Heya! Sorry for taking FOREVER with this update, but I've been so preoccupied with work and my script (amongst other things) and haven't had time to do what I want. You guys understand, right? When you want to do something, but it's not as important? Like wanting to write this chapter, but it's hard to enjoy it, knowing you have to write things for a job? *Face Palm* Sorry for the digression; but I'm sure you understand my frustration.

Anyways, I just want to say thanks to everyone for sticking with me despite my madness and absence, and a HUGE thanks to those who reviewed, followed, or favorite-ed. I appreciate it, and if it wasn't for you all, I would probably write this story in my head—and if that happened—it would never appear on paper. SO! Without further ado, I present this chappy:D Enjoy!

p.s. Lots of Wesker, here…


To Those Who Wait

The rain pummeled the earth without mercy, the way sadness had slowed the beating of Claire's heart as she stood next to Chris; her eyes were glazed with sorrow, her face too stone to move. She couldn't hear the priest's sermon as he read from his book, or, rather, didn't care to; her mind was in the clouds at the moment, and any kind words of comfort or prayers for Greg's soul had yet to move her.

Claire still couldn't believe he was gone.

Sure, Greg had turned out to be an awful person in the end, threatening and blackmailing…but a part of Claire couldn't help but feel sorry for him. His depression must've made his life unbearable, and she could see why he acted the way he did, be it for attention or to just have company in general. In the end, he just wanted a friend, someone who could ease his suffering and make his loneliness tolerable.

Chris wrapped his arm around Claire's shoulders and squeezed, reminding her that he was by her side. She gave a few blinks, having kept her stare on Greg's headstone longer than she wanted to, and looked up at Chris. His expression was hard, and though he didn't know Greg as much as she did, Claire figured he was trying to be strong for her.

A sigh passed through her lips as she looked away and scanned the funeral occupants discreetly. To the priest's right Greg's family stood, gloomy and tear-faced as they huddled together, silently sharing their last moments with Greg's spirit. He would be but a memory now.

It was sad, really…

Standing around Claire were Jill, Barry, and a couple classmates from school that Claire recognized, but couldn't remember what their names were right off the bat. Still, it was nice to see them there; perhaps if Greg knew he had other people who cared about him in this way, things might've been different—he might still be alive…and happy.

A figure in black moved into her peripheral vision and she stiffened instantly when he came to stand next to her.

Wesker…

He didn't look at her. Like everyone but Claire, Wesker kept his attention on the priest, setting his lips into a flat line, fisting one hand in his pocket and gripping a black umbrella with the other. His golden hair glistened with a fresh layer of gel against the dark contrast of his suit.

Sunglasses…even in this gloomy weather, huh?

Claire gave a flicker of a smile before turning back towards the priest, leaning into Chris as the grip on her shoulder tightened.


After giving their condolences and goodbyes, Chris, Jill, and Barry made way for their vehicles, deep in their own conversations as they walked side-by-side. Claire walked ahead of the trio, left to her own thoughts as she practically marched through the damp grass, trying her best to avoid twisting her ankle or breaking her skull if she fell on someone else's grave.

If it weren't for these damn heels…

"Claire, you're gonna fall!" Chris called from behind, but Claire didn't bother to listen. The Jeep came into view and she breathed a sigh of relief, eager to climb inside and rest her aching feet.

"Almost there." Claire's look of excitement was short-lived when she sank into the muddied earth and lost her balance, falling forward to the ground with one heel stuck in the mud. Her dress was drenched. She clenched mud and grass between her fingers and swallowed the urge to scream at the top of her lungs in frustration. So close. She'd been so close.

It wasn't until a gloved hand appeared in front of her near-teary eyes that Claire snapped out of it. She didn't have to look up to know whose hand it was. She watched the raindrops pelt the shiny leather, and her hesitation earned a sigh from Wesker.

"If you prefer to stay down there, I'll retract my hand."

