Disclaimer: The characters in the video game series, book series, movie series, or any other conceivable series under the title of "Resident Evil" do not belong to me. Nor do any songs I happen to use in the writing of this story. All rights to Resident Evil belong to Capcom and the songs belong to the respective artists. I am merely a fan, so enjoy.

A/N: As a warning I figured I would write this firsthand. There is quite a bit of fluff in this chapter as sort of a prelude to the dark stuff that will follow in the next chapter, so if you don't like the fluffy goodness-which you know you do, dun lie!-then I suppose you can skip those parts. I'll just write it here since I am already up here lol, Vobis means "you" or "for you" either or..Latin is tricky..also since I left it out, Mutare means "change" so sorry about that.

...

Vas Domus

VII

Vobis

...

The mall was incredibly busy this time of year, people happily strolling through stores and shops with friends and family looking for the perfect gifts to express their love and adoration. This cheer was infectious and Claire soon couldn't prevent the smile that had settled on her face. It had been nearly four months since she had decided to stay with Wesker that night after he had rescued her, and she was truly the happiest she had been in a long time. It had been somewhat difficult for the longest time to warm up to him but after that night they had that wonderful dinner together they began to spend more time with eachother. She would cook him dinner every night and every night he would her to join him and they would talk about anything they could. She'd ask him about work, and even though the answers he gave were vague most times they were never cold or foreboding. Claire bounced from store to store, humming the merry Christmas tune that was being played on the loud speaker throughout the shopping mall. The smell of cinnamon and apples and pine filled the shops and the warm air made her feel cozy and safe. There were two reasons why she was at the mall on this cold Tuesday; the first was to buy Wesker a gift for Christmas but the other was to test out the early Christmas gift he had surprised her with a few days before.

The fireplace crackled happily and she was settled in the large leather armchair in the living room. She was pleased that Wesker had let her use it, and she had certainly been right about her assumption that it brought a certain hominess to their house.

Their house.

She repeated the words in her head, a warmth flooding her heart in a way that she found she didn't dislike. A smile spread across her face and she returned her attentions to the book in her lap. All she could think about was him though and even though he had never been flirtatious or had come on to her it was obvious that there was an attraction there. Neither of them had acted on it brushing it aside as if it was all a fluke, but Claire had to wonder if it really was there or if she had been imagining it.

There were signs sure, certain notions that could be percieved as attraction-small personal smiles and hand placements on the small of her back as he passed her in the hallway,the way his fingers lingered on hers longer than necessary when passing something to her-but that could all just be speculation.

He could see her as nothing but a friend or even just a girl he had been helping back up on her feet. Perhaps it was neither of those. Perhaps he felt regret for what he had done to her brother and his teammates and he felt that this way he could redeem himself.

She didn't like to think it was that though.

Whatever it was it revealed to her a side of him that she was sure many people hadn't ever seen, if anyone but her at all. The thought of Albert Wesker smiling over dinner with a friend and exchanging personal stories was sometimes mind blowing in itself, but it fit.

It fit so well that sometimes she had to remind herself of who he was and what he had done, the kind of person he had been in the past. When she did though, it was like it never mattered much even though it really should have. He had been responsible for hundreds of thousands and possibly millions of deaths and had he succeeded he could have-would have-destroyed the entire world. He had lead his own team, the people he had worked alongside and nearly lived with for years, into a mansion in order to collect battle data for the tyrant and ending many of their lives in the process. He had done horrible, terrible things, but she didn't like to think about it. She knew she was in serious denial but that couldn't have been him. This gentlemanly, kind man she knew now could never have been that cold and evil person he was then.

Denial thy name is Claire.

The sound of the front door opening alerted her that he was home from another business meeting early and she couldn't help the increased speed of her heart as she heard him remove his coat and shake the snow off of it. He entered the living room, and leaned against the archway that was erected above the two steps that led to the sitting area.

"How was work?" She asked, marking the page in her book and closing it succinctly. He always had her full attention whether he knew or it or even wanted it.

"It was just fine. Those idiots that run the place couldn't be more incompetent if they tried but all in all the transaction went well. How was your day?" His silky voice rose over the crackle of the fire and she found herself utterly pleased with the fact that he was actually interested in her day, however boring it may be.

"I cleaned the toilets and made cookies." She laughed and added, "Don't worry. I washed my hands first." Earning a small but genuine chuckle from her male counterpart.

"Cookies hm? Seems you're outdoing yourself, Claire."

"It was nothing. I just love the holiday season and I love to bake so it kind of works together. Would you like one?" She slid her legs off the side of the chair, her long ivory sweater and leggings contrasting nicely with the dark black of the leather upholstery. She truly loved that chair and had spent quite a bit time in it when he was away, and as much as it bothered her to admit it, it offered the best view of the front door.

