Chapter Four

Complication

Wesker's smug, inhuman features filled Chris' laptop screen, making his stomach churn. He couldn't believe how much he'd respected this man, once upon a time. From the time he'd entered STARS, Chris had put his own career advancement on hold, content to work under his coldly efficient Captain. He figured three years with Wesker would teach him more than ten anywhere else.

Well, he'd been right about that.

"What do you want, Wesker?" His tough-guy act sounded phony even to him, but Chris couldn't let it go. It would mean exposing too much of the hurt Wesker had caused him, caused all of them. All of his sarcasm, his anger, his levity, masked the question gnawing at his core: how? Not why, because he knew. But how could Wesker have betrayed them all?

Wesker would only laugh if he asked.

He was laughing anyway, that deliberate slow chuckle Chris had grown to hate. "I think the question is what do you want, Chris? And I suspect I have the answer."

"You have my sister, don't you." It wasn't a question.

Wesker inclined his head. "I have your sister."

Chris closed his eyes, wishing for a traditional phone line so Wesker couldn't see his raw terror. He knew it showed right through his every disguise. "I want to talk to her. I want to know she's okay."

"By all means. Miss Redfield?" He stepped out of view, leaving Chris staring at a gray concrete wall. It flickered once or twice -- beggers couldn't be choosers, and they'd been reduced to hacking their own dial up internet connection. But it would do the job.

There was the click of a restraint being released, and then he was looking at Claire, her face pale and frightened, rubbing her right wrist unconsciously. "Hey, Chris," she said in an almost normal tone. "I'm in trouble again."

"Yeah, I got that." He cleared his throat. They were each struggling to be strong for the other. "You okay?" he demanded gruffly. "Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head. "I'm okay. Chris, you need to get away from here. You have to..."

"I think that will do." Wesker seized her elbow and pulled her aside, not hurting her, but hard enough to show both Claire and Chris that he could hurt her if he wanted to. Claire's face vanished and Wesker's reappeared. Chris didn't even have to force anger at the exchange. "There you have it, Chris -- from the horse's mouth, so to speak. She hasn't been badly treated -- yet."

He closed his eyes in defeat. "What do you want, Wesker?"

"What do you think I want, Chris?" Rage suddenly bubbled beneath Wesker's cool, controlled voice, the lurking insanity making itself known. But he managed to restrain it. "I want a reunion with my old friend."

Chris nodded, still without looking at the screen. "When and where?"

"I'll send you coordinates for the switch. You may bring someone -- someone, Chris -- to transport her elsewhere. Not that I care how many of you I have to kill, you understand. Perhaps Jill -- or Rebecca. I haven't seen them in quite some time. And since we're reminiscing, how is Barry's family these days?"

His jaw set, Chris simply severed the connection. There was nothing to be gained by further conversation.

The former STARS had comandeered a sleazy motel room near what used to be Raccoon City and were using it as home base. A long silence filled the room, emphasizing the repetitive thudding of the headboard against the wall in the room next door. "He's completely lost it," Barry said at last. "I mean, I knew he was a treacherous, conniving bastard. But he's actually crazy, isn't he."

"He'd have to be, to do what he did," Jill replied. She laid a hand on Chris' shoulder, but he shook it off, unable to see the hurt look on her face. He couldn't bear the distraction. He had to think about his sister.

"Transfer coming in," Barry announced, wheeling his chair over to a computer.

Chris nodded, not bothering to raise his head. His fists shook. Claire was in danger again and it was his bloody fault. It had been his fault she'd come to Raccoon City, his fault she'd wound up on the island base, and now it was his fault she was Wesker's prisoner. It was even his fault Wesker knew she existed, when you came right down to it.

He glanced at Jill and found her chewing on one ragged fingernail, something she only did unconsciously, and only when she was very upset. "You okay?" he asked.

She started. "Chris... why does he hate you so much?"

"Who doesn't he hate?"

"Oh, he hates all of us," she agreed. "But especially you. Why?"

Chris could only lift his hands helplessly. "I don't know."

"Damn it!" Barry swore. "I lost the connection. Someone keeps trying to call us."

Chris shot to his feet, Jill forgotten. "Well, figure out who it is and tell them to get off the damn line!" At that moment the phone rang again, and Chris snatched it up himself. "What?" he almost yelled.

"Where the hell is Claire?" snarled the voice on the other end, and Chris almost dropped the phone. As if they didn't have enough problems already...

-----

As he approached, presumably with the intention of cuffing her to the railing again, Claire backed away. A smirk crossed his face. "You wouldn't be trying to run from me, dear heart?"

"Where am I going to run?" she demanded irritably. And it was true -- as far as she could tell, the place didn't even have a door. She changed the subject before she could provoke him further. "Don't you eat anymore, Wesker? Sleep? Drink?"

He paused, his head cocked to one side, and then his features relaxed in comprehension. "As it happens, I don't." In a silent movement she didn't see, he closed the distance between them, one of his huge hands swallowing her wrist. "If you continue to behave yourself, though, I may allow you those privileges." And he dragged her back to the railing and imprisoned her there before she could say another word.

Claire swallowed the retort on her lips as he stared down at her. She knew he would follow through on his threat, and her throat was already swollen, her tongue dry. How long had she been unconscious? How long had she been imprisoned here? She wanted food, she wanted to use the washroom, she wanted rest -- but more than all those things she desperately wanted a glass of water.

Or a small lake. Whichever. And if he didn't provide it soon, she was terrified she'd start begging.

Why the hell didn't he move away? She huddled in the corner, her arms clasped together to keep them from trembling, and he just stood over her, watching her, like some twisted guardian angel.

After another minute she couldn't take it anymore and closed her eyes against him.

She heard his small grunt of satisfaction as he walked away and realized that had been all he wanted, her fear, her surrender. God, she hated him; she hated him with a passion that almost trumped her fear. She had never known another person so completely, utterly evil.

But then, he wasn't exactly a person anymore, was he?

Exhausted, Claire sank back to the ground, resting her head against her bent knees. She had no doubt her brother would go through with whatever exchange Wesker demanded, and then Wesker would kill Chris -- slowly, by the sounds of things. She couldn't let that happen. Somehow, she had to remove herself from the equation.

But how?