Chapter 6: Breaking and Entering

Claire didn't sleep well the following night. Chris accidentally woke her up from the little sleep she had managed to get while he was getting ready for work. Shuffling down the hallway like a zombie, Claire decided to make some coffee. She rummaged through the fridge after getting the coffee started and found some bagels. It wasn't much, but she was sure her brother would enjoy one before work. The coffee was almost done brewing as Chris appeared in his uniform, socks and shoes in his hands.

"Hey Sis, surprised to see you up and about. Have you seen my wallet anywhere?"

"Good morning to you too, Bro," Claire teased with a smile. "Your wallet's on the kitchen table."

"Thanks," he mumbled through a long, contagious yawn. "And good morning!"

Chris hadn't said much to her about her "disappearance" yesterday. After Wesker brought her took her to a phone, he hovered nearby as she called Chris to feed him her fake story. She told him she had dropped the truck off at the RPD while she went out with some friends and would be dropped off when it was time for Chris to come home. Though Claire only had a few friends that lived in Raccoon City, Chris didn't know all of them.

Chris believed her, just like he always had. He admitted being a little embarrassed for sending the cavalry out to search for her over something so harmless. Claire pretended to laugh it off, telling him it was no big deal. When truthfully, it was far from it. Claire was knocked out and nearly killed within the walls of the police station, on the same floor that Chris was having his morning meeting and coffee.

Wesker dropped her off a block away from Chris's truck after that, warning her that Chris would get in an "unfortunate accident" had he learned Chris became suspicious of her story. He commented on having to "deal with Irons". Claire wondered if the corrupt Police Chief would end up dead or mysteriously vanished. She would have to wait and see.

She watched as Chris tied his boots while sitting on the couch. He looked tired, but otherwise happy, blissfully unaware of the horrors Claire had gone through in less than 48 hours. He got up and proceeded to strap on his supply belt and gun. Claire scooped up his wallet and handed it over to him when he sat down at the kitchen's bar to eat his bagel. The siblings enjoyed a simple, quiet breakfast side by side. They hardly spoke, mostly chewing and drinking in deep thought, the sound of the house's heating unit kicking on creating a soothing ambience.

Claire chewed on her bagel, fretting. At first, she wondered what she was going to do today, but then she corrected herself on how she would survive today.

"So, what do ya want for Christmas?"

The question came out of nowhere, and Claire shook out of her thoughts. "Huh? Oh, I don't know. What do you want?"

"Don't twist this around! I asked you first, Sis!"

I really want to save both our asses from the trouble I got us into that you don't know about …

At this rate, Claire or both of them would be dead before Christmas, if Claire wasn't able to stop Wesker.

Claire smiled, reaching over and squeezing his arm, heart aching. "How about I think on it today?"

"Fair enough."

Chris downed the rest of his coffee. Claire made a face at the scalding stunt. He took their empty dishes to the sink and was about to wait at the door for Jill, when he suddenly halted.

"Crap, I forgot to write down Richard's new address," he said. He walked over to one of the drawers in the kitchen and pulled out an address book. After fishing out a scrap piece of paper from his pocket, he got a pen and scribbled down the new information after flipping through a few pages.

Curious, Claire walked over. She had never noticed the address book before. "New address?"

"Yeah, he moved to a new house. It's protocol that we keep up to date addresses and phone numbers of all the STARS members on hand at home. Just in case of an emergency or anything."

Chris finished writing and closed the book. He shoved it back into the drawer. By that time, Jill's car honked out in the driveway. Chris smiled bright, turned and went for the door. He ruffled Claire's messy bed hair as he walked by.

"See ya later, kiddo!"

"I'm not a kid!"

"You'll always be one to me, even when you're fifty!"

Claire stuck her tongue out at him, and Chris returned the face before shutting the front door and hopping into Jill's Mustang. The car pulled out of the driveway from behind Chris's truck, and headed for the police department. Claire watched from the window as they drove away, thinking about what to do next. She could try and go back to sleep, but she didn't see that happening.

Her curiosity got the best of her, and she withdrew the address book from the kitchen drawer once again. She flipped through the pages. This address book was strictly for STARS members of both Alpha and Bravo teams. The names were listed in alphabetical order by last name. Chris's handwriting always looked like chicken scratch, but she had grown used to reading it. She could make out names, addresses, and phone numbers for every STARS member that worked at the RPD. The final name in the back brought her to the Captain of Alpha Team and Leader of the entire STARS Department. It read: Wesker, Albert. 1251 Aspen Circle West. Raccoon City, Colorado. Phone number: 765-555-9065.