"Perhaps in a moment. I have something I want to show you first." His long legs made short work of striding to her side. He walked behind her and her head looked up to see what he was up to. She stayed silent as he removed a thin black scarf from his pocket and tied it around her head, covering her eyes. Claire giggled like a child that was opening her very first birthday gift.

"What are you up to?" She asked but was silenced as his warm fingers unintentionally brushed the back of her neck, and a wave of electricity shot through her body at the feel of his touch. She decided that if a simple meaningless touch could make her feel that way then it had truly been too long since she had been with a man, or at least a man she actually wanted to be with.

"Now, now, you don't want to ruin the surprise do you, dear heart?" If her resolve wasn't already crumbling, it certainly was with the mention of the nickname that he had only used on very few occasions.

Before if he had called her that she would have wanted to rip his blonde head off and spit down his throat but now she could only wish that he would call her that more. It made her feel important. It made her feel as if she was special enough that he would dedicate a name just for her, even if he really hadn't.

He was bringing out feelings in her that made her frightened and exhilirated at the same time, and as he took her hand to lead her to her "surprise" she found herself holding onto him a little tighter than she meant to. He didn't seem to notice and continued on.

"Be careful for the steps here."

"Where are you taking me, sir?" She asked in a play-mocking sense and he let loose that warm chuckle that she was so fond of,"You'll see."

She laughed quietly and responded, "Well thanks to you, I can't see anything right now."

"Don't be so impatient Miss. Redfield. Patience is a virtue, dear."

"Alright, alright. Let's just get there quick before I fall and hurt myself. You know how clumsy I can be, Mr. Wesker." She played into his name game, but when he responded his voice seemed so close and her heart skipped more than a beat at his words.

"And I would catch you if you did." She wondered if he knew the implications of his words and decided that he couldn't possibly have or he probably wouldn't have said it in the first place. He didn't seem like the kind of man who was big on open displays of affection or anything of the sort.

'Not that he's attracted to you, Claire. He's just being courteous. Get a grip on yourself before you lose it.' A tiny voice echoed in her head and she outwardly sighed. Was it in disappointment? How far had she fallen when he was the one she wanted to be interested in her?

She shoved the thought away and held on to his hand as she heard him opening the front door.

She felt the biting cold on her exposed cheeks and the snowflakes falling in her hair. The night air was crisp and filled with anticipation and she was pleased that Christmas was right around the corner. She wondered quietly how he celebrated the holiday season and decided that he probably worked straight through it; he was very dedicated to his work, whatever that was.

She knew little about his current occupation but she knew that he was basically now an independent contractor who sold his goods to other big-wig companies. She could only fill in the blanks and assume that it was medical affiliated but she hoped against hope that he was making strange viruses in her lab below the house-she knew there was one there-and selling them off.

Maybe he sold cures for diseases? Perhaps he sold his efforts to help starving children in foreign countries? She liked that idea much better. Albert Wesker the philanthropist, she liked the sound of that and then realized that maybe her denial was more deep rooted than she thought.

But fantasy was so much nicer than reality and she had lived far too much reality for one lifetime; she deserved a little fluffy fantasy where everything was as she wanted it to be.

Leaving her hand cold and empty he let go of her and she couldn't stop the pout that settled.

"So, what exactly are you going to show me out here in the freezing snow?" Despite her words she had a broad grin on her face and seconds later his nimble fingers had undone the scarf and he let it fall around her neck.

Claire's eyes were wide as she viewed the sight before her. There in the open garage parked right next to his Mercedes was a brand new Jaguar XKR. It was decked out with a matte finish crimson red paint job and all leather interior. Claire's mouth fell open and she looked to him with nothing short of surprise in her eyes. He took her hand once more and pressed the keys to her palm.

"Y-You bought me a car. A-A Jaguar..You bought me a Jaguar." Her voice trembled and she had to fight back the tears that threatened to spill over.

"Merry Christmas, dear heart." His voice was warm, wrapping around her heart tighter than any blanket. She wanted to argue, to tell him that she certainly could not and would not accept a nearly hundred thousand dollar vehicle as a Christmas present and a card would have done just nicely, thank you very much.

But she was dumbstruck, so shocked with awe at what her brain was processing that all she did was fling her body towards him with tears in her eyes before she could stop herself and wrapped herself around him tightly. He seemed shocked stiffed for a moment but then let out one of his trademark chuckles and wrapped an arm around her, returning the hug.

"Thank you...thank you so much. Nothing I can ever do will be enough to show you how much I appreciate everything you've done for me." Her breath was warm in his ear and she squeezed him tighter, breathing in his scent of aftershave and what always reminded her of fresh linens mixed with what could only be described as him.

