Category:Resident Evil
Title:Wesker's Desire
Author: fan_fic_writer_uk (Dan)
Email: fan_fic_writer_uk@yahoo.co.uk
Language: English
Rating: nc-17
Note- I do NOT own resident evil (I'm *really* sorry to disappoint if you thought otherwise)
Plot Note- Regretably due to the changing of FF.net's guidelines which I'm sure you've read I can no longer persue the nc-17 aspect of this fic. However as you will already know sex was never the main part of this fic, just a means to show how close the two became. So although I'm unhappy about it, the rules must be obeyed. This fic however will remain for as I have yet to get to the sex the changes it would make to the story aren't irreversible, indeed I can work around them by not include any graphic content on the two sleeping together. This is a blessing also as it means that this fic loses it's 'sleaze' image for being under the nc-17 list in the RE catagory. Once again I'm sorry and if you have a complaint I suggest you E-mail FF.net about it (I most likely shall). The new rating for this fic will be 'R', if you have an issue with that please E-mail me and tell me why.
a/n Yep it's time again for another update (FINALLY!!). It's been a while (actually its been a LONG time to the least) I know but I've been busy with school and also, and this is the main reason for the long update, I've had some problems with this chapter and it's taken some time to work through them (although even now I'm still not entirely happy with it). I've realised that people have actually been waiting for an update through E- mails I have received, so once again particularly to them, I'm sorry about the slow update. Also I thought I'd take some time off from writing this story and try and expand into some new fics (hopefully you have/you'll check them out). If you want to check them out, of want some info on them feel free to check out my bio for updates. Anyway I'm quiet sure that you've had enough of waiting so on with the fic (that's if I've got any readers left)
Chapter Eleven: Growing Closer
***
... Lies, love, passion, lust, sex, desire, intimacy.. can love, true love every form from these, like a rose into full bloom? Or is that this rose is forever destined to be crushed, broken, shredded, torn by the frigid winds that we cast upon it? Winds of doubt, jealousy, reality, distrust and plain human nature.
Even if it does exist then is true love perfect love? Not very likely. Romeo and Juliet were the characters of the greatest love story ever told, but tragedy stalked both of them throughout their romance and didn't stop until it reached their very graves.
No true love is a fragile, brittle and possibly even an evil thing. It does things to us that no other emotion can possibly hope to accomplish, maybe even surpassing the power of the deepest hate. It affects us in an utterly profound way, like nothing else can, like nothing else could, like nothing else would. And it's tainted, it seems only ever formed (or should that be realised) out of the miseries that pain, heartache and suffering bring to us.
Either this a very cynical or a very true statement to make. For these two though love, it was ever to be love, would have to withstand all of the above and more to stand a mere hope of lasting longer than a moment of passion when cares of reality were briefly cast aside...
***
Time passed in the dim room of the ruins of the underground facility. It might have been hours or minutes, seconds or days, possibly even an eternity, time had become immeasurable for the two that laid within it. Speaking of them what a sight to behold. A faraway spectator watching may have remarked on the scene within the room as being likened to that of two lovers firmly locked in a tight, tender embrace, both led on their sides the male holding the female gently in his arms so that she was lent back into his, her body and his entwined, seemingly one. Indeed it was seemingly picture perfect, however on little more than closer inspection it would become apparent that this was not the case, in fact it was very different.
On closer inspection you'd notice the perspiration that clung to each body, both drenching and bathing it in a film of cold, damp, sticky sweat. You'd notice their faces that periodically showed signs of the obvious distress and strain each was currently feeling. You'd notice (and almost be able to feel) the intense, powerful pain that struck and passed through each of them in lightning quick bursts, causing each to buckle and yield to its strength, pressure and virulence in a matter of seconds. You'd notice how each attack that the virus gave was steadily becoming stronger than the last and far, far more deadly. You'd notice how their temperatures rocketed and plummeted at alarming and almost unbelievable rates, one minute the skin of one felt like hell's fire, the next like burning cold ice. You'd notice their breathing, erratic, weak and shallow, each lung fighting for the precious air it so desperately needed. And you'd ultimately notice how (and on more than one occasion) it seemed due these factors that their bodies were about ready to give up on the situation they had mercilessly been flung into, slowly seizing up, surrendering, ready for the end. Then at last minute, how they were brought sharply back by some unknown force from that fateful brink, that edge where they seemed to hover in uncertainty. You'd notice how this was a very, very different situation, the room was full of pain not passion, willpower was keeping each one alive, not the love of the other.....at least at that time it was.