Claire knew the neighborhood. She had a friend that once lived near there. Aspen Circle was on the west side of a nice, upper-class suburban area. It was more for people who made a lot of money. Her friend's parents had been a surgeon and a restaurant owner. Somehow, STARS Captain didn't come off as being that profitable. Of course, whatever conspiracy Wesker was involved with, whatever Umbrella had to do with it, he was a dirty cop, and she was sure he was getting payoffs and anything else.

Her Redfield brain internally fought over a plan that was forming. She slapped the address book shut and put it back in the drawer. Her scared, rational side told her of the high risks, of how many close calls she's had already trying to stop Wesker. That this would probably just get her killed. But her fighting, defiant side knew she had to do this. She couldn't let Wesker control her, make her cower in fear. She had to stop him, someway, somehow. She tapped her fingers on the counter, chewing on her lower lip.

I could break into his house while he's at work…I might be able to find some evidence that will expose Wesker, maybe bring this conspiracy to light. I can save me and Chris!

It was dangerous, highly risky, but at this point, she didn't know what else to do. Wesker obviously had some kind of plan for her. This meant she was on borrowed time, her chances of beating Wesker dwindling by the second. She might not have another chance like this.

Claire darted upstairs to dress and get ready. Aspen Circle was just a few blocks from here. She could walk to the address and find a way to break in. Jill had taught her a few tricks and techniques with lock-picking. If she remained inconspicuous, she should be able to get into Wesker's house easily, and have plenty of time to search for some evidence without getting caught.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Determination was set on her features, and she nodded at the present fighter. A true Redfield. I'm going to do this. I have to save us somehow!

Snow was everywhere, and the biting cold numbed her face. Claire had walked all the way to Aspen Circle on her own, bundled up in her parka and a scarf. She kicked at the snow on the sidewalk in her boots, slightly shivering. She kept her hood up over her head to protect her from the cold, and also to hide her face. The roads were freshly salted yet again. Claire was sure if they got anymore snow that bulldozers would be needed. There wasn't much traffic coming from the neighborhood yet. It was still early morning, which gave her an advantage. Most people were either still asleep or already at work.

She spotted Wesker's house in the circle drive. It was a two story house near the far side of the circle. It was a newer brick house, much like the others in this area. It had a private fence enclosing a large backyard. There was a two door garage attached to the house, but there were no cars out front in the driveway and there were no lights on in the house. Wesker had to be at the RPD before all the other Alpha team members, so there was no way he was home. The front door would be easy to walk up to, but Claire needed to break in through the back. She couldn't risk being spotted.

The other houses in the circle were silent, sleeping like their inhabitants. Claire anxiously scanned the windows of the neighbor's house, but there was no movement, no sign of life. She casually left the sidewalk, dipping between Wesker's house and the neighbor's.

Claire looked all around. The neighborhood was quiet; no dogs barking, no cars slushing through freshly salted roads, no doors opening or cars starting from nearby homes. She went to the gate of the private fence, finding it padlocked. Cursing, she looked the fence over. There were no breaks in the fence, not a single one she could slip through. The top was a good ten feet tall. She wouldn't be able to climb that without using something to help her. Getting nervous, she searched for something to use. She found a tall trash can leaning on the side of the garage soon after. She quickly went over to it and dragged it down to the fence. After swiping snow from its lid, she jammed it against the wood panels of the fence and climbed it, the bin wobbling beneath her. She climbed the fence and slung herself, dropping into the backyard.

Her pulse quickened when she landed in enemy territory, adrenaline flowing through her veins. Heartbeat pounding in her ears.

The ground was evenly layered with bright white snow. The large backyard had a metal shed and a fancy fire pit and a lounge area off from the back deck of the house. She left the snow, climbing the deck stairs to the back door. With a little turn, she found it locked. She glanced behind her to make sure she was hidden. The cover of the back deck and the privacy fence actually helped conceal her as she picked the lock. Carefully and quietly, she worked the lock, ear against the door. Jill's teachings managed to pay off as Claire heard the hollow click of the back door unlocking.

