Wesker had left her in a small medical room, completely furnished with four white bare walls, a long wooden table and a medical chair that had thick straps hanging from the corners. She shuddered. How many people were used for testing down here? The room was relatively clean; she half expected it to be covered in blood and random body parts. She sat on the chair, letting her feet rest against the legs of the chair that were bolted into the ground. She began thinking about how it must have felt for any poor soul that was left behind being trapped in here. Had it been her, strapped down, being injected with numerous needles and having machines hooked up to her, she would have gone mad. She looked at her hands with newfound respect. It wouldn't take much to rip herself free, and to escape.

He had told her that she wouldn't mutate into a monster, and she believed him. It was so tempting to leave, to go back to Chris and the others. But she couldn't live like this. She wasn't able to feel anymore... the human part of her was dying. She thought about all the happy memories that would usually bring her joy, but now she couldn't feel that warmth in her heart. Even smiling had lost its meaning. She didn't feel the need to smile or laugh. How long would it be before she wouldn't be able to feel regret, sadness, guilt... or maybe that was all she was capable of feeling now. Was that why Wesker had become the man he is?

Even when he was the corrupt captain the STARS team, he must have felt things. He must have cared for something at one point in his life. He had told her that his parents were never around, or at least that was how she had understood their conversation on the ride to the mansion. How young was he when he began to feel abandoned? Could he actually have become a caring and honest man if he wasn't raised by the ways of a tainted world? There were so many questions, and there were so many scenarios that ran through her mind. But this is the path that Wesker had walked down whether he intended to or not, and she had to deal with it.

One of the doors had slid open, and Wesker walked in with a laptop and a small metal case. He set them on the table, and turned the laptop on. "I require a blood sample, Miss Redfield," he said in that monotone voice of his.

Claire stood and rolled up a sleeve, wondering what was going on in that crazy head of his. He was the same man, but his "moods", if she could call them that, had changed. When they were together, Wesker was gentle, but not romantic. He kissed her many times, but there was no passion. Perhaps, he just wasn't capable of being either. She no longer hated him, but at the same time, she did not love him. The connection between them held no emotion or feeling, but she believed that if she was not infected, she would have fallen for him like a love sick school girl. A thought struck her.

"Wesker..." she asked.

"Yes, Miss Redfield," he said, preparing the syringe.

"Do you remember when you were a kid? I don't know why it's important or relevant to anything... but do you remember what your favorite candy was?"

She could feel his questionable gaze through the dark sunglasses. He cocked his head to the side, studying her, possibly to see if she was sincere in her question. "Completely irrelevant, dear heart." He grabbed a hold of her elbow, and she felt a bit of disappointment. "But if the answer interests you that much, I would have to say candy corn." She blinked twice, unsure if she heard him right.

For the first time in several days, she felt the corners of her mouth turn up in a small smile. "Noted." She held out her arm and waited for him to stick the needle up her vein. "What are you hoping to find? I thought I was completely fine," she said. He had tested in almost every way possible. She had gone through emotional trauma, physical tests, and she had been poked and proded by various needles as well. What more could he possibly need?

Wesker took her hand and gently stuck the needle into her arm, watching the vial fill with her blood. "Answers," was all he said.

He pulled the needle out, and spilled a few drops onto a glass sheet he had pulled from his pocket. To her surprise, he took a blood sample from himself and added a drop to the plate, waiting for his blood to mix with hers. He set another sheet on top of it and set the pair into a slot on his laptop. "That's pretty nifty," Claire commented. The screen beeped to life, and Claire saw large cells moving in every direction. Shortly after, many of the cells began pairing into groups. They didn't combine into one, but the two cells were joined, unable to separate themselves from each other.

Wesker leaned on the table, his expression unreadable. "Miss Redfield, tell me how you feel."

Claire rolled her sleeve back down as soon as the small bruise had healed. "You mean physically?" she asked. "Or mentally?"

"Everything, and please be as detailed as possible."

"Well, there really isn't much to say," she said, turning and taking a seat on top of the table, keeping her eyes on the monitor. "I can't feel much anymore. I'm more aggressive, and it takes a while before I'm calm enough to control the violent urges I've been feeling. I'm good with only a few hours sleep every two days. I can't even feel the effects of temperature or pain, as I'm sure you've seen." She placed her hands over her heart. "Wesker... I can't feel. I try to reminisce about anything that's made me smile or cry, and I can't do any of those things. Even now, talking about all of this, I'd probably be crying at this point, but it feels like I don't even have tear ducts."

He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Yet you can feel this?" he asked.

She nodded, staring at the floor, confused. "It's strange. I don't feel the warmth of your hand, but I can feel something more than just a gloved hand brushing by my skin. What does that mean?"

