I am truly sorry that it took so long to update. On the upside, I'm expecting A's on all of the papers that are currently sucking my life dry. Thanks for the reviews, and enjoy!

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Chapter 25: Slipping Faith

"Goodbye for now, dear heart," Wesker softly spoke. The sky overhead was fast approaching, and there stood Claire, arms waving and then carefully touching her stomach. He had, of course, heard her yelling his name, wanting him to come back. She wanted to stay with him; she'd yelled it in Chris's face, but that had been the extent of it, and Wesker couldn't help but feel dissatisfied. In some sense, what had happened was her choice, for strong desire should have been enough for her to escape Chris. Of course, her brother would have likely been injured in the process since channeling her inner instincts was hardly safe to those around her. And so Claire had weighed the risks and made a choice.

Reflecting on her decision, Wesker was disappointed. He had seen the look of defeat in her eyes when she had sagged against Chris, effectively confessing that she could not bring herself to do what had to be done. Was it weakness? Wesker would normally jump directly to that conclusion, but perhaps with Claire it was strength. She had a way of making him reevaluate what he usually wrote off as foolishness, and her loyalty was actually commendable. It was a hard trait to denounce when the same sense of loyalty kept her true to him, her lover. Still, he found it annoyingly irrefutable that one of her greatest qualities both bolstered her attachment to him, but in the end caused her to let him slip away.

It had been her choice, and he wasn't pleased, but he understood her reasoning. In her eyes, it probably wasn't a betrayal at all, but her yells had been so desperate. She was worried, he realized, worried that he would write her off as a failure. No, dear heart, not at all. She was unapologetically who she was, and her heart would never grow calloused enough to deny those whom she loved. Hadn't she already proven herself to him? Perhaps. He was never absolutely certain, and now he realized more than ever that Chris had to die. There was no way around it if he wanted Claire's unwavering loyalty and priority. He had thought of this before, but never with such fierce resolve, for what had once been an aggravation was now growing into a serious issue. He would not have Claire torn between two opposed personalities on the eve of her full induction into his world.

Wesker smiled cruelly, for this was one problem that would be settled shortly. Cold resolve had always been one of his greatest assets; however, as he watched the sunlight fall across Claire's form, he was acutely aware of his agitation, heightened as it was by the pain still lingering over his body. She would be on her own when he unleashed uroboros, and so she would need to take care of herself—that, and he wouldn't be around to control and manipulate her experiences in the bloody aftermath. It would make his job more difficult, but it wasn't a major problem. No, he was more concerned with a specific thought that was bringing out the depths of his dark nature, and it was something that he had long been contemplating. As obnoxious as it was, this was partly his fault.

Wesker did not easily admit such things, and now was no different, but he had to take blame where it was due. For one, he had neglected Chris's presence and gotten himself poisoned, thus ending his ability to forcefully take Claire. Secondly, he had gone against his instincts, and that was the real source of his ever-darkening mood. It was mind-numbingly disgusting now that he considered it.

Claire claimed to love him, and he did not doubt her sincere intentions when she said that, but perhaps he had allowed himself to put too much stock in such sentimental comments. He had seen her in the hangar when Chris and Sheva began fighting him. He had seen her edging closer, looking nervous and concerned, and yet he had dismissed her. He would kill or delay his enemies, and she would naturally accompany her love afterward—at least, that had been the plan—but then she'd stepped in front of him, shielding his body with her own. No one had ever done such a thing for him, and it stunned him that he should be the recipient of such honest sacrifice. That more than anything had made him think that Claire was unconditionally at his side, and so he had expected her to pull free from Chris when she was detained. Instead, her look of defeat had disappointed him more than he could have anticipated, but why?

He openly mocked himself for those few seconds where she'd longingly stared at him. He was an idiot to have momentarily believed that Claire's love was really as complete as she seemed to think. It wasn't enough on its own to unconditionally bind her to him. Emotional attachments were never enough on their own, and because he accepted that, he had never fully depended on them in handling others. He didn't even know how to completely forgo manipulation in his associations, and there was a reason for that: survival and control. Claire clearly needed to be marginally monitored since their emotional attachment would never be entirely enough to satisfy his security precautions on its own. His trust didn't work like that, and he was slightly disappointed (although he would never admit it) that Claire had reaffirmed his decision on that account.

He doubted that she really would have fought Chris to protect him. She would have been mad to do so when her brother's life would be the cost. Still…Wesker started the engine, and the plane would take off within moments. He saw Chris and Sheva running to catch up as the machine's engine began purring and the gears moving. The ship's rising platform locked into place, and he entered the coordinates that would take him to the desired atmospheric height.