The danger the two faced was immense, seemingly deadly, both were all too aware of the virus's affects, previous experience was evidence enough. However as time passed that danger was dramatically reduced, thankfully (?). The seemingly iron grip that the virus had as it raged within their very cells and tore at their souls gradually weakened as their bodies fought successfully against it. Living colour returned slowly to parts of each body in order to replace the deathly white pale that had formed too readily in its absence. Their chests began to rise in a steady, controlled rhythm and both the waves of convulsions and blinding pain that ran through each body slowly lessened as the danger unwillingly and grudgingly passed.
Of course danger itself takes many forms and truly this was only the beginning of what they would both have to overcome, not just physically but mentally and of course particularly emotionally as well. What they stood to face would tear each of them apart although in very different ways (or perhaps it was only the way in which they faced it that was different). For a time though the problems remained simple and, in comparison, they were... until the series of events that were to take place in that room began and changed both their lives forever (and not necessarily for the better).
***
Perhaps somewhat unsurprisingly it was Wesker who woke first after recovering from the effects of the virus. It was almost certainly due to his Tyrant genetic make up that his body was the first to heal. Waking up was practically instant even with the events that he had recently endured, another advantage that the Tyrant virus brought. However although the body had healed the sharp, stabbing pain remained as if it had been intended by the bio-monster to serve as reminder of what had happened, and this soon became apparent as he shook off the last of the residual tiredness he was feeling. His mind was alert as well (a Tyrant after all often didn't have much time to think and make decisions.. that's is if they think at all and weren't driven purely by instinct) and thousands of thoughts cascaded into it within seconds. And of course undoubtedly the most predominant of these thoughts were of his own safety and welfare as he sought in his mind to remember what had happened. Well it only took less than a heartbeat to remember what had happened, that haunting face, those eyes, the pain, the fear.. he couldn't have forgotten if he'd tried, the image was forever engraved, forever etched within his mind. It didn't take much longer either to recall where he was or indeed who he was with, and his anxiety levels rose drastically as a result of this...although he didn't realise a the time the oddness of this, and wouldn't have admitted it to himself anyway. Forcing himself to focus his eyes which were more than slightly weary (not unlike the rest of his body) he looked at the girl he was holding in his arms. Watching her with eagle eyes he observed her, making sure that she was recovering and recuperating like himself. It was an unusual feeling for Wesker, to feel so.....protective, so concerned about another human being's life, and it was unsettling, it was something he wouldn't allow himself to acknowledge or indeed deal with, it was just too much.....and yet the feeling was still there.
He watched her for a time, tracing the contours of her delicate face with his hidden eyes, taking in all of the beauty before them. One might eloquently (and quite truthfully) of called it being completely captivated by her, Wesker quite obviously would have argued to the absolute contrary. His face remained as emotionless as usual as he gazed upon her, offering no clue as to what he might feel for her. He pulled it off so effectively that it seemed that she could just as likely have been his worst enemy as much as his best friend. However something changed in the room, his icy cold exterior was undoubtedly betrayed when he spontaneously shifted his position within the bed, ever so slowly and skilfully whilst his eyes were still upon her, so that he was looking at her head on. It was as if he was driven, compelled to do what he did next. Almost tentatively he moved his face closer to hers, as if a mental struggle was going on with in him (as it probably was). He could fell her soft sweet breath touching his face, making the skin upon it prickle each time she exhaled. Although his eyes could not be seen, it just seemed that he was searching her with them. Searching her body, her mind and her soul with them, as if by looking at her they would be revealed to him. Suddenly a pang of emotion seemed to rip through the room and a kiss seemed immediate as his face was just inches from hers, practically a definite. Maybe it would have been if only he wasn't Albert Wesker, if only he could have done this, but he was who he was and so he couldn't. Suddenly he pulled back from her lips, as if slapped by some invisible person or force. Slapped into stopping himself from what he was about to do. Maybe it shocked him, worried him, scared him even, after all it was one of the things that left you when you became a tyrant, emotions that is (at least that was the idea). Whatever the reason he stopped himself from giving into the urges he felt. If he would have taken any action at that time would remain a mystery for the moment was lost because as soon as he stopped himself a wave of tiredness suddenly washed over him, mostly likely being a body reaction as it still needed to heal. His body gave his mind no time to reflect over his near actions and as he resumed his original position within the bed he had no chance to think about the kiss that almost was as he fell back into a long deep sleep.
