Chapter 8

He waited patiently, watching her face raptly as the claim he had just made sunk into her brain. Love was foreign to him; he didn't know if it was true. He didn't care if it was. She needed to believe it, and he needed her to believe it.

Wesker felt something for Claire; he just wasn't sure what exactly it was. Labeling it had been for her benefit. Perhaps he was fond of her, he'd admit to that. She was beautiful, smart, and an absolute tigress in bed; everything about her turned him on. Yet, Wesker was a consummate scientist; his mind never shutting down. He knew the importance that a female placed on feelings, knew that if he implanted the suggestion of love, that she would more than likely fall into his arms all the more willingly.

"I-I don't..." She started, but he cut her off with a passionate kiss; drawing her lips into a sweet embrace with his own. Claire melted against him, bringing her hands up to cup his face, and his heart thumped erratically against his ribcage.

Wesker pulled back slowly, staring into her gray-blue-violet eyes.

"You don't have to say anything. I know you don't feel the same." Planting doubt in her mind; reverse psychology. "It's strange. I captured you, only to have you ensnare me right back." Wesker pulled her into his arms, laying on his back. She snuggled close to him, and her scent wafted up to him; sweet and so much like flowers.

"You love me?" Claire's voice was faint, disbelieving.

"I do." He sensed his own sincerity in the answer; it was odd. Perhaps his claim had some validity to it. He processed that information, silently analyzing the thoughts that were racing through his head.

"I'm sorry that I don't love you." The words stung him unexpectedly. The heart in his chest constricted painfully; more painfully than it ever had before.

Wesker was silent, that would be his answer. He released his grip on her, turning over in the bed to face away from her, suddenly feeling out of control and more lonely than he was usually.

"Albert..." Claire whispered. She had used his first name.

"Go to sleep, woman. We have a long day ahead of us." His voice was cold.

I stared at his muscular back brokenheartedly, feeling as though I had wronged him. Had I hurt his feelings?

Wesker had feelings. The concept was entirely new to me, unbelievable. This had to be a ploy; and yet, somehow, I couldn't shake the suspicion that he was being honest with me. Maybe more honest than he knew.

Could he really love me? I had my doubts; this was a man who killed indiscriminately for his own personal gain, someone who I half expected to be able to kill his own mother just to get ahead. But maybe, just maybe, some shred of humanity was left in him. Perhaps I was judging him too harshly.

I reached out to touch his shoulder, only to feel him stiffen underneath my fingertips. As warm as his body was, the coldness of his reaction hurt me, sent shivers running down my spine. Sighing, I kissed his neck, trying to apologize with my body what my mouth could not say. Wesker's muscles loosened slightly, but he seemed bound and determined to ignore me.

Love. The memory of his eyes boring into mine when he had said that word came rushing back to me, and I felt sadness pressing in on me. My feelings for him; what little there was, I could never voice aloud; would never. When he touched me, I couldn't say no. But my head still was dealing with it's own demons. I ran my hand down his arm, trying to give him comfort. It was all I could do; I wouldn't lie to him.

I didn't love him.

Not yet.

"I don't love you, and I won't lie, Wesker. I like you, against my better judgment; despite all of the things you've done to me and mine. You've been honest with me so far as I know, and I believe you." I paused, kissing his cheek gently. "I still haven't forgiven you for Rockfort Island, you know. For Steve."

"Burnside?" Wesker's interest seemed peaked.

"Yeah." At that, Wesker turned, his face inches from my own. His scent came smashing across my face, almost making me forget about...well, whatever we had been talking about. I shook my head, feeling dazed.

"I was unable to revive him totally." I sensed him holding back some crucial piece of information.

"Totally?"

"The mutation was far too advanced; the T-Veronica virus had become unstable; the strain useless. The project was scrapped." Wesker's voice was methodical, sounding as if he were reading a text book aloud.

"Oh." That saddened me. Steve Burnside had saved my life, more than once. Steve Burnside was the only other human being besides my brother who had ever loved me. And now, Steve Burnside was dead; the small hope that Wesker himself had impregnated into my brain squashed in a single sentence. "It wasn't...painful?"

"No." Wesker answered simply, stroking my cheek with the backs of his knuckles. "Did you care for him?"

"He was a good friend. Just like Leon; he was there for me when things got really bad." Tears were welling up in my eyes. Wesker pulled me against his chest once more, kissing the top of my head lightly.

"Don't cry, dear heart. The past is behind us now."

He held me as I sobbed, and the last thing I remember before sleep invaded my senses was him humming a tune lightly, the song we had danced to the first night we had slept together.

Wesker stared at the sleeping form in his arms, Beethoven's 5th symphony still echoing in his head even as he had stopped humming it. Repositioning himself on his back, Wesker mulled over her words earlier, Claire's apology. His reaction to those words was dumbfounding. Pain hadn't registered itself in his brain in almost a decade; yet, it still felt as if his heart was bleeding into his chest, filling it up with a fluid that was nearly choking him.

The dramatics were absolutely unnecessary. This wasn't like him at all. He'd have to get a hold on his rampant libido, rein this attraction in. He frowned unhappily; he was acting as if she were a bitch in heat. The mention of that boy from Rockfort had made a red-hot veil of anger flash across his vision; an emotion that he had been familiar with his whole life: Jealousy. Another unwanted complication.

Still, the mind-numbing sex was a bonus. Their last bout had been exceptionally delicious; he felt himself growing hard at the memory.

Something was happening to him. Wesker sighed; this would require more tests; which would have to wait until they had arrived at the Cairo facility. He smiled.

Then he could focus on his primary objective: primitive insemination.

Reviewerique...this chapter is dedicated to you. Thank you for spoiling the next chapter...LOL, JK buddy! Love you really! I love all the people who are reading this! You are all my inspiration.! Review if you like or have any grammar/spelling suggestions.

My personal experience of the Resident Evil game series has been that Wesker DOES have feelings. He is only human, after all. Perhaps genetically superior in a way that none of us could ever understand; seeing as how we are not all perfect...but he wants to create a better world...and who wouldn't commend that? Even if it's sick and demented, he has a global way of thinking.

Just some food for thought, readers.

The Eskimo =)

P.S.-Sorry this is so short.