A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for the continued support and all that. Ps, I can see you, silent readers. I appreciate you guys too, even if you don't leave a review or anything. Also, I wanted to pause and say that I am now operating a new Resident Evil roleplay, and we are recruiting. If you have any interest, message me lovelies. And enjoy this next installment.

Reality:

There is no feeling quite the same as waking up from a bliss-induced sleep. When my eyelids flutter open, there is this feeling of great peace that washes over me. It feels like I've been without sleep for ages, and I finally managed to catch up on all of it. There is a slight smirk tugging at my lips, and the sun is filtering in the window. And there is a softly sleeping form with her hair all strewn across my chest, her little breaths teasing my neck.

Hang on.

There's a girl. Sleeping on top of me. I glance down and see Claire, her head resting on the crook of my shoulder as she sleeps. For a moment, it's the most beautiful sight I have ever seen, this girl so totally at ease even though her naked form is all entangled with a total stranger.

Hang on.

There's a girl, and not just any girl, but it has to be Claire Redfield. And she's sleeping on my chest, and we're both naked, and…oh dear God, what have I done?

A pang of anxiety ringing in my chest, I scoot away from her, and in doing so manage to fall right off the edge of the bed. A low grunt escapes my throat as I hit the carpet with a thud. Claire doesn't even move, doesn't even shift positions in the bed.

I begin looking around for my clothes, which have somehow wound up in every corner of the bedroom. It's a miracle I haven't started hyperventilating yet, as the reality of the situation sets in. I slept with Claire Redfield. Who was incredibly intoxicated. Whose brother works for me. To boot, I didn't get shit done for either of my jobs. I scramble to pull my pants on and start buttoning my shirt back up.

In the process, my hand collides with the lamp on the nightstand, which goes crashing onto the floor. I literally cringe at the noise; I swear it's the loudest sound I've ever heard in my life. But Claire is still sleeping soundly, and after a few prolonged seconds I allow myself to breathe once again.

Until I hear the footsteps padding down the hall. "Claire?" Knock knock. "Claire, everything okay in there?"

Well, shit. Chris is knocking on the door, and my shirt is half undone, and Claire's bare back is exposed amidst the tangled sheets of her bed. This does not bode well for me.

In a moment of utter desperation, I rush over to the window, fumbling with the locks and pushing it up. The scraping sounds seem ten times louder to me than they probably are.

"Claire?" Chris calls again. I hoist a leg over the window sill and get ready to jump down. Just as I hit the ground, I hear the door open, followed by a girlish scream.

"Chris, what the hell?! Get out!" That's Claire. I can just imagine her, clutching her blankets to her body as she glares at her brother. I remain pressed against the house, hoping that no one passes by, because I cant imagine this looks particularly normal. I finish buttoning up my shirt, straining to hear what is happening in the room above me.

"Sorry, Claire," Chris is saying, a bit of embarrassment in the words. "I just…heard a noise and wanted to make sure it wasn't a break in."

Claire hasn't said anything else though. I feel something building in my chest, something that feels oddly like guilt. I ignore it as best I can.

Before I can make another move, my phone is suddenly going off in my pocket. Cursing under my breath, I fish it out and flip it open. "Wesker," I growl into the receiver.

"Al, I have some amazing news!" A cheerful voice spills forth from the other line. I recognize it immediately as none other than William Birkin, my research partner at the Umbrella labs. There is an undeniable giddiness in his words, and I feel my heart skip a beat. Amazing news from Birkin could only mean one thing, and that was a breakthrough with the study.

"What is it?" I demand. I have started walking across the street to the place where my car is, fighting off the urge to look back, look up, see if perhaps Claire was watching me go.

"Sherry has learned how to tie her shoes!" Birkin chirps. It takes everything in me not to throw the phone down onto the concrete and shatter it. That is his amazing news? That his daughter is beginning to function as a normal human being?

"Congratulations," I drawl, in the most sarcastic tone possible. I have got bigger problems and things on my mind than the weekly update on his daughter's growth. Still, Birkin is my best friend, I suppose, and I should at least be somewhat supportive of him. He is almost as ambitious as myself and is still able to balance a family life in there. Impressive, really.

Perhaps I'm just jealous.

When I reach my car, I dig for my keys and unlock the door. "Why weren't you at the lab last night, Al?" William asks then, as I am climbing into the driver's seat. I should have known this was coming. It's the reality of my life, of my precarious world that I must work so hard to keep together. Everyone expects everything from me.

"I got caught up in some business at the precinct," I reply with ease, pushing the key into the ignition and flipping it over. It isn't entirely a lie. I just left out the majority of the details.

William is silent for a few moments, which I use to pull out a cigarette and light it up. "Well, I'll see you tonight," he replies at last. I guess that's the closest thing to goodbye I am going to get, for a moment later the line goes dead. In normal circumstance, I would probably be upset that he hung up on me, but in the moment I am happy. I need to hurry home so that I can shower and change, before the routine of my life begins all over again.

It's the reality of it all. Albert Wesker cannot catch a break.

As I switch the car into drive, I risk one last glance up at Claire's window. I am not expecting to see her there, her thin form silhouetted in the window frame, gripping the woodwork as her blue eyes stare down at me. I can almost see them glowing from all the way down here, searing into me with a thousand questions and demands.

I tear my gaze away from her and begin to drive, hoping I will able to push this whole ordeal from my memory. I have work to get done. I have obligations, jobs to do, people depending on me.

Claire Redfield, no matter how wistfully breathtaking she may look in that moment, does not fit into the equation.