***
Claire's wakening was much different than Wesker's. Weary, tired eyelids were gently forced open to reveal blue, azure eyes that shone brightly despite what the mind and body behind them had recently endured. However she woke, dazed and disorientated, her mind unsure of where she was or why she was there. Impairment of the mind was one of the effects of the virus causing regression of it into a zombie like state. However the serum had managed to combat this to a certain degree....but the mind still needed time. Time to adjust, time to recover, time to heal after it's prolonged slumber. Her mind at that point felt heavy and dense, like a thick haze, no more like a fog had descended upon it, covering it, clinging to it, choking it, not allowing it to think. And her body felt cold, numb and oddly detached from the rest of her, as if the two were completely separate.
Thoughts, feelings and emotions were of course present although they were in a state of disarray and this was audibly confirmed when utterings of confusion, mummers of delusion and groans of unawareness could be heard, rebounding loudly around the previous silent room as she shifted her slow, tired body in the bed. Her body might have been slow and sluggish but her mind was completely alert, it always was (perhaps too alert at that moment for it was terrible hyper-active). And it was one single repetitive question that ran through it, parting the mental fog that clouded her mind as it went. *Where am I?, Where am I? Where am I-* and then she felt it, then she felt him.
She could feel it, an icy weight that was nestled on her back, putting a small yet immediately noticeable amount of pressure upon it. This weight was feeling increasingly cold and artificial as the seconds passed, it just took her breath away. It was if it was metal, metal that was sucking, stealing, robbing her body heat from her for itself, as if- and then she saw them and really started to panic. A pair of arms were pulled around here lower chest holding her to the mass that led against her. Arms that looked unnaturally white, arms that looked too unreal to be human, which only left the fact that they must be dead. Without really thinking at all, at least not rationally, her body took over as her mind panicked and she instantly began furiously and anxiously beating against what had attached itself to her (with a remarkable amount of strength and power considering). This was quite plainly because with her mind still in a state of reduced awareness of what was going on, and it's thoughts incoherent, she actually believed that the thing attached to her was in fact a monster getting ready to deliver its fatal blow, so she struck out at it.
As Claire's blows rained into him Wesker too woke again, albeit with a sudden start this time. He had no time to think, no time to listen to his human side (?)... and it showed when with a primal, instinctive cry that only served to increase and elevate Claire's own fears he brought one of his arms to grasp both of her own and another to her legs to cease her feverlent kicking and pry her from him (as by now each's limbs were wrapped and tangled around the others). It was only then as she was firmly held in one place that the last of the haze cleared for Claire and she realised who it was in fact that she had been attacking. "Wesker?", she both questioned and stated in a weak, croaky voice, "Wesker is that you?". Silence as the other too adjusted to the situation, and then the grip lessened as he replied somewhat rhetorically "Who else were you expecting?". It was all Claire could do to stop herself from laughing as it dawned on her what she had in fact done, attacking a Tyrant, attacking Wesker. However she willed herself not to, it would hardly be wise, she was lucky he hadn't killed her. Now fully awake the events of not so long ago began to flash and form once again in her mind and she turned from where she was resting on her side to her back, finally propping herself up to look around the room with an unspoken curiosity. Wesker taking the initiative told her flatly and to the point "When that thing attacked it knocked you unconscious and I brought you here.. understand?". Claire looked a bit bewildered as she quickly took in the inadequate information, questions already beginning to form. "But I was infected.. what about the monster, is it dead?.. And where's here?" the questions came out of her mouth as soon as she thought of them. "One you were, two no and three here is another room in this Goddamn place" Wesker replied systematically, then feeling the obvious need to elaborate told her "You were infected I treated you with some serum I found in this room, rather fortunate for you. The monster let us live, I don't know why, probably got distracted or something, else thought we were dead. And we're not very far from where it attacked us". The information was more sufficient this time but still not enough, Claire however decided that it would not do to push the issue further and decided to move on to other things. Here she was lying in a bed with her brothers' arch-nemesis, a dangerous, evil man. Hell Mr X of Racoon City was looking like a better and even a safer option, at least then you knew where you stood. With Wesker anything could happen in an instant, he was completely and utterly unpredictable, history was proof of that enough. He was worrying, disconcerting and everything about him was unnerving.. he was-