Wesker admitted to himself that he would have preferred that Claire had made another decision. He had not placed undue trust in hoping that she would, but it would have been a most welcomed surprise. It would have forced him to accept that maybe Claire was right, and that people could selflessly dedicate themselves to another, and that because of such a bond's intensity, he could mindlessly allow this one woman into his life. It didn't matter that he would never be self-sacrificing or humble like her. What mattered was that there would be no more looking over the shoulder or checking to see if she was foiling his plans. It would have been something entirely new, but something which he'd never put faith in exactly because it was so unrealistic. Again, there was a reason for doing so, and Claire was proof of that, as much as he still intended to keep her.

Life was, in short and as always, exactly what he expected it to be.

Experiments on children, greed, power, backstabbing, plotting…only fools thought otherwise, and they were the ones to be used and disposed of at will.

Claire believes otherwise. Okay, so there was some warmth in this world, Wesker decided, but it wasn't free of its own weaknesses and self-interest.

It's still warmth.

Yes, and he decided that he didn't want to lose that rare bright spot, even though he didn't need it like he needed this project and its power. The plane pulled away, and Chris and Sheva—those damned, eternal nuisances—were running to catch the plane's open hold. He pressed the button to raise the hatch and thus seal them outside to await an agonizing end. Claire was still standing there, watching the plane catch speed and prepare for take off.

Warmth, he mused before realizing that he was going to have to go down to the hold and dispose of two stowaways. Claire was completely forgotten as his annoyance returned tenfold. The uroboros called to him, and he wouldn't let anything harm them. He would not be stopped, and suddenly the warmth cooled. It didn't matter when he had a task before him, and it would be waiting for him when he was finished here. She had agreed to side with him if he won, and he at least believed her on that account. She was dedicated to keeping her word, and it wasn't like she would have a choice anyway.

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The plane was gone, leaving Claire to watch it rise into the sky. Chris and Sheva were on that plane, even though she had doubted that the other woman would make it. Well, it was good that Chris wasn't alone. That Sheva is a toughie—just like me, Claire thought. She pressed a hand to the communicator stuck in her ear and concentrated. With the loud thrusts of the plane's engines and the rushing wind, it was difficult to hear what Jill was saying. Her sensitive ears were always drawn to overbearing noises, especially when Wesker was causing them.

"What?" she virtually yelled at Jill.

"We're coming," Jill's familiar voice answered. "Look east." Claire had no idea which way was east. She didn't even know where she was, but that wasn't exactly an unfamiliar situation. Gosh, she hated being forever taken and deposited in unknown locations. Where is freaking east? But she didn't need to ponder the question for long, for the buzz of a helicopter interrupted her thoughts.

There, she realized. The helicopter was swooping over the water's surface and heading straight for the ship. Thank you, she silently smiled. Now she could follow Wesker, but could the helicopter catch a plane? The ominous, black aircraft was already rapidly disappearing from sight and with it her chances of reaching her family before it was too late. For the culmination of a lifetime's battle, the day was so achingly beautiful that the plane's dark splotch upon sapphire blue looked harmless. It seemed to her that this place had no business being so deceptively benign and warm when people whom she loved were probably going to die. How many were even aware that the fate of the world was ascending higher and higher?

The whirl of the helicopter's blades grew much louder as it hovered and lowered onto the ship's wide deck, but Claire was kept watching Wesker and Chris fading into the horizon. It was not the sound but the wind that eventually broke her concentration, and she muttered several curses as she struggled to hold down the edges of her black dress. The helicopter was kicking up such a gust that her hair tore free from its bun and whipped about her face. She took several steps forward while combating her untamable hair, a thrill of excitement shooting through her as she realized that her muscles were no longer sore or sluggish. It was time to go, and now her body was sufficiently recovered to handle it.

The side of the helicopter was open, and Jill knelt at the entrance, one hand extended. Her dark hair had grown longer during captivity, and a now lengthy ponytail fluttered about behind her. Claire noted that her friend still wore the black bodysuit, but her face seemed less strained. The overbearing pain of hardships that had seemed permanently etched into her face only a short while ago was nowhere to be found, and in its place was an understandable weariness. It permeated her smooth but restrained body language as she leaned out of the helicopter while holding onto the metal frame.

"Come on!" she called, and Claire complied. Gods, she looks so ready for this, Jill thought. She too was ready for this to be over, but she was surprised by Claire's steadiness after what had happened with Chris. Well, if Claire knew what was coming and could still keep her chin up, the woman had energy reserves that Jill commended. This precarious battle of wills couldn't be any easier on Claire than it was on her, for both were facing the possible loss of loved ones, but then again, perhaps it was that very finality and pressure that forced them to run headlong toward a deadly conclusion. Too much was crashing around them for either to fully comprehend the dangerous knife's edge that they walked along. It was a blessing as far as Jill was concerned. She had always been more comfortable fighting for her life than sitting in the aftermath, covered in debris and waiting for the next surprise.

"We've got to move fast," Claire stated as her hand gripped Jill's.

