedly and shook her head, shutting the washer; she leaned against the wall eyeing her daughter suspiciously. "What do you want, Kaya?"
The girl pointed at herself and looked around as if her mother was asking an imaginary friend. "Me?" She asked sarcastically.
Claire laughed and grabbed her shoulders giving her a light shake. "Yes you!"
Kaya bit down on her bottom lip and smiled. "Nothing."
Claire swung her daughter into her arms and carried her into the living room, setting her down on the couch. "Oh I think you want something and you are gonna tell me."
Kaya shook her head. "Not this time, mommy. You aren't getting anything from me!"
Claire attacked her daughter's stomach, tickling was the best way to get the answers from her children. It reminded her of how she got answers from Wesker… demanding. Claire inwardly laughed as her daughter giggled herself to death. Wesker always denied Claire's claims until she got it from him by pleading in a child-like manner.
"Ok! Mommy! Ok!" The girl guarded her belly with a pillow, her laughter stopping. "I wanna go with you to Boston!"
Claire folded her arm. "No way, kiddo. Me and Patrick have important things to do. Your brother needs to see an old friend of ours. He can help him through his chaos."
"But, mom! It's unfair! Pat gets to go!"
"It won't be as fun for him as you think. We're going to a therapist. Patrick needs some emotional help."
"Just because he misses dad more…" She mumbled under her breath.
Claire caught that and crossed her arms even tighter, "No… no that's not why, Kaya." She sat down next to her daughter. "Patrick doesn't understand like you do. That makes you the lucky one. He thinks daddy will never come home."
"He will come home, mom!" Kaya beamed happily.
Claire inwardly sighed. "Yeah… he will." She said quietly. "But your brother just needs someone to help him right now. It's nothing more than a few days visit and then we'll be home before you know it. Besides, you get to stay with Uncle Chris and Aunt Jill."
The girl nodded understandingly. "Ok… but, mom?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"Will I get to see daddy before Uncle Chris catches him?"
"Who told you that?" Claire asked harshly.
"Well… Chris told me."
"What did he say to you, Kaya?" Her mother demanded.
"He said that… he was gonna catch daddy one day. And when he did…" Kaya began to tear up. "The world would be happy and no one would have to be scared anymore."
"Uncle Chris is lying to you, Kaya. Your father is not a bad man. Don't listen to him when he talks about daddy ok?"
She nodded and accepted her mothers hug. "Why does Uncle Chris hate daddy?"
"You'll understand when you're older, honey."
The sound of footsteps grabbed both if the girl's attentions. Patrick sulked down the staircase, looking in their direction. "Mom?" He asked quietly.
"Yeah, Pat? What's up, baby?"
"I wanna go to the park."
Claire was confused for a moment but then nodded, getting off of the couch. "Ah ok. Kaya, do you wanna come?"
The girl shook her head. "No, I'll let you and Pat talk."
Claire was calm with leaving her at the house, the park was across the street and they would only be gone for a few minutes. Knowing Patrick, he would just want to cry and let no one see except his mother. Claire opened the door; a whip of air swished her red locks. "Come on, hun."
He walked silently beside her, looking ahead of him and never anywhere else. They reached the park and took a seat on bench; Patrick sighed and kicked a stone with his shoes. "What's on your mind?" Claire asked.
"Dad," the boy replied bluntly. "I found this book on the shelf in the living room." Patrick handed her a tattered copy of The Great Gatsby.
Wesker's favorite book.
It was sort of ironic, a book about lost love yet, a book about losing everything you had just to gain one single thing. In the end, that one thing that you had gained, you always had. It was also Wesker's way of saying he was lost. Gatsby and Wesker were on the same endless path to glory but many things would stall them.
War.
Death.
Passion.
When the curtains closed, Wesker and Gatsby were two sides of the same coin. Lost souls searching for something they would never find.
Patrick opened the front cover and pointed to faded black ink that read:
To: Albert
From: Mom
One day, when you are down, when the world has nothing more for you, you may find this book as your savior. The road you are on will never end; it will only expand before your very eyes. Never give up, my son. I love you more than anything in this world, life is short, enjoy it with this book.
"It looks old." Patrick chimed.
Claire held the book carefully, tears welling up in her eyes. "It is. This was your father's favorite book. He found so many things inside it… yet, I think it drove him away."
"I read it. Gatsby was a man with everything… but nothing at all."
"That was your dad."
"He was stopped by fate and love."
"Just like your dad."
"Mom… the world makes no sense!" The boy laughed a little.
Claire hugged him. "I know, baby. But, your father always told me that nothing ever has to."
He looked up her with hazel eyes. "Why?"