*Wait a minute* part of her brain told her cutting into her thoughts like a knife (maybe it was the sensible part), *Your SHARING a bed with him, your sharing a bed with Albert Wesker? Albert Wesker the S.T.A.R.S betrayer? Albert Wesker the Tyrant? Albert Wesker a man who has killed countless men and woman in the past and would do the same to you without a moments hesitation?....Risk factor?*. Right away a part of Claire instantly insisted to her that she make one of usual facetious comments to him in regards to the absurdness of the situation. She almost did, it had practically become an automatic reflex to do so after all. However this time she stopped herself as it would hardly have been a wise move under the circumstances. To do so would have wrecked the oddly relaxed atmosphere that had settled in the room, one without the usual sarcastic comments and unfriendly jeers, so she for once ignored her feelings. *Anyway* she told herself,*It's kind of nice to lie her like this.......wait what the hell did I just say?*. She couldn't believe what she had said and she must have visibly shown her disgust because Wesker suddenly asked "Something wrong". She looked at him shocked for a moment and then grinned despite herself. "I didn't know you cared Wesker" she said with playful sarcasm *Did I just make a joke?...with him?*. Silence and then Wesker did something quite out of character, he chuckled. It might have been short and quiet but it was still a chuckle, not a dark, evil chuckle but a genuine almost friendly laugh, as if sharing a joke with a friend or work colleague. "Who says I do" he replied light-heartedly "Just trying to keep the art of conversation alive in here...and us along with it". "Strange Wesker I didn't see you as much of a talker, funny that" replied Claire with equal wit although her voice was strained with tiredness *What the hell is going on here?*.
The room settled into a silence. Not a sharp uneasy silence that might have been expected previously but a gentle almost relaxed silence that filled the room slowly and quietly. Each made use of it, Wesker returned to his thoughts, and Claire sifted through hers, particularly those concerning the fate of the others, who she was growing increasingly anxious about. *God I hope they're alright.. no they must be, they're all fighters, if I survived then they've got to have.. I hope*. She gave herself small smile *I know Chris will be, I'm sure he's worrying more than I am, he always does.. I'm the little sister after all*. "He'll be alright you know" Weskers voice almost boomed into her thoughts "Chris was my best man after all, he's got some sense". Claire hurriedly turned around trying not to show her surprise, but clearly failing "How did you-" "Know? ..What can I say Claire your so predictable", Wesker said interrupting her as he spoke, "All you Redfields are". Claire had to strongly resist the urge to slap him, and it must have been visibly apparent to Wesker for he suddenly dropped the sarcasm that seemed almost permanent in his voice and said with complete seriousness "Look Claire you don't want me here, and I certainly don't want you here. However we both need each other to get out of here alive and we can't go on as we are. Neither of us has the strength or the stamina to argue at present, not after what happened and so I suggest we don't. What I'm suggesting Claire is a truce, just for now, just until we're out of here"
***
Meanwhile in another of the never-ending series of corridors the lone figure of Alfred Ashford could be seen stumbling blindly through it. Blood stained, covered and caked in both dirt and dust from the debris he barely recognisable as a member of the 'mighty' Ashford family. It was only anger which fuelled his struggle forward. Anger took the pain away, anger didn't make you think, anger kept him going. "They'll die, they'll all die, I won't be beaten. Alexia's will shall be done" he spoke in a barely audible voice, "My Queen will be appeased.. whatever it may take, no cost is too high for her".