Claire rolled her eyes and took the offered hand. Wesker pulled her to her feet with ease, and then bent over to retrieve the black heel still wedged in the mud.

"Thanks," Claire muttered, reaching for the heel, but Wesker kept it from her reach. "I don't have time for keep away, Wesker."

"Allow me." Not waiting for a response, Wesker handed Claire his umbrella and knelt, guiding Claire's foot into the heel…ever so slowly. So slowly, in fact, that Claire felt like kicking the blond afterwards.

When Claire was able to put her weight on that foot, Wesker's fingers grazed her smooth legs before standing. Whether it was leather or bare hands, Wesker was sure he got the message across. Claire looked away, hoping the heat rising on her cheeks wouldn't show, given the current weather conditions.

"Claire! Are you Ok?!" Chris was at her side and immediately noticed the mud on the hem of her dress. "I told you you'd fall."

"Chris—just open the Jeep, please?"

Chris pulled his keys out and unlocked the doors, furrowing his brows as Claire jumped in and slammed the door.

"Are you kidding me?" Chris growled, ready to pull his sister out and scold her in front of his team.

"Leave her, Chris." Wesker's gravelly voice sliced through the rain. Chris raised his brows in question. "She's upset."

"But that doesn't give her a reason—"

"It's alright, Chris." Barry shrugged his shoulders. "She's emotional—we get it."

Jill gave Chris' shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "She'll come around. I mean, she just lost a friend. Think how you would feel in her shoes."

Chris looked back at Claire, barely able to make her out behind the water-pelted glass, and sighed. "Yeah…she'll come around."


"Just like I told you, Al—gone, gone, gone." William gestured to the floor. "Not a trail of feces in sight. Talk about a clean getaway."

Wesker looked away from the eaten cages and scrunched his face in annoyance. "I'm so glad you've decided to look at the bright-side of this unfortunate incident." He left the cages and began to pace, rubbing his chin in thought. "They couldn't have gone too far. You've already checked the storage rooms?"

William brushed his golden bangs aside. "Of course. Isn't that the first place rodents like to meet and conspire?"

Wesker dropped his hand to his side and glared. "This is supposed to be a serious matter, William. Weren't you the one crying to me on the phone the other night?"

William threw his hands up mockingly. "Well excuse me for trying to be positive, Scrooge. I forgot, you only like to make little girls cry and puppies howl."

Wesker cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, eyes narrowing behind his shades. "And you only like to worsen an already bad situation with poor comedy. Stick to your day job." Wesker moved towards the exit. "I'll be back tonight."

"Wait a minute, Al. What the hell am I supposed to do until—"

Wesker whipped around just as he reached the door. "Check the security footage and see what you can find. If the rats don't pop up on this floor, surely the cameras caught something up above." The automatic door hissed open. "I'll be back tonight," Wesker repeated and went through, leaving William alone in the lab.


"Another day in the life, huh, Chris?" Barry asked, sliding his mug to Chris to be filled. "Reports galore."

Chris scoffed as he filled the mug with coffee. "Don't remind me. It's bad enough Wesker's on my ass all the time about 'em." He handed Barry his mug and filled his own. "He knows I hate that shit, Barry. Put me on patrol; let me help you clean the guns—anything but paperwork." Chris scrunched his face. "Anything."

A metal clank sounded as Barry stirred in his sugar with a spoon. "I don't make the decisions, pal. Wesker's the captain. Besides, I don't think it'd be fair to exempt you from paperwork; you're an officer just like everyone else in this precinct. They all have to do it too…"

There was a moment of silence before Chris added, "Can I pay someone to do my paperwork?"

Barry gave a hearty laugh and shook his head before taking a sip of coffee. "That damn Redfield pride—it never ceases to amaze me."

Heavy footsteps sounded behind Barry; He and Chris looked up to see Wesker stroll in.

"Afternoon," Wesker greeted and grabbed a mug from the cabinet.

Barry gave a nod. "Captain."

