Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction to publish here and hopefully not my last. I know right now it's extremely short, but hopefully I can add a new chapter every four or so days. I'd appreciate if 'yall left me some comments, telling me what you liked and where I should improve. This fiction is based a few months after the RE:CV incident and includes Steve Burnside, Albert Wesker, Claire Redfield, Chris Redfield (later to come) and a few more of our favorite Resident Evil characters. As it moves on later, it'll grow and change scenes a lot. For the first few chapters it'll focus on Mr. Burnside and Miss. Redfield escaping from a lab created by Wesker, so be patient. And here's a little FYI for you.. everytime you see a "----" in this story, it means a scene/pov change. I hope it's not too confusing in the beginning and I hope that you like it.

-----

Chapter 1: Alive?

-----

It was morbid the way that the young man's body resembled a pincushion; needles and other monitoring devices had been cruelly jabbed into his stiff flesh. His clothes were the same as they had been when he died.. it was almost as if they hadn't cared enough to dress him in a hospital gown even though his yellow shirt and army pants were caked in blood. The room was a blinding white and appeared to be completely empty except for the corpse, machinery and a Biohazard sign that was plastered on the left wall next what appeared to be a door. A beep sounded as the green flat line on the heart monitor suddenly jumped, forming a series of jagged lines. The boy sat up and opened up his mouth to shout as the door thrust open and men in white coats carrying various instruments ran in.

-----

"You're going to be crushed like a cockroach, just like Steve was." Wesker illustrated his point by balling up a fist and slamming it into her face. Claire felt the numb and blinding pain attack her whole body as she flew backwards, hitting a lamppost with a dull thud. He then brought his foot to her gut while pounding on her nose and eyes with his right hand.

Ahe knew she had to fight back in order to live, but she found that she couldn't even lift her arm, let alone take a swing. Judging by the way it lay at her side, crooked and oddly bent, it was severely fractured. She blinked back tears as he sent his foot into the side of her head again.

Claire moaned bitterly while turning to the side, spitting out a mixture of blood and saliva. This action only brought another combat boot into her face, followed by a roundhouse kick to her upper body. Wincing in pain, she scooted back hoping to get a break from the onslaught of attacks. No such luck.

He grabbed her arm roughly, looking into her eyes. "Chris will be so happy to know that I've killed his sister," Wesker laughed a few more times, "Damn.. it's a real shame that Steve is back at the prisons..." A harsh grin spread over his face and a series of laughs followed. His laugh only hurt her ears and accelerated the dull throbbing in her head, stomach and arms.

She pushed him away feebly and attempted to stand up. With her good hand she reached into her vest pocket, emerging with a glock. She knew this couldn't kill him, in fact, she doubted anything could at this point. The gun was merely a last resort effort to gain some control in a situation where she had none. She aimed it at his head, slowly backing away. "What did you do to him?"

His eyes sparkled with amusement as his gaze turned to her and then the gun. He didn't know what was more laughable; the fact that she seemed proud of escaping from him (you see he'd let her loose just for the pure pleasure of game of a cat and mouse), or the idea that she wanted to see her pretty boy. He smirked. "Well, well Miss Redfield, I'm flattered. You're going to struggle, in vain, just to lose your life."

Turning away from his gaze like a wounded dog does when it has just bit its master, she realized that she ached all over; just the act of standing was becoming a chore. Aside from the pain, her mind was also focused on what he had said about Steve Burnside being alive. Did he have side effects from the Veronica virus? She needed to know. Walking slowly backwards, gun aimed on Wesker, she repeated, "Is he alive?"

"Who, Steve?" He took a step towards her in an attempt to see her reaction. He recognized the pain in her eyes when he said the name Steve. Ah, so this was Claire's weakness. Steve. The grin returned.

"Is he alive? What did you do to him?" She stared at him, clutching her wounded arm and lowering the firearm; she needed to see Steve and now. "If he is alive, take me to him."In one smooth motion he knocked the gun out of her hands and sent a karate chop to her temple. He watched as she dropped gracelessly to the ground, unconscious. "Well, well.. maybe that bastard brother of yours will come to rescue you."

