Chapter 10: Arrangements

"Nash was listed as a wanted Umbrella man for six months after the Raccoon City incident," Rebecca said, staring at her computer screen. "But then his name suddenly drops from the record without an explanation."

"He might be going after Wesker," Leon reasoned. The tyrant's name coolly but cautiously fell from his lips. No one was anxious to mention Claire, and the name inevitably called her to mind. "After all, Wesker is trying to rebirth Umbrella and lead it, and he seems to want to take the company further than just supplying bio-weapons. If this Nash guy was involved, maybe he wants a piece of the action. Then again, the government was pretty eager to get their hands on anyone with knowledge after Raccoon. Maybe Nash switched sides." Leon recalled his own experience with US operatives, and he knew too well that they pragmatically employed shady individuals as long as they were skilled.

"Makes sense," Jill agreed. "And what about Brazil? Is there a plant in Brazil that we don't know about?"

"I think so," Chris answered. "But who knows whose lab it is? Wesker's playing multiple sides. Maybe it's S Agency; maybe it's a new player. Either way, it's probably his or treated like his when it comes down to it. I say we investigate it. It might lead to Wesker, at least."

"Chris, he doesn't have Claire," Jill cautioned.

"I know," Chris replied. "But Wesker is the one pulling the strings behind these biological outbreaks. He should be our main target." He scratched his head and lowered it toward the ground in frustration. "Damn it. If not him, who'd have taken Claire?" He was trying to keep her absence from affecting his work, but it wasn't easy. His frustrations were increasingly being piled onto Wesker for having taken her in the first place. There was also the issue of dealing with the partial blame he felt for losing her, but simply not knowing what had happened proved to be the most troubling concern.

Every spare minute that the team had was spent fishing for information, but there was simply none to be found, and work could not stop indefinitely because of it, not when so many other lives were on the line. Jill knew Chris was doing his best to keep a strong front and lead. She absolutely commended him for it.

"She's been seen with Wesker," Leon pointed out. "People might get the wrong impression. She didn't exactly look like a captive at the airport." The group turned to one another, and Rebecca's face grew animated with hope; however, it fell flat as Chris fingered his knife.

"Becky, Wesker's enemies aren't our friends. Most of them are people just like him." The younger woman sadly sighed.

"I'll see if my old government contacts know anything about other people who are after Wesker," Leon promised. "Some of them owe me a favor." The team settled business for the time and began working on the Brazil question. They hadn't made any progress in almost a week. Chris thought that life couldn't get more upsetting, but then a package arrived for him. Inside was Claire's bloody, pink jacket.

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Claire counted her days of captivity. 17. Damn. Shit. She wanted to shoot something. Even feeling a gun in her hand would have brought comfort. She had been in the new facility for four days now, and Wesker was almost always busy, as usual. She had her own bedroom this time—a real bedroom, with a dresser and queen-sized bed that even had a canopy. There were other rooms, but Wesker sat at a desk just outside the bedroom, working or pacing in thought. At that moment, he stepped inside to bring her lunch. It was customary to exchange a few words.

"Wesker, don't you think you've left Chris in limbo long enough?"

"Not quite, but we'll progress to the next stage soon." He always made it sound like a matter of business, and the confident, sometimes darkly sarcastic edge to his words never helped. Claire sighed and flopped down at her desk to eat. "How would you rate his anxiety after several days? Still high, I suspect."

"How the hell can you ask that? You think it will disappear if you let it go too long?" Wesker cocked his head, encouraging an explanation. "Wesker," she sighed, "He's my brother. We've been together forever. You can't spend all that time with someone, sharing secrets and climbing trees, looking after each other, and just forget it in several days. I mean," she seemed frustrated by his neutral face. "How would you react to having your sibling held hostage by someone?"

"My family is deceased," he casually informed. Claire faltered.

"Oh. Sorry." Pause. "I guess I expected that." Wesker was waiting for her again. "Well, you're always alone, and I don't hear you taking personal calls." The thought of someone calling and asking Wesker how his week had gone blew her mind. "It's sort of obvious that you don't have anyone." Wesker smirked.

"You say that with such distaste," he commented.

"For me, it is, but I guess you're okay with it. After all, having someone would entail caring about them," she scoffed. "You're not going to hit me if I tell you what I honestly think, will you?" She watched him solemnly nod and then carefully proceeded. "I can't imagine being alone. I've never every really been alone either, not with Chris. I could be offered everything in the world, and it wouldn't mean a damn thing if there was no one to trust and joke around with at the end of day. I think…I think you're a fool for sacrificing that to your ambition."