With a shaky breath, she stood up and opened the door, letting it swing open in front of her. The warmth from inside seeped out in a tempting wind. She listened for a long moment, but the house was eerily silent, save for the distant ticking of a grandfather clock.

She decided to take off her slushy boots and coat to prevent leaving any signs in the house. She kept them on the back porch and slipped inside. When she shut the door behind her, she felt as though she had locked herself in the lion's den. The back room was a mud room and laundry room. She left it and the back door behind and walked through a small hallway into the living room.

Her heart raced within her chest, knocking in her ribcage and making her fingers shiver not from the cold, but from apprehension. She took slow, deep breaths to calm down and focus. She would find the evidence she needed and leave quickly and quietly. No problem.

The inside of the house was tidy and clean, with all wooden floors and area rugs. Brand new furniture turned up everywhere. One thing that Claire noticed quickly was that there were no personal pictures hanging up in frames. None of Wesker or his family or friends. It was mostly artful paintings or photographs. There were a few decorated officer trophies and awards on display as well.

She could see the staircase connecting to the second floor. This was a big house, both the ground floor and second floor. If it was anyone else's house, Claire could easily appreciate it's design and decor. Claire stood in the living room, lost and thinking of where to start first.

He must have a study or a safe or something that he would keep everything in. I should try looking for something like that first.

It was her best bet. She decided to scope the first floor first, then venture up to the second floor. As she headed for the first room, something small and colorful caught her eye. Furrowing her brows, she walked over to it. It was a child's backpack, and it sat neatly on an end table near the front door. It was pink with white polka dots. One of the straps had a dab of green paint, and there was a charm hanging off the zipper of a white cat. The letters "SB" were embroidered on the front.

"What the hell," Claire whispered, suddenly paranoid. No, she knew for a fact that Wesker didn't have kids, didn't have a significant other.

But then why did he have a child's backpack here? Judging by the style and size, the backpack was for a little girl between the ages of 9 and 11. Claire looked around the large, silent house. Did the child come across Wesker in the same way she did? Did Wesker have her locked away somewhere? Was she dead? Claire felt sick. Surely, not even Wesker would harm an innocent child. But there was no way to know.

As she thought over these fears, frozen, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she heard soft clicking on the hardwood floor, gradually getting louder as it came up behind her. Her heart jumped to her throat, ice shooting up her spine. Claire had grown up with enough pets to know that a dog had just come up behind her, the nails clicking on hardwood a distinct sound all its own.

Something tells me that it isn't a cute little terrier …

Claire slowly turned around. She hadn't even considered a dog. Wesker did not seem like the kind of man to like or own dogs. She gasped, gut wrenching, frozen in place. The large black and tan Doberman Pinscher stood just feet away, intense gaze locked on her. The dog had to weigh around a hundred pounds, with large paws and a sleek, muscular body. Its cropped ears were forward and alert, the docked tail straight up as its hackles bristled. The chain collar dangled tags in front of its neck. Rigid, the dog licked its chops.

Claire cautiously took a step back, swallowing the panic that tried to boil through her lungs. As soon as she moved, the Doberman bared its teeth, a deep, ghastly growl rumbling out of its throat. The white teeth were bright in contrast to its dark coat.

She had no chance to make it to the back door. She had no time to reach the front door and unlock it. Frozen in place, her mind raced for a way out of this situation. She tried talking to the dog to calm it.

"Easy, boy…down, boy…" her voice cracked.

Her eyes darted around for anything. A weapon, a room with a door, a window, something. The closest room was a bathroom under the large staircase. It was risky, but she had to try, she had no other option aside from taking the dog on one on one. She wanted to avoid that if all possible. If the Doberman knocked her to the floor she was done for. Not only was the Doberman a strong breed, it was an agile breed.

Claire loved dogs. And she could obviously see that this Doberman was trained to protect this house at any cost. She wouldn't be warming this pup over with belly rubs or treats any time soon. Which meant her life was really on the line if she made one mistake making a run for that bathroom.

She took a deep breath, eyes on the snarling Doberman and snatched up the nearby pink backpack. She made a break for it. The Doberman howled and gave chase, its claws scraping along the hardwood floor as it shot after her. Claire felt like a prey animal desperately trying to escape a hungry, pursuing predator. She was just inches from the doorway, arm reaching out to grab the door, when jaws latched around her ankle with crushing force.