---

He paced around violently in his dreary prison room. He had spent what he thought to be around four days cooped up in this unpleasantly cramped area after coming back to life and he had not seen anything more than a few men with assault rifles. He didn't know what to do, but he was almost a hundred percent sure Claire was in trouble from the bits of conversation that he had overheard from the scientists who checked on him every few hours; they appeared to be utterly facinated with his 'rebirth'. He was also a hundred percent sure that he had to save her. However, for the time being this wasn't probable, seeing as how he couldn't leave his cell. In his frustration, he kicked the rusted bars and went back to his bed in the corner, thinking about her. Her smile, her hair.. despite the current circumstances, he was still completely infatuated with the female he had gotten to work side by side with. He was wondering how she was doing when it hit him like a ton of bricks. If he had come back, that must mean Alexia had too.

Steve got up from his cot and stood in the corner. He was looking at the empty cell across from his, fully emerged in thoughts. If Alexia Ashford was alive like he believed she would most definitely go after the Redfields, seeing as how when they killed Alfred they had destroyed the Ashford Family legacy. His mind had drifted to how he was going to escape when he heard several sets of footsteps coming from further down the hall. He could also hear voices of guards and a dragging sound.

"Whose the babe?" A rough voice questioned. Steve blinked; female prisoners were rare.

"Not sure.. I think she's number 400 this month. And from what I gather, she's important. Looks beat up too."

"Jesus Christ, look at that arm. Looks like she needs some medical attention." The footsteps were approaching his cell rapidly. He decided that there were two guards, and from the sound of their heavy footsteps, they were overweight.

"Hold on, she's moving." There was a pause as if something had just dawned on the man that the voice belonged to. "Andy.. I don't think, well, you didn't secure the handcuffs right.. prick! Boss'll--" Steve heard rustling and a few moans; a struggle had ensued. Silence followed and the world seemed to stop for a minute. He had never felt so blind in his life before.

"Fuck, this goddamn bitch bit me!" There was a lingering silence and Steve cringed as the memories of Rockfort Island hit his mind; the moaning of the Zombies, the shuffle of the undead as they closed in, the prisoners being eaten alive while screaming for his help and then finally and perhaps most harshly, the memory of his father ran through his brain. He closed his eyes and it was as if he could almost smell the rotting flesh. Steve thought he had escaped that, thought he'd made it out alive. But the guard said he was a bit and that led to the question: was this girl a Zombie? Had the fucking T-Virus made it out here too? He felt desparity cloak him as he stood there, clinging to the metal bars.

Finally he heard one of the men say, "You're a fiesty little girl, tryin' to bite me. Ya think your daddy woulda taught you how to behave. Reckon I hav'ta teach you a lesson." More noise of a fight followed and then there was a groan as a solid object made contact with flabby flesh. "Ugh.. wait.. sweetie, just put down the flashli--" More sounds of impact followed by grunts of an injured man.

"Not until I get some answers, sweetie. Tell me, where is he?" It was her. Claire. He felt the desire to hold Claire surge through him as he leaned against the bars, hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl he had previously thought of his damsel in distress. However, it appeared that the roles had been reversed for this scene. How ironic. How damned ironic. "Where is he and where am I? Wesker agreed to take me to Steve and I'm not seeing him. I asked you once and I won't be asking again.." Another thud rang out as she sent the metal object into the guard's head again.

"I don't know. Please, let go," the guard whimpered, "You're hurting me."

"I don't know isn't a good enough answer, you idiot." She punched him. It wasn't. It never would be. She was never going to be satisfied until she knew the truth, until her thirst for knowing was sated with the bittersweet taste of understanding.

"Claire?" She stiffened. Steve. All this time he had been just a few prison cells away? She spun around while sending her foot into the guard's head to ensure that he would remain unconcious and looked up to the far end of the halls where the voice had cried out. The familiar, yet annoying call had quickly knocked her from the senseless rage that resembled the way a mother gets when she has found out her child is in danger. Maternal instinct. Save or die trying to save the ones you love. He called out again and it was as if nothing mattered for a brief second; her bitterness, her pain and her hurt all vanished for a few magical minutes. After some thought she took a step forward and broke into a sprint towards the direction where the voice had come from. Was he really alive?

He was.