Chris peered over his mug. "Wesker." There was a twinkle in his eyes when they landed on Barry. He purposely raised his voice for his captain to hear. "So Barry…about cleaning the guns…Didn't you say you needed help?"

Barry cleared his throat. "You know what, I've been pretty swamped, Chris. If you're free, I could use an extra hand."

A small, amused hum sounded from Wesker as he poured his coffee, but said nothing in reply.

Chris carefully looked over his shoulder and back at Barry before continuing. "Great. That would make my day go a lot smoother—"

"And do you know what would make my day go smoother, Chris?" Wesker asked, walking around the marksmen to stand next to Barry. "Not having to worry about you finishing your paperwork." Chris looked surprised to see the seriousness in Wesker's features, wondering what the hell crawled up his ass this time.

"Uh…well, that's certainly something someone of your rank would have to keep tabs on, Wesker. I can understand your frustrations."

Wesker's golden eyebrows rose above the frame of his sunglasses. "Oh? You understand my frustrations? How can that be if you're the catalyst behind most of them, Christopher?"

Barry visibly winced as though Wesker's harsh words managed to cut through him, too. That did it. It was one thing to insult or belittle Chris whenever he messed up—which could account for most of the time at the office—but to call him by his first name was taboo. And Wesker knew it.

"Huh, what do you know…?" Chris began through clenched teeth. "I guess it's fair to say that you understand my frustrations as well, don't you, Albert?"

"Dammnit, Chris…" Barry groaned, clenching the bridge of his nose with a frustrated sigh. "Look, Captain, we don't need to feed the fire, here—"

"Nonsense, Barry. Let's let our marksman talk, shall we?" A mocking chuckle followed suit.

"Wow, I'm surprised you actually noticed, Albert—"

"Wesker-"

"—because I know how damn hard it is to notice anything from that high fucking horse you're always on." Chris edged closer to Wesker. "It's just you. It's always been about you. There's no "I" in team, Alb—"

Before Chris could finish his captain's first name, his arm was twisted behind him and his body, slammed into the refrigerator face-first. Barry jumped back in shock, looking back and forth between the two, debating whether or not to step in; he didn't quite see the logic in interfering with Wesker—seeing as he'd probably be in the same position as Chris—but it wasn't like Wesker to openly engage with Chris physically, unless it pertained to combat training. This, however…Wesker was really stooping below his own level.

"You're a self-righteous fool, do you know that?" Wesker hissed in Chris' ear, and tugged tighter when the latter tried to shrug away. "Always the prideful soldier, so eager to please and protect everyone…but cannot follow the simple orders of his commanding officer without spitting out garbage."

"I-ugh...wouldn't have to…if you weren't such a f-fucking asshole—"

"Chris, you idiot!" Barry growled and moved toward the pair. "Captain, please—"

Wesker's hand stopped him in his tracks. "An asshole?" He tisked in disappointment. "That's already been said. Come now, Chris, I'm sure you have more in that magician's hat of yours." Chris only grunted in reply.

"No?" Wesker seemed surprised and loosened his grip slightly. "Well…if you're sincere about throwing in the towel—"

With all his might, Chris pushed off with his leg and launched himself and Wesker onto the old, unstable coffee table; its legs bent beneath their weight and collapsed onto the floor. Chris threw his head back, slamming his skull into Wesker's nose.

"Not a chance, Wesker," Chris retorted and rolled off his captain to scramble to his feet.

The blond clenched his nostrils tightly as blood began to seep out. He sat up, staring coldly at Chris before standing. He removed his glasses with his free hand and tossed them on the counter.

"So…you want praise…is that it?" Wesker's voice wavered with each breath, raw adrenaline coursing through his trembling body. He bared his teeth like a mad dog, ready to rip Chris apart at any given moment. Wesker took a deep breath and chuckled. "Despicable. You know, I truly feel sorry for your sister."