She cried in pain, tripping face first into the floor. She twisted onto her back, clutching the child's backpack and putting it between her and the dog as it lunged for her throat. The Doberman clamped down on the bag instead, ripping and shaking it while its snarls rippled through her ears and its breath and drool hit her face. With one mighty kick, she flung the dog backwards. She scrambled to her feet and practically threw herself into the bathroom. As she tried to slam the door shut, the Doberman barreled halfway into the threshold, frothy jaws snapping and howling. Claire kept its head wedged between the door and the frame, straining to keep the door from opening any further. She kicked the dog in the face, a barely audible yelp sounding as it dipped back just far enough where she was able to shut the door. The Doberman bayed like a crazed beast, its claws desperately scratching at the door as it tried to force its way through.

Claire slid down onto the floor, noticing the blood seeping through her pants from the dog bite on her ankle. She hissed, the pain was intense, and flexing it made it worse. She looked desperately all around, but had found her luck only to worsen. The half-bath had no window or other door to escape through. The rectangular room was clean and organized with a toilet, sink and vanity and storage space. The ceiling slanted in correspondence to the stairs.

She let her head fall back against the wall, pissed and sore. Sweat rolled down her temples as she caught her breath. Her simple plan to break into Wesker's house and find some evidence had just turned into a nightmare. My luck has gone to shit at the worst possible time!

Her chances of escaping were slim to none. Groaning in pain, she got up and searched the half-bath, hoping to find something she could use. She grabbed a towel that was hanging above the sink, and wrapped it tightly around her bleeding ankle. She checked the cabinet, only finding some first aid items, including peroxide and rubbing alcohol. She noticed the small brown rug on the floor by the toilet, and then started thinking again. She needed to get out of here or she was finished. The dog had grown quiet, but she knew it remained on the other side of the door. Watching, waiting...

The rubbing alcohol can be used to knock the dog out if I can find something to soak it with. It will only last a few minutes, but it should buy me enough time to escape.

She grabbed up the rug. She poured the rubbing alcohol all over it. The strong , buzzing odor soon took over the bathroom. She limped back over to the door to ready herself. She cautiously turned the doorknob, swallowing hard and opened the door just a crack. The Doberman hit the door hard, resuming its snarling. Claire tossed the rug onto the dog's head, and grabbed its neck to keep the rug on tight. The dog was extremely strong, slamming her all around and snarling fiercely. Teeth grazed across her hand in the scuffle, her grip slipping from the rug. She ignored the pain that shot up her arm and prayed the rubbing alcohol would hurry up and work.

Finally the attack dog started slowing down, getting disoriented but still growling until it collapsed on the floor unconscious. Claire didn't even bother to lift the rug from the dog's head, she quickly got up and dashed for the back door of the house to get her stuff and leave. She ignored the pain that shot up her ankle as she moved, only her adrenaline taking the edge off.

In her haste hobbling for the back door, she slid to a halt as she heard the front door unlocking and opening. Panic seized her once more. Bleeding and exhausted, she knew her day was about to get a whole lot worse.

Wesker hadn't even been at work for two hours before he got the alert on his pager that the security system in his home had gone off. It was a little something he put up to alert only him. Unfortunately, Wesker had to store some valuable information in his house that would not be safer anywhere else. He went through a lot of money to ensure the quality of the silent security system. That, and his Doberman Pinscher, Odin, was extremely well trained under his command to protect the property. The dog had killed two Umbrella lowlifes in separate incidents who thought they could break into the house to find something to use against Wesker or William.

The Alpha team gave him questioning looks as he got up to leave and left Barry in charge. He told them that he had important matters to take care of and should be back within a few hours. Wesker knew it all depended on the situation once he got over to his house. He trusted that Odin took out the intruder, and if they were still alive in his house then Wesker would dispose of them like any other. He left the RPD and drove for home in his Jaguar. He pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. He studied the front windows and door carefully, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. When he unlocked the front door and opened it, he was not greeted by his Doberman as usual.

The house was eerily quiet, and the smell of rubbing alcohol filled the air. He looked down towards the staircase and found his dog unmoving on his side. Blood was all over the floor with the bathroom door open wide. A faint crash came from the back of the house, and he quickly pursued it. He caught Claire Redfield just as she was opening the back door, a small blood trail following her. Wesker aimed his gun at her, his voice freezing her in place.

"I wouldn't dare it, dear heart."