***
a/n Well that's chapter 11. Personally I believe it's not as good as it should be, but that might be because I've changed it so much and only a go between chapter. Anyway about chapter 12, firstly I promise it will be up a LOT quicker than chapter 11 for obvious reasons. What do I plan for it? Well I think I'll concentrate on Claire's feelings as they really need to be explored and discovered by her. On a side note I've been planning this fic in terms of chapters. Don't hold me to it but I think I've got at least 7/8 chapters left to write...with plenty of angst and darkness to come. Update shall be SOON
Note- I do NOT own resident evil (I'm *really* sorry to disappoint if you thought otherwise)
Plot Note- Regretably due to the changing of FF.net's guidelines which I'm sure you've read I can no longer persue the nc-17 aspect of this fic. However as you will already know sex was never the main part of this fic, just a means to show how close the two became. So although I'm unhappy about it, the rules must be obeyed. This fic however will remain for as I have yet to get to the sex the changes it would make to the story aren't irreversible, indeed I can work around them by not include any graphic content on the two sleeping together. This is a blessing also as it means that this fic loses it's 'sleaze' image for being under the nc-17 list in the RE catagory. Once again I'm sorry and if you have a complaint I suggest you E-mail FF.net about it (I most likely shall). The new rating for this fic will be 'R', if you have an issue with that please E-mail me and tell me why.
a/n Yep it's time again for another update (FINALLY!!). It's been a while (actually its been a LONG time to the least) I know but I've been busy with school and also, and this is the main reason for the long update, I've had some problems with this chapter and it's taken some time to work through them (although even now I'm still not entirely happy with it). I've realised that people have actually been waiting for an update through E- mails I have received, so once again particularly to them, I'm sorry about the slow update. Also I thought I'd take some time off from writing this story and try and expand into some new fics (hopefully you have/you'll check them out). If you want to check them out, of want some info on them feel free to check out my bio for updates. Anyway I'm quiet sure that you've had enough of waiting so on with the fic (that's if I've got any readers left)
Chapter Eleven: Growing Closer
***
... Lies, love, passion, lust, sex, desire, intimacy.. can love, true love every form from these, like a rose into full bloom? Or is that this rose is forever destined to be crushed, broken, shredded, torn by the frigid winds that we cast upon it? Winds of doubt, jealousy, reality, distrust and plain human nature.
Even if it does exist then is true love perfect love? Not very likely. Romeo and Juliet were the characters of the greatest love story ever told, but tragedy stalked both of them throughout their romance and didn't stop until it reached their very graves.
No true love is a fragile, brittle and possibly even an evil thing. It does things to us that no other emotion can possibly hope to accomplish, maybe even surpassing the power of the deepest hate. It affects us in an utterly profound way, like nothing else can, like nothing else could, like nothing else would. And it's tainted, it seems only ever formed (or should that be realised) out of the miseries that pain, heartache and suffering bring to us.
Either this a very cynical or a very true statement to make. For these two though love, it was ever to be love, would have to withstand all of the above and more to stand a mere hope of lasting longer than a moment of passion when cares of reality were briefly cast aside...
***
Time passed in the dim room of the ruins of the underground facility. It might have been hours or minutes, seconds or days, possibly even an eternity, time had become immeasurable for the two that laid within it. Speaking of them what a sight to behold. A faraway spectator watching may have remarked on the scene within the room as being likened to that of two lovers firmly locked in a tight, tender embrace, both led on their sides the male holding the female gently in his arms so that she was lent back into his, her body and his entwined, seemingly one. Indeed it was seemingly picture perfect, however on little more than closer inspection it would become apparent that this was not the case, in fact it was very different.
On closer inspection you'd notice the perspiration that clung to each body, both drenching and bathing it in a film of cold, damp, sticky sweat. You'd notice their faces that periodically showed signs of the obvious distress and strain each was currently feeling. You'd notice (and almost be able to feel) the intense, powerful pain that struck and passed through each of them in lightning quick bursts, causing each to buckle and yield to its strength, pressure and virulence in a matter of seconds. You'd notice how each attack that the virus gave was steadily becoming stronger than the last and far, far more deadly. You'd notice how their temperatures rocketed and plummeted at alarming and almost unbelievable rates, one minute the skin of one felt like hell's fire, the next like burning cold ice. You'd notice their breathing, erratic, weak and shallow, each lung fighting for the precious air it so desperately needed. And you'd ultimately notice how (and on more than one occasion) it seemed due these factors that their bodies were about ready to give up on the situation they had mercilessly been flung into, slowly seizing up, surrendering, ready for the end. Then at last minute, how they were brought sharply back by some unknown force from that fateful brink, that edge where they seemed to hover in uncertainty. You'd notice how this was a very, very different situation, the room was full of pain not passion, willpower was keeping each one alive, not the love of the other.....at least at that time it was.