"Where the fuck did that come from?" Chris pointed an accusing finger. "If you so much as touched her—"

"You'll do what, Chris? Hm? Kill me? You couldn't even break my nose." Wesker released his nostrils, letting the blood flow freely. "I've never done what your feeble mind is possibly conjuring up, so you might as well wipe those thoughts away."

"Yeah, right. And I'm also supposed to believe you aren't still ogling her?" Wesker wiped his nose. Chris shrugged. "What, did you guys kiss or did you pressure her into—"

"I never pressured Claire into anything." Wesker's hands were at his sides, tightening with every passing second. "What the hell do you take me for, Chris?" A breathless moment of silence passed. Wesker lowered his voice. "Nothing was done without her consent."

Chris' felt the acid bubble in his stomach. He took a deep breath to keep himself from vomiting. It was true. Wesker was seeing Claire—his sister. Despite the shock and awe from this revelation, somehow Chris had a feeling—a nipping gut-feeling that something other than talking was happening between them.

Even Barry saw it coming, Chris thought as he ran his calloused hands down his face. "You're old enough to be her father. How could you?"

"C'mon, pal, we talked about this," Barry reasoned, tearing a paper towel to hand to Wesker, who tore off pieces and twisted them up his nostrils. "Claire's a big girl—"

"But she's my sister, Barry. How can you expect me to just let that go?" He turned to Wesker, trying to mask the betrayal on his features in vain, and cleared his raspy, sandpaper-like throat. "Since when?"

"…Since when, what?"

Chris shrugged. "How long has this been going on?"

"I do not think that's any of your concern," Wesker warned, curling his lips into a snarl. "Do not try to give me a lecture on ethics or attempt to reprimand me like I'm some teenage school-boy, Chris." Wesker continued before he could reply. "I suggest you keep clear of my business…unless you'd like to find out what excessive prying into my private life leads to."

Rage twisted Chris' features and his attempted lunge for Wesker was halted by Barry as he wrapped his arms around his middle. "Why, Wesker, huh? Why Claire?"

Wesker picked up his shades and slid them on. "Perhaps you should not be asking, 'Why Claire?' but, rather, 'Claire, why?' She could've picked any other man, but she chose me. Tell me: would you harbor the same anger towards Speyer or Frost, even Vickers, had Claire chose one of them?" Wesker shook his head. "Probably not, at least to some degree. I suppose any man with your sister would make your blood boil." He dabbed the paper towel along his upper lip, soaking up the excess blood.

"But let's not kid ourselves, Chris. Your sister's involvement with me only paves the way for more friction between you and I.

"Don't try and change the subject, Wesker," Chris argued, pulling out of Barry's grasp. "This isn't about you and me."

"Oh, but it is!" A deep chuckle rumbled in Wesker's throat as he pulled the twists of paper from his nostrils and tossed them in the trash. "Do you really think we can function the same way, knowing what you do? Of course not. We have our differences and that will never change—that much is certain." He twisted two new pieces of paper towel and inserted one into a nostril. "But what will really set you ablaze—more so than before, I'm sure—is that you'll never accept the choice your sister has made." He shrugged and stuck the other twisted piece up his other nostril. "By all means, hate me—but do not put Claire in the crosshairs too."

Wesker tossed the remaining paper towel in the trash and took a menacing step towards Chris. "Don't fret—things will appear normal as before, and when she comes to visit, I'll continue to play the role…as will you." Turning on his heel, the Alpha captain made way for the exit, and waited in the doorway. "I would really hate to see what would happen otherwise." His heavy footsteps echoed in the halls and faded away in the distance.

When he was sure Wesker was out of earshot, Barry grabbed Chris by the collar and pulled him in.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" He seethed. "Do you know how much trouble you'll be in if Wesker tells the Chief?"

"Just lay off Barry, alright," Chris growled, pointing a finger towards the hall. "That bastard won't say shit if he knows what's good for him, and if he does, he's going to have a meeting with my fist!"