"You are entitled to your opinions, dear heart, as simpering as they are." Claire took a bite out of her sandwich and averted her eyes. Wesker was watching. "There are fresh clothes in the dresser." He left to return to his work while Claire fiddled with her own devices. She waited until evening to venture out of her room, and only after she had resisted the urge for several hours. The familiarity of her surroundings was simply suffocating her.

In the next room, the lights were off and Wesker's desk was empty. Claire moved forward into the darkness with only the light peeking around her half-closed door as a guide. It took her some time to realize that Wesker was lying on the couch, sunglasses gone and eyes closed. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she crept over to him. Apparently he did sleep once and a while.

"He looks so normal," she commented in a barely audible tone. He looked like any guy taking a nap. His chest rose and fell gently, and his lips were slightly parted. Claire couldn't help but watch, as if she were seeing something she might never see again. This was a Wesker she didn't have to fear. He was peaceful and not scheming or trying to humiliate her. The thought was somehow comforting. She didn't move for several minutes, and, when she did, it was toward his desk. Maybe she could find some useful information.

Her hand moved several papers aside. They were test results, she realized. The data meant little to her, but she was interested to see that Wesker's name was listed as the test subject. Was he running tests on himself? Claire was repulsed and went to restack the papers when a hand clamped down over hers. She froze, terrified as Wesker's lips neared her ears.

"What do you think, you're doing?" Claire could not move her hand from beneath his, and she found her voice had abandoned her. "I asked you a question, Miss Redfield."

"I was looking around," she said nervously. Having Wesker's presence so close to her back made her squirm. "Just curious." The pressure on her fingers increased painfully.

"You are a slow learner," Wesker mocked. "Apparently past pain does not dissuade you from challenging me." Claire said nothing. The steel in his voice was too dangerous. "There are no points for effort in this game. If you sit back and wait for Chris to come, you'll be back to reciting literature without a scratch."

"I can't do that," she managed to squeak. "I won't be hit back and forth between you two like a ball." She was surprised when Wesker released her hand and pushed her toward her room.

"Inside." She scurried to do as told. Entering the room, she froze as Wesker trailed in behind her. He tossed his shirt on her desk, exposing his bare chest. Her body tensed, and her palms became sweaty as he removed his boots. "Miss Redfield, I am not going to take advantage of you, so stop looking like you're going to faint." Claire cast him a doubting stare as she backed toward the other side of the room. "My mind needs rest after so many days of constant work, and this is my building, so I will sleep where I like." He flicked the lights off.

"I'll leave you to it then," Claire trembled, heading for the door. It was locked.

"Unfortunately, you can't be trusted," Wesker smirked as he slid into the bed. He closed his eyes and listened to her move about in the dark. He had intended to rest for but a moment on the couch while he gathered his thoughts; but he had apparently expended himself in testing more than his body could handle without some form of compensation. And he wasn't about to follow Claire's preferences when she was annoying him. "Dear heart, you are being unreasonable," he stated as he heard her try the door again. "I already gave you my word that your virtue is safe with me."

Claire sighed and slowly moved toward the bed. She reasoned that she would gain nothing from sleeping on the floor except a sore back. Wesker smirked in the darkness as she too slid under the covers. She could see his outline in the dark, and she held her breath and counted as she tried to calm herself. "I kick, so don't hurt me. I can't control it," she warned. The nightmares came frequently since entering Umbrella's world, and, from what Jill had said, it was fairly common for all of the survivors. Claire pulled the blankets close about her chin.

She slowly fell asleep. Sometimes she tossed or turned, and her skin would brush Wesker's. She did not realize that her head, at one point, rested against his shoulder. It had awoken him, as her every movement did, but he did disturb her. She needed the sleep as much as he did. He knew that she worked excessively to keep her body ready for combat, and she cried sometimes, exhausting herself further. His night vision was improved from his human years, and he examined her sometimes peaceful, sometimes torrent features.

Her continued defiance could not be allowed to go unchecked; he didn't allow anyone to get away with that. If there was one thing he hated more than anything else, it was having his authority questioned. The trait had even shown through while in Stars when he made his team run laps for the slightest infringements. Others had not gotten off nearly so easily. But, he had to admit, Claire's spunk made things more interesting. Yes, if Claire had been the perfect, submissive captive, she would have earned his contempt and easy dismissal. But standing up to a man who could break her? Idiotic, but brave, very similar to Chris.

However, unlike Chris, she exposed a softer side at times that someone like Ada Wong would have died to hide. Yet Claire did not seem to mind; she turned those emotions into a spirited resistance. That spirit coupled with her spur of the moment abilities, as he had witnessed while she was in Nash's hands, were complimentary. Wesker saw her potential to be a more formidable foe than her brother, and he suspected he would eventually kill her one-day when she followed Chris's footsteps. Such a waste. She jerked her head to the side and back into his shoulder, where she buried her face. Miss Redfield was a very interesting person indeed.