"Don't worry," Jill shouted back. There was something raw about Claire's appearance as she was pulled forward—something wild and utterly enthralling. Flying red hair, determined, blue eyes shining in the brilliant morning light, and a black dress hugging her thighs and body, revealing the ever-present baby bump. Wesker's child was in there, and Jill could summon no clear emotion to deal with that fact. In more than one way, she was sad to know that Claire's situation had grown even more complicated than it already had been; however, Wesker really did seem to care about Claire in his own way, which happened to be a way that Jill had caught a glimmer of after watching him for hours on end.

Jill knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Wesker was different with Claire—oh, not in an obvious way, but the evidence was there in subtle gestures and stray comments that he made in reference to Claire. Perhaps most telling was what he didn't do around her: harshly ridicule or ignore her, order her to be useful, brush off her concerns or needs, or lock her away…the more Jill considered these things, the more she realized that Wesker, for all his outward coolness, was more considerate and caring toward Claire than seemed possible.

"Chris, Sheva, and Albert are on that plane," Claire said as she sat beside Jill in the helicopter. "Albert's going to release uroboros into the atmosphere."

"We know," Jill replied. "We'll catch up to them."

"How?"

"Satellite," Jill smiled. "The government gave BSAA was damned good equipment. We'll follow them, and hopefully Chris will ground the plane. If not…"

"Yeah, I know," Claire grimly stated. "It will all be over." Jill reached across the seat and grabbed the other woman's hand. She did not like the dark expression settling over her friend's face. It was too reminiscent of her own throughout captivity.

"You're not in this alone," she assured Claire. Their hands were clasped together, and Claire stared at them a moment longer before gently nodding her head.

"That's right," she agreed. "No one is in this alone, despite what certain people might be tempted to think." Jill immediately understood the implication and still managed to nod. She wondered if Wesker had any idea how fortunate he was to have found what he had in Claire. Did that bastard have any idea what he might lose to his ambition? If he did, she doubted that it would stop him, and that made him a fool. He was the cruelest son of bitch that she'd ever met, and his priorities were all consuming, but she could find no pity for the monster. Part of her wanted him to die alone and miserable for what he'd done, and she was going to help accomplish that; yet here was Claire, and she didn't want her friend to suffer through such an ordeal.

"There's no stopping this, Claire," she said, soft but final.

"I know, and thank you, Jill. I imagine that I don't seem very trustworthy anymore."

"That's not true," Jill argued. "I don't doubt you." She pulled her hand away and stared out the side of the helicopter, feeling Claire's questioning gaze on her profile. I don't hold it against you, Claire. But she didn't voice those thoughts aloud, for she didn't want to have this conversation now when more important ordeals engulfed them. Instead she focused on the waves that sped away beneath them, and her eyes were drawn toward several birds in flight near the crest of the waves. She breathed deep and let her eyes close against the warm heat of the day.

Free.

It hit her for the first time in its entirety. The wind against her face and the smell of salt water invaded her senses, and this time she could enjoy the sensations as a woman without chains. She could smile. It was amazing that such a simple thing could elevate her heart to untold heights. She suddenly wanted to jump into that water and feel it envelop her, and then she would be able to swim and languish in its feel rather than immediately return to some dungeon because her master called.

God, she hated that man. This—this was bliss. Simply being was enough at that moment, and she didn't want it to end. To be able to indulge in something rather than move like a mechanical puppet was something that she'd forgotten existed, and now she could again choose what she did and expressed. Her thoughts naturally turned to the person who had taken that ability from her, and she wondered if he had ever chosen to sit and revel in something as simple as the wind and water. Probably not. It seemed to her one of the greatest misfortunes of this world that someone could have the ability to appreciate such basic freedoms and joy and never really utilize it. Wesker probably overlooked everything that now seemed so precious to her.

"Claire," she said, drawing the redhead's attention. "Do ever regret seeing in gray?"

Silence.

"I used to, but not right now." It was a fair and honest answer, and Jill appreciated it for what it was. "Did he hurt you badly?" Claire asked, and Jill's mouth twisted into a frown.

"He hurt me in ways that will never heal," she sighed. "Up here," and she pointed to her head. Claire sadly nodded and began holding her stomach. She really did care, Jill realized. Claire always managed to care, even when it hurt her to do so. How had Wesker gained such a gift? More importantly, how was he leaving it behind to an uncertain fate? "He has no idea," Jill sadly scoffed, appalled by the man's callousness. She assumed that Claire had not heard her, but then the other woman glanced at her with a blank face.

"He knows, Jill, but he doesn't always understand." Jill couldn't decide whether that made it worse or better. She was mostly too tired to waste any more thoughts on contemplating emotions and motives. She couldn't even dwell on her intense aversion to all things Wesker-related. Perhaps she could have found more energy to do so, but the clinging fatigue of freshly shed captivity prevented her from overly caring about proper revenge. She just wanted to put this behind her.

"Something's not right," a male voice interrupted them. Great. What now?