"I care too much about you to just 'lay off,' Chris. This kinda shit has to stop or it'll cost you, not only your job, but your entire career; no other precinct will hire you if Irons has his way. You know that!" When Chris finally let himself cool down, he gave a small, affirmed nod. Barry released him and stepped back. "And about Claire…" He sighed. "Just talk to her. That's the best option you have right now. You've already tried convincing her that Wesker is much older than her and that obviously hit her the wrong way. She's a young woman, and even though you might not agree with all her choices, it's up to her to choose what makes her happy.

"Now I'm not saying Wesker is the one…kinda weird if you think about it." Barry shook his head. "But you want Claire to be happy, don't you? I mean, it's obvious she is with the amount of time she spends with the captain. And he's not hurting her or anything, and she seems interested. Really, we should be the ones patting Wesker on the back for getting back into the scene."

Chris snorted, and ran fingers through his hair, shaking his head lightly. "That's not funny, Barry. It feels as though Wesker is doing this to spite me. I just…I don't know what to do. Claire's just as stubborn as I am, but I don't want her to get hurt."

"Hey, none of us know how this'll turn out. Just be there to support Claire no matter what. Besides…she looks up to you more than anyone, Chris. She can't go wrong there."


Wesker walked into his house with an arm full of manila folders packed with papers to their capacity. He set them on his coffee table, placing his shades on top before unlacing his boots and kicking them to the corner. Another day he expected to go right (for once) inevitably turned out to be very troublesome.

After his talk with Chris, the STARS office held no remorse for him the moment he walked through the door. Numerous rings from the phones first greeted him at the door, followed by Jill's "onto deaf ears messages" that were read off to him from a sticky note all the way to his office. Once she had finished reading them he crumbled the paper and tossed it in the trash. If the calls were important, they would call back; he never bothered returning anyone's calls from the office phone line.

Shortly afterwards, Brad had entered with the stack of manila folders, placing them neatly on Wesker's desk, and scurried out after receiving a questionable look from the blond. Wesker shook his head. What made him bring such an anxious individual into an elite Special Forces team was anyone's guess.

The sound of a door opening upstairs quickly put Wesker in defense mode. He un-holstered his gun and kept it aimed at the stairs, making precise steps towards the base of them. Step after step eventually led him to the top. He hugged the walls and proceeded to the open door, where fresh steam from a hot shower quickly enveloped the hall. The smell of strawberry shower gel—odd, since he didn't own any—filled his nostrils as he neared, and nearly pulled the trigger when Claire stepped out in a robe two sizes too big.

She gasped loudly, swallowing any scream that threatened to surface. "Holy shit, Wesker! What the hell are you doing sneaking up on me like that?!"

Wesker inhaled a gulp of air and holstered his gun. "This is my house, if you do not recall." Sharp features scrunched in confusion as he took in her form. "What are you doing here and how did you get in?"

"Well officer, I didn't wanna be home, so I'd thought I'd drop by. The bus ride was gross, so I figured a shower might do me some good." She pulled a hair tie off her wrist and tied her hair in a ponytail. "As for how I got in, that's classified information," Claire finished with a deceitful smile.

The blond rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Something tells me a little STARS member must have showed you the ropes. I suppose she taught you well."

"Wait, how did you know it was Jill?"

"It might be because she's the only lock picker on the team," Wesker said mockingly. "And let's not forget that she's the only female on Alpha. For now, we'll disregard the fact that you also mentioned her name."

Claire picked her nails with mild interest, and when Wesker cleared his throat she looked up as if misplaced. "Oh, I'm sorry, were you finished? I kinda lost interest when you copped an attitude."

Wesker loomed over Claire, forcing her back into the wall. He held her chin and tilted it up. "Unlike you, I've had a very rough day. Not to mention, I have a stack of files that require my attention, so if you would be so kind as to get dressed and leave, I'd be most appreciative." Just as his warm fingers were about to release her chin, Claire called out to him.