"It means, dear heart," Wesker said, shutting his laptop, "that you and I are one and the same. I had not counted on the reactions of the virus in two separate hosts. It seems that the viruses that flow through our veins are reliant upon each other, hence, this "connection" we feel to one another."

"You've lived like this for so long," Claire said distantly. "How could you stand it? I'm sure there are things you miss when you were my brother's captain. Or has the promises of wealth and power blinded you that much?"

"That is a story for another time, Miss Redfield. One, perhaps I will tell you when the time is right," he said. He offered her his hand to help her from the table, and this time she accepted. "May I ask you one more question?" He did not pull away from her, instead, he kept her close.

"Depending on the question, I may have an answer," Claire teased. She fell further into his embrace when he placed one hand on her waist and kept the other intertwined with hers.

"Do you remember how you felt when we were dancing?" he asked, swaying her in a slow waltz.

Luckily, it had happened recently, so her memories of the event weren't completely lost to her. "I remember my heart beating like crazy," Claire said, moving with him. "I thought you smelled nice, and I was very nervous that such a handsome man would have asked me to dance with him. You were entirely too bold, but that also excited me as no one has ever attempted to pull what you did with me." No blush crept on her cheeks, there was no heat on her face. Rather than shyly let Wesker in on a secret, she was stoically stating facts. "Until I found out who you were, your arms felt... strong and protective, but also predatory." He dipped her, leaning over her.

"And now?" he asked.

Claire was pulled up a moment later. "We're just two people dancing to no music," she said simply. It was then that he let her go. He walked over to the table to gather the laptop and metal case. "So was this another test that I had to pass?" she asked following him out into the hallway.

"Indeed, Miss Redfield, but it was I who had failed."

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The empty hangar was filled with the pained cries of the Anti-Umbrella team's latest hostage. Chris twisted the man's arm even more, earning a few pops and cracks from his shoulder. "I am not going to ask you again," he growled. "Where is Albert Wesker?" He was so close to Claire; he couldn't afford to waste time like this. He didn't like torturing people who were more or less the bystanders Wesker used in his ploys, but he was desperate.

The pilot yelped in pain, clutching onto his chest. "I told you, I have no idea where he is!" he yelled. "He just comes and goes as he pleases. I just wait for his call." The middle aged man began to whimper, his face turned a deep shade of red.

Jill looked at Chris, impatient and just as irritated as he was. She jammed the barrel of her Desert Eagle into the back of the man's head. "Then tell us where he headed," she threatened. Chris knew that Jill had no intention of killing the man, but she was pretty damn scary when she was mad.

The man's face twisted in pain, and pointed out of the hangar. "West! He headed west!"

Chris let go of the man's arm and shoved him away. Becca began tying up his hands and legs. "What's west of us?" he asked Jill. She had taken out her PDA, and punched in the coordinates for the Battle Mountain Airport.

"Looks like nothing but forest," Jill said, scrolling through a generic map. "What a second... there's a structure here. Take a look at this." She handed him the PDA, and sure enough a small building was right there in the middle of the forest west of their location. At this point, he didn't care about taking Wesker down; he just wanted to have his sister back. But if Wesker happened to die in the process, he wasn't going to argue either.

"I'm up for a little adventure," Leon said with a determined expression. "I'll get a ride ready."

Chris nodded, and turned to Billy and Becca. "Can you two handle things here?"

"You got it," Billy said, keeping a gun on the pilot. "Try anything and I'll shoot you."

"Chris, you have to be careful," Becca said. She pulled him aside and kept her voice hushed. He could see the concern in her large brown eyes. "Listen... I'm still uncertain about the perfected virus in Claire. Yes, the virus did what it should, but there's still no telling how much of Claire is left, understand? She may look like Claire, but..."

Chris bit his tongue from lashing out. He knew Becca meant well, and she deeply cared about Claire's well-being, but it still hurt knowing that his sister could be dead. He had to see her one last time. Even if he had confirmation of her death, he would still go after her. Redfields didn't give up; they never abandoned those they cared about. He ruffled his hand through Becca's hair. "I know, thanks, shorty... We'll keep radio silence for now. Once we have Claire, I'll call for you."

Becca wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "Be careful."

It warmed his heart to have such a child-like member on his team. Regardless of Umbrella's impact on their world, there was still someone who wasn't afraid to bring down their guard for a moment to express how much they care. Becca had grown into a fine young woman, and yet she still had that childlike energy about her. "I'm not going anywhere. You and Billy be careful too." He gave Billy a small wave, and both men nodded to each other.

Leon pulled up in a small jeep, waving to him and Jill. "Let's go!"

He jumped into the passenger side, and Jill hopped in the back. Leon floored the accelerator, and the trio headed west, intent on find their missing team member.

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AN: BTW, happy new year to everyone. Hope you all had fun and enjoyed the festivities. Be safe, and hope for the best for 2009.