Her heart tugged a bit at the memory as she continued her search for a perfect gift; and that's when it hit her like a rock to the face.

What do you buy for the man who could have anything he wanted?

There really was nothing that could ever amount to a car, especially not a Jaguar-which after a few days of not touching it he had eagerly encouraged her to take for a drive, and that little kitty purred better than she had hoped-and she suddenly found herself at a loss of what to do.

She plopped down on the bench and took a sip of the latte she had bought herself at the little coffee kiosk upstairs, watching people pass by. A little girl was jumping excitedly gripping her father's coat and he smiled down to her warmly as he wrapped his arm around a woman who she could assume was his wife. As heartwarming as that scene was she couldn't help but feel a bit dismayed by it.

The only thing in her life that she had ever truly wanted was walking right in front of her, and she doubted that she would ever have it.

A family. A loving husband, beautiful children and the life for her kids that she didn't really get growing up. That was not to say that Chris hadn't tried his hardest and done his best at raising her when her parents had died in that terrible accident, but there were times when she had been incredibly lonely. Her brother had been the best he could be but he just couldn't replace a mother.

Warm wetness flowed down her face and she quickly swiped it away, not even realizing that she had started crying. She absolutely hated crying and especially in a public place but it seemed that crying had been all she was doing lately.

She watched as the little girl and her parents walked and decided to continue searching for a gift for Wesker.

A little shop in the corner nestled between an antique shop and a pretzel stand caught her eye and suddenly she was filled with excitement as she realized the perfect gift to get him.

...

"As much as I appreciate the offer, Mr. Anderson, I'm afraid I will have to decline." Wesker leaned back against his office chair and cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder, typing out some notes on his computer.

"This would be a huge event for you, Richardson. All of the biggest pharmaceutical companies will be there. Are you sure you can't cancel your plans?"

Wesker's eyes rolled as he feigned disappointment; there was no place he'd rather not be than at some silly convention in France having to deal with these people more than necessary. He wasn't their employee, he was merely the go-to man for information and some much needed products they couldn't acquire.

"I'm afraid not. It's been planned for months. I'd hate to let anybody down."

Anderson seemed disappointed but Wesker knew it was only because he wanted to gloat to the other fat, useless lumps of CEOs about how his man was the best man, or something ridiculous like that. He couldn't feel even an ounce of sympathy for this man, not that he would anyway.

"Well if you change your mind, the offer's on the table. I'll see you on Tuesday then."

"Of course, Mr. Anderson. Thank you. Goodbye." He dropped the receiver on the cradle and leaned further back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his handsome features. Claire had been gone for quite some time and he wondered what she was up to. He couldn't lie to himself and say that he wasn't worried but he made no move to track her down, even if his hand was tracing the phone with the anticipation to call her and find out.

He had been quite pleased with her reaction to her gift and days later she had asked him why he had bought a Jaguar instead of something cheaper. He asked himself the same question and still hadn't come up with a good conclusion as to why. He argued with himself that she needed a way to get out of the house every now and then but that still didn't explain the extravagance of the gift. He then came up with an idea that he felt best summed it up completely.

Albert Wesker didn't do cheap.

It was the perfect excuse-because that's all it really was, an excuse-but he suspected that he had wanted to get her something that accented her true beauty. She looked wonderful in that car, it's sleekness accentuating her own and smoothing out her own rough areas.

And maybe he liked the idea of her being in something that he had picked out for her.

He rubbed his temples, the way he was feeling confusing him to the point of anger almost. How had she managed to get so deeply under his skin without doing anything at all? It wasn't as if he didn't have women practically falling at his feet as most men with good looks, money and power did, but maybe that was the reason.

Claire hadn't stayed there with him because of his money, or because he was handsome and she wasn't all over him like some annoying bug that he couldn't get rid of. All she had ever done was open up to him and the things she did she never expected anything in return for them.

That was what made her different. That was what made her...

'Special?'

He shook his head trying to clear it from all the confusing thoughts that had been plaguing him lately. Being around her...feeling this way...it was making him vulnerable and it made him feel weak, made him wonder exactly who he was anymore.

The hum of an engine pulled up into the drive and he had to hold himself still to stop from going down the stairs to meet her. How much longer could he pretend he felt nothing for her until he did something stupid?

The sound of the door opening and closing caught his attention and her voice traveled up the stairs, "Wesker? Are you home?"

He stood stretching his legs and walked to the door.

"One minute. Just finishing up a report." He called down to her, and he could hear the sound of pots and pans banging around in the kitchen before she responded.

"Okay! Don't take too long, I have something I want to give you."

So that's where she'd been, he mused locking up his office and descending the long stairwell, crossing the large living room to get to the kitchen.