"Wait." Claire placed her hand over his own and moved them to her cheek. "I'm sorry." Wesker furrowed his brows, prompting her to continue. "A-about, you know…Greg. I didn't mean to be so disrespectful to you…you were only trying to do your job." Tears swelled in her eyes. "It's just awful to know Greg was suffering like that. And I'm sure you searched high and low for him…it's just hard to accept. It's not easy losing someone like that."

"You don't need to apologize, Claire," Wesker said softly, using both hands to wipe away her tears. "Trust me when I say I understand. He was very dear to you, I know…but you have to let go and move on." His breath made her skin tingle as he hovered near her ear. "I can show you how."

She looked up at him, wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights, but her features softened when Wesker planted a kiss on her lips. She didn't hesitate to kiss him back, just realizing how hungry she had been for him. Petite hands found their way into his gel covered locks at the base of his neck, and pulled—a pleased moan from Wesker shortly followed. He removed his hands from her face and slid them down the curves of her body until he loosened the tie, pushing the entire robe off her shoulders.

Claire gasped in protest, but Wesker held her wrists. He didn't pull his lips away entirely; they brushed against Claire's with each syllable. "Clearly, I'm not one to say how I feel, so why don't we skip the soap opera antics and go for something more…practical?"

Claire hesitated, opening her mouth but not knowing how to respond. Wesker put a finger to her lips. "There's no need for words, Claire. Let me show you and I promise you'll never feel alone again." His lips captured Claire's once more. Not another word was exchanged as he led her to his bedroom.


Wesker pushed Claire against his chest as she stirred in her sleep, and then carefully pulled the covers over her bare shoulder. As he lay on his back with his other hand over his forehead, he thought about what the future might hold for him. William's research on G wasn't progressing as fast as he'd originally thought. From dusk till dawn, every experiment up until now had failed—with G being far too powerful to keep cells from dying. They had to find something in order to keep the virus stable…but what?

Even the prototype virus—a cynical gift from his so-called "friend," if Wesker had any say—was eating away at his mind. He kept it stored in his own freezer at a specific temperature until he needed it, and even that was difficult to determine. He was eager to test it, to inject the virus into his own body so that he could see the look on everyone's faces when he cheated death—and he would smile in satisfaction. But he couldn't take such a risk should the virus kill him or worse: turn him into a monster.

The buzzing of his phone made him instantly reach over and silence it. He carefully slid his arm from around Claire and stood to retrieve his sweats from the floor. Once out in hall, Wesker flipped open his phone and answered it.

"It's two-thirty in the fuckin' morning, you idiot—clearly that means I wasn't coming back to the lab."

There was a hoarse voice on the other end.

"I realize the time, Albert, but I do not appreciate your use of colorful language."

Wesker's stomach dropped like a dead-weight. He cleared his throat. "My sincere apologies, Mr. Spencer. Doctor Birkin has an annoying habit of waking me in these early hours. You know what a workaholic he is."

"I couldn't agree more. Speaking of Doctor Birkin, how is the research coming along? He hasn't given me a progress report in over two months. That isn't like him."

Wesker swallowed the lump in his throat. Goddamn you, William. "I assure you, Doctor Birkin and I have been working non-stop to ensure the success of the G-virus. Although our research isn't complete, we can guarantee it will be ready in approximately three months so that we may begin testing on human subjects."

There was a long pause on the other end, so long, in fact, that Wesker had to check his phone to make sure it wasn't disconnected.

"Sir?"

A sigh. "That's not what I wanted to hear, Albert. It would be wise of you both to speed things up," Spencer warned. "You could say that this virus is…well, our highest priority at the moment. Besides, I don't think the late Doctor Marcus would be very happy to know his pupils are working below his standards." Wesker refrained from throwing the phone against the wall. "I want the data reports for all B.O.W.'s, as well as the G-virus. I'll give you a ring once I have received them. Give my regards to William, won't you?"

The line went dead and Wesker closed his phone with a snap, gripping it tightly in his palm. Overwhelmed with anger, he dialed William's number. After a few rings, a click sounded on the other end.