The danger the two faced was immense, seemingly deadly, both were all too aware of the virus's affects, previous experience was evidence enough. However as time passed that danger was dramatically reduced, thankfully (?). The seemingly iron grip that the virus had as it raged within their very cells and tore at their souls gradually weakened as their bodies fought successfully against it. Living colour returned slowly to parts of each body in order to replace the deathly white pale that had formed too readily in its absence. Their chests began to rise in a steady, controlled rhythm and both the waves of convulsions and blinding pain that ran through each body slowly lessened as the danger unwillingly and grudgingly passed.
Of course danger itself takes many forms and truly this was only the beginning of what they would both have to overcome, not just physically but mentally and of course particularly emotionally as well. What they stood to face would tear each of them apart although in very different ways (or perhaps it was only the way in which they faced it that was different). For a time though the problems remained simple and, in comparison, they were... until the series of events that were to take place in that room began and changed both their lives forever (and not necessarily for the better).
***
Perhaps somewhat unsurprisingly it was Wesker who woke first after recovering from the effects of the virus. It was almost certainly due to his Tyrant genetic make up that his body was the first to heal. Waking up was practically instant even with the events that he had recently endured, another advantage that the Tyrant virus brought. However although the body had healed the sharp, stabbing pain remained as if it had been intended by the bio-monster to serve as reminder of what had happened, and this soon became apparent as he shook off the last of the residual tiredness he was feeling. His mind was alert as well (a Tyrant after all often didn't have much time to think and make decisions.. that's is if they think at all and weren't driven purely by instinct) and thousands of thoughts cascaded into it within seconds. And of course undoubtedly the most predominant of these thoughts were of his own safety and welfare as he sought in his mind to remember what had happened. Well it only took less than a heartbeat to remember what had happened, that haunting face, those eyes, the pain, the fear.. he couldn't have forgotten if he'd tried, the image was forever engraved, forever etched within his mind. It didn't take much longer either to recall where he was or indeed who he was with, and his anxiety levels rose drastically as a result of this...although he didn't realise a the time the oddness of this, and wouldn't have admitted it to himself anyway. Forcing himself to focus his eyes which were more than slightly weary (not unlike the rest of his body) he looked at the girl he was holding in his arms. Watching her with eagle eyes he observed her, making sure that she was recovering and recuperating like himself. It was an unusual feeling for Wesker, to feel so.....protective, so concerned about another human being's life, and it was unsettling, it was something he wouldn't allow himself to acknowledge or indeed deal with, it was just too much.....and yet the feeling was still there.
He watched her for a time, tracing the contours of her delicate face with his hidden eyes, taking in all of the beauty before them. One might eloquently (and quite truthfully) of called it being completely captivated by her, Wesker quite obviously would have argued to the absolute contrary. His face remained as emotionless as usual as he gazed upon her, offering no clue as to what he might feel for her. He pulled it off so effectively that it seemed that she could just as likely have been his worst enemy as much as his best friend. However something changed in the room, his icy cold exterior was undoubtedly betrayed when he spontaneously shifted his position within the bed, ever so slowly and skilfully whilst his eyes were still upon her, so that he was looking at her head on. It was as if he was driven, compelled to do what he did next. Almost tentatively he moved his face closer to hers, as if a mental struggle was going on with in him (as it probably was). He could fell her soft sweet breath touching his face, making the skin upon it prickle each time she exhaled. Although his eyes could not be seen, it just seemed that he was searching her with them. Searching her body, her mind and her soul with them, as if by looking at her they would be revealed to him. Suddenly a pang of emotion seemed to rip through the room and a kiss seemed immediate as his face was just inches from hers, practically a definite. Maybe it would have been if only he wasn't Albert Wesker, if only he could have done this, but he was who he was and so he couldn't. Suddenly he pulled back from her lips, as if slapped by some invisible person or force. Slapped into stopping himself from what he was about to do. Maybe it shocked him, worried him, scared him even, after all it was one of the things that left you when you became a tyrant, emotions that is (at least that was the idea). Whatever the reason he stopped himself from giving into the urges he felt. If he would have taken any action at that time would remain a mystery for the moment was lost because as soon as he stopped himself a wave of tiredness suddenly washed over him, mostly likely being a body reaction as it still needed to heal. His body gave his mind no time to reflect over his near actions and as he resumed his original position within the bed he had no chance to think about the kiss that almost was as he fell back into a long deep sleep.