"Good evening, Claire. Did you have a nice time out?" He asked, removing the chicken from the freezer and setting it out to defrost; he knew she loved it when he helped her do things like that and despite his uncomfortable feelings about being too close to her he was having problems keeping his distance.

Damn Redfields and their way of getting under his skin.

"Oh yes! Very much, thank you. Would you mind getting me the celery from the fridge? Thanks." He handed her the stalks and she began chopping them, "I'm sorry I stayed out so long but I was having problems finding something. How was your day?" She was turned with her back to him and had abandoned her long red coat at the door, leaving her clad in a tight wrap top and black skinny jeans with knee high black boots. He fought back the urge to touch the skin that was exposed just above her shoulderblade and sat down at the table in the kitchen, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

It was in their best interests that they didn't pursue whatever it was between them, and sometimes he found himself wondering if it had been a mistake that she was living here with him in the first place. He kept his feelings in check for the most time but sometime he would slip.

He just couldn't let that happen; he didn't want her mixed up with him and in his own selfish way he knew that she would make him weak. He was already weak enough.

"Rather uneventful. That lousy Anderson invited me to some ridiculous convention in Paris the day after Christmas. As if I would actually go."

Claire turned her head to face him, her big blue eyes piercing as if staring directly into his soul, and he had to stand firm and not turn away from her gaze, "Why wouldn't you? Are you busy that day?" She turned back to her chopping and dinner preperations and he popped more aspirin, the headache forming behind his eyes was starting to bother him. He noticed lately that bright light had been affecting him the way it used to before and he had to urge to grab a pair of sunglasses from his room and throw them on.

He had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on but common sense had eliminated that idea from his head.

It simply wasn't viable. He turned his attention back to Claire who was now looking at him worriedly, "Are you okay, Wesker? You look like you don't feel well. If you want to lie down I can come get you when dinner is ready." Damn her, always being so unselfish and caring. Sometimes when he thought about her clearly giving nature it made him sick, but he wondered if that was because he felt guilty for hurting her for all those years or if it was his natural adversion to her kind.

"I'll be fine. Just a little headache is all."

Suddenly the kitchen grew very quiet and he noticed that she had stopped cutting vegetables, finally after a moment she spoke, her voice quiet and unsure.

"A headache that lasts all the time?"

His eyes widened a fraction of an inch. So she had noticed that. Not that he was surprised, she was very intuitive.

"It's nothing to worry about, I can assure you."

She was silent for a moment more but had dropped the subject thankfully, "So why won't you go to that convention?"

"I'd rather not go there and see all of those corporate big-wigs strutting around like they are the cock of the block. It's not something on my immediate agenda, plus I have work I need to get done here." He scoffed and she made a little 'oh' sound and continued to cut up the vegetables and chicken for a pot of homemade soup.

"So, what was it that you wanted to give me?" He asked and immediately her head popped up as if she had forgotten, she quickly tossed the ingredients into the pot and put it on the stove to simmer and cook and ran off into the living room. When she came back she held a plain black box in her hand and she held it out to him silently, her hand shaking a bit as if she were nervous.

"A gift? Claire, didn't I tell you that I didn't want anything?" He admonished but he knew it was unfair and the look in her eyes told him so; he had after all surprised her with such a huge present that it would be common courtesy to get him something. He took the box and opened it carefully, almost shocked at what was inside.

It was an exact replica of the Samurai Edge that he had been so attached to during his S.T.A.R.S days; the only things missing were the actual S.T.A.R.S adornments. Other than that though, it was nostalgically the same. He picked it up, feeling the weight in his hand and it almost sucked him into a reverie but her voice broke his train of thought.

"I hope you like it, I wasn't sure if I had gotten the specifications right from memory when I was telling the shop how I wanted it. It's not completely custom made but they had one that I had fitted properly. Chris told me once how you favored the Edge to other handguns, and he said you had lost that one." Her voice was a bit unsure.

"It's perfect. Thank you, dearheart." He watched as her face softened and he placed the gun back in it's case, not wanting to dirty it or mark it up.

"Well I'm glad you like it." She went back to the pot on the stove and he watched her, taking in how truly beautiful she really was.

It was then that he knew, that she was indeed special and if circumstances were different he would show her exactly how much she was beginning to mean to him.

...

A/N: Phew! That's my longest chapter to date and all written within the span of 4 hours. Now I'm exhausted but I think that should tie you all over until I get the next angst filled chapter up. 2 chappies in less than one day! I'm on a roll son! Anyhow like I said it was pretty fluffy and a bit OOC over the line but I couldn't help it. I love these two and I needed something to soften the blow of what's going to happen next. It won't be pretty, trust me. Anyhow! Until next time dear readers!