"This is Doctor Birkin."

"Since when did you stop sending Spencer the progress reports regarding the G-virus?!" Wesker asked through clenched teeth.

"Al? Why the hell didn't you come back to the lab?"

"Goddammit, William, answer me. You know you're supposed to keep Spencer updated."

"Woah, hold on, Al. Where the hell did that come from?"

Wesker took a moment to calm his anger. "I just got off the phone with Spencer…he's not happy."

William burst into laughter. "Ah…ever the jokester, eh, Al?"

"What part of Spencer warning us to finish quickly sounds like a joke to you, you fool? He wanted to know how the G project was doing."

William's laughter died, and his voice trembled slightly. "W-what did you tell him?"

"What he wanted to hear, but that didn't sway him. He wants progress reports for every G experiment we do, and the data for all B.O.W.'s; he's not giving us much time." Wesker paused. "There was something else, too. He mentioned Marcus. It sounded too much like a threat. Obviously, he's warning us that we'll end up like him if he doesn't get the virus soon. But something tells me he's got a hidden motive he's not willing to share."

"Oh, God…What are we going to do, Al? I mean…I don't wanna die. I-I've got my work, Annette, S-Sherry…and you—"

"Relax, William," Wesker commanded. "You're no good to me when you're not focused. Now…if we can keep Spencer at bay with false progress reports, it might buy us some time."

"You're saying we should lie to Spencer?! Do you know what he would do to us if he found out?!"

"We're as good as dead either way. We'll send him fake reports and work on the virus in the meantime. I had a—how do you say?—epiphany, if you will. The Tyrant in the lab…Would I be able to come back if it killed me?"

"What, are you insane?!" William shouted. "I told you once before: the outcome for humans is unknown; there isn't enough data to prove that. Look, if you want to kill yourself, do so without coming near the lab."

"Mind your tongue and listen! We don't have much time. I want you to release the MA-39s from their kennels into the forest." Wesker quickly continued after each sentence to avoid another interruption. "After that is finished, I want you to gather your research and head to the underground lab below the city. Once I know you're safe, I'll figure out what to do next."

"No, no, no, you're talking crazy, Al." Wesker could only imagine how hard William was pulling on his hair in distress. "We can't do this. Spencer—he's got eyes and ears everywhere. How do we know our phones aren't tapped? What if Brian gets wind of this and phones him while you're at work?!"

"Irons is a pig awaiting his turn on the spit. He won't cross me, William; he doesn't have to know anything. He deserves to die with the rest of the precinct." He looked over his shoulder, hearing Claire moving around under the covers. "Hold on." He crept to the door and cracked it open to see Claire on her side, still sound asleep. He closed the door and sighed. "We need to get out…the sooner you follow my orders, the sooner we can leave."

"Leave? After this fiasco, we won't have anywhere to go, Al. What are you trying to say?"

"William…after everything that has transpired thus far, it would do us no good to remain in the crossfire. I think it's time we left Umbrella."


Yay! I finally finished the chapter. Just a few notes, here:

Yes, I know it was Marcus that caused the outbreak, but in this story, I wanted it to revolve around William and Wesker in regards to the outbreak. Secondly, I wanted Wesker to use his devious mind to conjure up a plan so that he could use the outbreak to his advantage. Hence, the "releasing of the hounds," so to speak. And yes, I did say Claire and Wesker would break up in this chapter; I also said the mansion would be next, too, but I changed my mind. Guess you guys are stuck with me for a few more chapters, hm? Hope you don't mind ;D Lastly, YES, Chris FINALLY found out about Claire's relationship with Wesker. Not too bad, huh? Hey, it had to come about some time. Any who, I hope you guys enjoyed. Excuse the excess dialogue haha I love writing it, so apologies if you got winded with all the talking ;D Feel free to review :D I could use some *wink*. PM or Facebook me if you have any questions, comments, flames (oh my!), etc. Thanks for all the continued support! :D Until next time!—Lil V.