***
Claire's wakening was much different than Wesker's. Weary, tired eyelids were gently forced open to reveal blue, azure eyes that shone brightly despite what the mind and body behind them had recently endured. However she woke, dazed and disorientated, her mind unsure of where she was or why she was there. Impairment of the mind was one of the effects of the virus causing regression of it into a zombie like state. However the serum had managed to combat this to a certain degree....but the mind still needed time. Time to adjust, time to recover, time to heal after it's prolonged slumber. Her mind at that point felt heavy and dense, like a thick haze, no more like a fog had descended upon it, covering it, clinging to it, choking it, not allowing it to think. And her body felt cold, numb and oddly detached from the rest of her, as if the two were completely separate.
Thoughts, feelings and emotions were of course present although they were in a state of disarray and this was audibly confirmed when utterings of confusion, mummers of delusion and groans of unawareness could be heard, rebounding loudly around the previous silent room as she shifted her slow, tired body in the bed. Her body might have been slow and sluggish but her mind was completely alert, it always was (perhaps too alert at that moment for it was terrible hyper-active). And it was one single repetitive question that ran through it, parting the mental fog that clouded her mind as it went. *Where am I?, Where am I? Where am I-* and then she felt it, then she felt him.
She could feel it, an icy weight that was nestled on her back, putting a small yet immediately noticeable amount of pressure upon it. This weight was feeling increasingly cold and artificial as the seconds passed, it just took her breath away. It was if it was metal, metal that was sucking, stealing, robbing her body heat from her for itself, as if- and then she saw them and really started to panic. A pair of arms were pulled around here lower chest holding her to the mass that led against her. Arms that looked unnaturally white, arms that looked too unreal to be human, which only left the fact that they must be dead. Without really thinking at all, at least not rationally, her body took over as her mind panicked and she instantly began furiously and anxiously beating against what had attached itself to her (with a remarkable amount of strength and power considering). This was quite plainly because with her mind still in a state of reduced awareness of what was going on, and it's thoughts incoherent, she actually believed that the thing attached to her was in fact a monster getting ready to deliver its fatal blow, so she struck out at it.
As Claire's blows rained into him Wesker too woke again, albeit with a sudden start this time. He had no time to think, no time to listen to his human side (?)... and it showed when with a primal, instinctive cry that only served to increase and elevate Claire's own fears he brought one of his arms to grasp both of her own and another to her legs to cease her feverlent kicking and pry her from him (as by now each's limbs were wrapped and tangled around the others). It was only then as she was firmly held in one place that the last of the haze cleared for Claire and she realised who it was in fact that she had been attacking. "Wesker?", she both questioned and stated in a weak, croaky voice, "Wesker is that you?". Silence as the other too adjusted to the situation, and then the grip lessened as he replied somewhat rhetorically "Who else were you expecting?". It was all Claire could do to stop herself from laughing as it dawned on her what she had in fact done, attacking a Tyrant, attacking Wesker. However she willed herself not to, it would hardly be wise, she was lucky he hadn't killed her. Now fully awake the events of not so long ago began to flash and form once again in her mind and she turned from where she was resting on her side to her back, finally propping herself up to look around the room with an unspoken curiosity. Wesker taking the initiative told her flatly and to the point "When that thing attacked it knocked you unconscious and I brought you here.. understand?". Claire looked a bit bewildered as she quickly took in the inadequate information, questions already beginning to form. "But I was infected.. what about the monster, is it dead?.. And where's here?" the questions came out of her mouth as soon as she thought of them. "One you were, two no and three here is another room in this Goddamn place" Wesker replied systematically, then feeling the obvious need to elaborate told her "You were infected I treated you with some serum I found in this room, rather fortunate for you. The monster let us live, I don't know why, probably got distracted or something, else thought we were dead. And we're not very far from where it attacked us". The information was more sufficient this time but still not enough, Claire however decided that it would not do to push the issue further and decided to move on to other things. Here she was lying in a bed with her brothers' arch-nemesis, a dangerous, evil man. Hell Mr X of Racoon City was looking like a better and even a safer option, at least then you knew where you stood. With Wesker anything could happen in an instant, he was completely and utterly unpredictable, history was proof of that enough. He was worrying, disconcerting and everything about him was unnerving.. he was-