"It'll just run its course."
"Is that what dad said?"
Claire hugged her son tighter, "Something like that."
XXXXX
Claire was in bed that night, late for that matter. It was 1 AM… wonderful.
She put the twins in bed at nine, they had school tomorrow. She lay in her King Sized bed, the right side empty.
Again.
It was something that she would do every night… turn over to see if he was there. Occupying the lonely spot in her bed and in her heart, one sliver of comfort was needed to fall asleep and most nights; it was thoughts of her dear Albert Wesker. The man who showed her life was more than just living; it was living like you had nothing else to live for. If you were to die that very day, would you be satisfied with what you had done? He strived to make everyday they had the best, and sometimes it wouldn't work, for duty would call, yet he would always end up on the right side of that bed. Gazing at her with those hungry, burning eyes, lusting for her every second that precariously ticked by. Work would bring out the stress in him and Claire was the only one that could purge that stress.
Nocturnal activities would result in late mornings and quite a few sore muscles. It made Claire smile widely just thinking about it, the spot in her heart still filled by him no matter how many years would pass. He could be gone forever, but that place in her heart would never relent for another. After it was all over, after Claire realized he was gone, she took heed to what he had said: Do not come looking for me.
She didn't.
Claire respected Wesker as he did her. But the sadness that brewed compelled her many times to disobey what he had asked and fucking track him down. But, like she had promised herself, she never did and therefore never got the chance. There were nights when the phone would ring late, later than ten. She would hope it was him, for he always had a habit of staying up late. But it would just be the office, making a late night cancel for the next day's conference.
Claire looked at her clock… 1:30.
She groaned and turned off the TV, getting some sleep is all she needed. Her and Patrick were leaving for Boston on Wednesday, so he needed the rest just as much as she did.
Soon, the moon illuminated her room and the warmth of night crept into her sheets, lulling her asleep with the quaint sound of tree frogs and crickets.
Darkness with a smile.
The sound of running water washed over Claire's senses, she was naked, a cream colored sheet covered her flawless body, and the bed was rid of its pillows and comforter. She wrapped the sheet around her in a dress-like fashion, padding into the bathroom, where the source of the water was. The door was cracked and she peered in to see Wesker with his back facing her. He was saying something under his breath, it seemed strained.
"Albert?" Claire called quietly. His head whipped around, his red eyes were blazing furiously, and his canine teeth were bared slightly. His shirt was missing; it seemed to be on the floor ripped to shreds.
"My Dearheart…" He said cynically. "You've come to see what I have in store for you, beautiful."
"What are you talking about?" Claire asked, taking a step forward when her mind screamed at her to take a step backward.
Wesker beckoned her with his slender index finger. "Come, Dearheart. I don't bite."
The bathroom was small, the shower was draped in a curtain and the only light was from the moon outside. Wesker's eyes illuminated, they were trained on Claire, his handsome chiseled face shadowed by the darkness. He grabbed her wrists tightly, and turned her to the mirror, he wrapped his steel arms around her waist, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck. She welcomed the small gesture and kissed his cheek. "Claire, you know I love you." He spoke into her ear, his thin lips nipping her skin. "But you know I have to kill you." He grabbed a fistful of her hair and covered her throat with his other hand; she struggled against him but to no avail. He brought her head back to look up at him, he kissed her forehead and tears started to fall from her blue hues. Her eyes widened as his grip became stronger, iron clamping down on soft flesh. His eyes were soft, like he had regretted his action. Her lids began to close, her lips parting, death was like a shroud that washed over her. Her limp body hung in his arms, his fatal vice was loosened, and he bent down her like they were dancing. "Forgive… me… Claire."
Her nightmare was abruptly stopped by the sound of her alarm clock wailing at 6 AM. Warm tears stung her face and pillow, the reality was frightening, it would have been like her dream if she hadn't exercised his demons. Wesker was an animal, he was set like a trap, waiting to snap when you least expect it to. The nightmare clung to her thoughts; she cuddled herself in the blankets, staring at that empty right side of the bed. She longed for him; harsh dreams such as those could not keep Claire from thinking of him. He was a ghost that would come haunt her in her most venerable state.
Sleep.
His very wake tumbled short of them, even though all was lost.
Claire would stay in bed, watch the sun rise. The very thought of how Wesker would be if Claire hadn't helped him… even though he told her not to. He stated simply that he needed no one; therefore, he didn't need Claire. But after a mull and a feeling in his very heart…
Albert Wesker found himself needing Claire Redfield more than he needed air to breathe.
A/N: I question myself as to why I write this chapter to the Scream 4 soundtrack and Skrillex.