She slowly turned, noticing the barrel of the gun not far from her face. Claire's eyes burned with defiance - the defiance he adored - despite her predicament, and she kicked the door shut with her uninjured leg, hands slowly raising where he could see them.

Wesker took in her physical condition. Her ankle was bleeding, even with a towel wrapped around it and her left hand was covered in blood as well. Wesker sighed with one strong shake of his head. He holstered his weapon, silently gesturing towards the living room. Claire slowly and quietly obeyed, her bravado retracting some, as though she now realized the severity of her situation.

"You really know how to get yourself into trouble, Ms. Redfield. Did you think you were going to break into my house so easily and find something to save you and your brother?"

They came back to the bathroom where the Doberman remained motionless on the floor. While Claire fiddled with her fingers nervously, Wesker bent over to see if Odin was still alive. After securing that, he straightened back up, glaring at Claire through his sunglasses.

"So, you break into my home, get blood everywhere, knock out my precious Doberman Pinscher, and attempt to escape right under my nose. You sure have a lot of explaining to do, dear heart. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now just like I did with the other unfortunate souls who tried it before you."

"You got it right. I wanted evidence to use against you," Claire grumbled.

Wesker lifted his arms, motioning all around him. "Go ahead, try it. Let's see what you can find."

Claire didn't move, eyes lowering, too weak and hurting to fight him. In an instant, the Doberman came to, sitting up and snorting. He got to his paws and shook himself. The dog continued to sneeze for a moment until he noticed his owner, and the docked tail started to wiggle. Odin walked over to Wesker and licked his hand before sitting on his haunches and peering at Claire. He growled softly, baring fangs, but Wesker hushed the dog with a command.

"Odin here has killed two men who broke into this same house on different occasions, looking for the same thing you seek. You should count yourself lucky, Ms. Redfield."

"So what are you going to do to me?" Claire asked, nervous.

Wesker laughed, the sound unnerving her. She limped backwards when he approached her with a leer, flinching whenever he placed his fingers around her slender throat, so tempted to squeeze. "At this rate, you should be asking what I won't be doing to you, dear heart."

She squirmed and shivered under his touch. Wesker warned her with one sharp squeeze.

"As much trouble as you are in, I still must applaud you. You are probably the bravest young woman I've ever met, albeit quite foolish. Your continuous plans to try and escape from me prove entertaining, and I am impressed that you managed to think up of something as clever as knocking Odin out with rubbing alcohol, and succeeding at it as well. But, as I've warned you before, this bravery and determination of yours will get you killed sooner than you think, one way or another."

Wesker had to force himself to take his hands off her. Her soft skin was oddly addicting to him.

Claire lowered her eyes, slowly nodding. "I understand."

"Now, I better get you cleaned up. I need to go collect my supplies upstairs." He looked down to the Doberman, who cocked his head and watched his master intently. "Watch."

The single word made the dog snort, and Wesker turned and left up the stairs. Claire watched him go before glancing back down at the Doberman. Odin peered at her with full attention, ears pricked forward, eyes bright, but no sign of aggression even after their violent scuffle right here in the middle of the house. The intelligent guard dog kept Claire in sight, a breathing statue, until Wesker returned with a large first aid kit. He motioned her to the nearest couch in the living room, and she sat down.

Wesker sat down across from her on the coffee table, grabbing her injured leg and pulling it into his lap. He unwrapped the towel after opening the kit and removing his sunglasses. Odin sniffed Claire curiously with his tail slightly wagging. Claire didn't notice at first, face red as Wesker's hand skimmed her ankle in his lap. Odin's wet nose finally caught her attention. Claire watched the Doberman warily as he sniffed her with a completely different demeanor before he left to go lay down nearby.

"Don't worry about him. He knows that you are a guest now," Wesker stated.

Claire looked away from the bite on her ankle, it was already swollen and bruising. She wasn't easily squeamish. It was more how Wesker had her leg propped in his lap, and the way his hands moved across her skin.

"Funny," she stated tartly. "Didn't figure you as a dog person."

"Apparently, we have much to learn about each other, wouldn't you agree, Claire?"

The way he said those words made her spine freeze up, but also made her stomach flutter like a thousand butterflies. It was the first time he referred to her by her first name, and it was both terrifying and enticing...

A/N: Oh dear, Claire has the worst luck! xD