*Wait a minute* part of her brain told her cutting into her thoughts like a knife (maybe it was the sensible part), *Your SHARING a bed with him, your sharing a bed with Albert Wesker? Albert Wesker the S.T.A.R.S betrayer? Albert Wesker the Tyrant? Albert Wesker a man who has killed countless men and woman in the past and would do the same to you without a moments hesitation?....Risk factor?*. Right away a part of Claire instantly insisted to her that she make one of usual facetious comments to him in regards to the absurdness of the situation. She almost did, it had practically become an automatic reflex to do so after all. However this time she stopped herself as it would hardly have been a wise move under the circumstances. To do so would have wrecked the oddly relaxed atmosphere that had settled in the room, one without the usual sarcastic comments and unfriendly jeers, so she for once ignored her feelings. *Anyway* she told herself,*It's kind of nice to lie her like this.......wait what the hell did I just say?*. She couldn't believe what she had said and she must have visibly shown her disgust because Wesker suddenly asked "Something wrong". She looked at him shocked for a moment and then grinned despite herself. "I didn't know you cared Wesker" she said with playful sarcasm *Did I just make a joke?...with him?*. Silence and then Wesker did something quite out of character, he chuckled. It might have been short and quiet but it was still a chuckle, not a dark, evil chuckle but a genuine almost friendly laugh, as if sharing a joke with a friend or work colleague. "Who says I do" he replied light-heartedly "Just trying to keep the art of conversation alive in here...and us along with it". "Strange Wesker I didn't see you as much of a talker, funny that" replied Claire with equal wit although her voice was strained with tiredness *What the hell is going on here?*.
The room settled into a silence. Not a sharp uneasy silence that might have been expected previously but a gentle almost relaxed silence that filled the room slowly and quietly. Each made use of it, Wesker returned to his thoughts, and Claire sifted through hers, particularly those concerning the fate of the others, who she was growing increasingly anxious about. *God I hope they're alright.. no they must be, they're all fighters, if I survived then they've got to have.. I hope*. She gave herself small smile *I know Chris will be, I'm sure he's worrying more than I am, he always does.. I'm the little sister after all*. "He'll be alright you know" Weskers voice almost boomed into her thoughts "Chris was my best man after all, he's got some sense". Claire hurriedly turned around trying not to show her surprise, but clearly failing "How did you-" "Know? ..What can I say Claire your so predictable", Wesker said interrupting her as he spoke, "All you Redfields are". Claire had to strongly resist the urge to slap him, and it must have been visibly apparent to Wesker for he suddenly dropped the sarcasm that seemed almost permanent in his voice and said with complete seriousness "Look Claire you don't want me here, and I certainly don't want you here. However we both need each other to get out of here alive and we can't go on as we are. Neither of us has the strength or the stamina to argue at present, not after what happened and so I suggest we don't. What I'm suggesting Claire is a truce, just for now, just until we're out of here"
***
Meanwhile in another of the never-ending series of corridors the lone figure of Alfred Ashford could be seen stumbling blindly through it. Blood stained, covered and caked in both dirt and dust from the debris he barely recognisable as a member of the 'mighty' Ashford family. It was only anger which fuelled his struggle forward. Anger took the pain away, anger didn't make you think, anger kept him going. "They'll die, they'll all die, I won't be beaten. Alexia's will shall be done" he spoke in a barely audible voice, "My Queen will be appeased.. whatever it may take, no cost is too high for her".
***
a/n Well that's chapter 11. Personally I believe it's not as good as it should be, but that might be because I've changed it so much and only a go between chapter. Anyway about chapter 12, firstly I promise it will be up a LOT quicker than chapter 11 for obvious reasons. What do I plan for it? Well I think I'll concentrate on Claire's feelings as they really need to be explored and discovered by her. On a side note I've been planning this fic in terms of chapters. Don't hold me to it but I think I've got at least 7/8 chapters left to write...with plenty of angst and darkness to come. Update shall be SOON