Author's Notes (Please read) – I know a lot of you have been waiting on an update for some time, and I'm sorry it's taken so long. For whatever reason, I have really been struggling with this chapter. It might be because it focused solely on Claire and Elliott instead of delving into what Wesker and his team were up to; I think I do better with an ensemble of viewpoints.

That being said, I've decided to share the parts I've written intercut with story notes about what happens. I feel that the remaining chapters for Tangled Web will be easier to get through and I'm hoping that the updates will be closer together going forward.

Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this (for-now) incomplete chapter. Perhaps one day I'll repost it in its entirety.

MysticWolf 71891 – Understatement. Hope this response finds you still healthy. 😊

Willson18 – Revelations are coming soon.

Scarease – I'm a bit curious why you assume I didn't know that.

Kozak – Thank you! That means I'm doing a fantastic job. :D

Sloksingh45 – Wish granted.

Chapter Thirty-Four

December 28, 2007

Allyson Channing couldn't decide what she hated most about the impromptu post-Christmas trip to Africa—the heat, the flies, or the fact that her boyfriend had up and ditched her two days in. Trevor's adventurous spirit might have led him to present the trip to her as a surprise Christmas gift, but it also made him to want, apparently to go exploring without her.

Thus, she found herself in what counted as a tavern, trying to drown her sorrows in a glass of cheap beer. The watery, almost-sour taste of her beverage was only making her more miserable. She fingered her cell phone, tempted to send a hateful message to Trevor. Not for the first time, she was inclined to think this vacation was more for his own enjoyment than hers.

The sound of someone loudly spitting out their drink at the bar made her blink and look over in surprise. It was soon followed by an equally loud, angry voice: "You call dis Vodka?!"

Allyson was by no means racist, but there was something heartening in seeing another couple white people in a strange African country. The Russian who'd made the outburst had another man with him who stated, "Calm yourself, Nicholai. Dis is vhy ve brought our own."

Nicholai nodded though his expression didn't change. His companion chuckled, turned and leaned against the counter; his gaze soon locked with hers.

Allyson looked away and blushed at the realization she'd been staring. Nicholai's friend didn't seem to care—he approached and sat down while she was silently admonishing herself. She blinked again and gaped at him for so long that she was surprised by the pleasant way he initiated a conversation.

"Curious to find a beautiful voman such as yourself drinking alone, especially in dis country." He tapped the table with his fingers. "Or are you expecting someone?"

She shook her head. "My boyfriend ran off somewhere," she said openly. Would serve him right if I hook up with someone else.

"He is a fool for abandoning you. I imagine dat means you'll not be staying here long."

Allyson blinked again at the thought of leaving. As pissed as she might be at Trevor, he still had the return plane tickets to the states. She quickly cast the thought aside and ran her fingers around the rim of her glass in a flirtatious way. "I might find a reason to stick around," she teased.

Her companion wasn't able to reply before his buddy Nicholai angrily called out, "Let's go, Anton! We have vork to do!"

She was curious to know what kind of work the Russians could have in Africa, but Anton was getting up before she could ask. Determined not to waste the opportunity, she blurted out, "Will you be in town for awhile?"

He smiled slightly. "Vorry not, dear one. Ve vill see each other again."

As much as Elliott hoped that Claire would mellow out after they'd had sex, she still remained distant three days later. And when he began to suspect that she wasn't sleeping—if her increased moodiness and the dark circles under her eyes was any indication—he started to feel he needed to do more than give her space.

He purposely turned his back to her and pretended he had nodded off come nightfall. He wasn't sure how long he lay there before he heard her tossing and turning; more than once, a heavy irritated sigh escaped her lips. But the bit that concerned him the most was when she growled out loud, "Get out of my head!"

Elliott partially turned in her direction. "Claire? Are you okay?"

She was silent for so long that he maneuvered to see her better, only to grow more worried when he saw how scared and wide-eyed she looked. He instinctively reached for her and was taken aback when she jerked away.

Elliott dropped his arm with a soft sigh. "What's wrong?"

Claire shook her head. "It's nothing."

"Please don't lie to me." When she didn't answer, he tentatively said, "I heard what you said just now."

"Oh, God, you did?"

He nodded. "I'm guessing 'Get out of my head,' is in reference to him. Am I right?"

She groaned and rubbed her eyes. "It's something I don't want to talk about, Elliott."

His jaw clenched and he sat up, fixing her with a hard stare. "Then what do you want to talk about?! What topic would satisfy you?"

"How about we just don't say anything at all?" she fired back.

Elliott fumed. "Damn it, Redfield! This is getting ridiculous! Why do you keep shutting me out? What the hell did I do that day to make you so upset with me?"

She glared at him for a moment before she said, "Don't…"

He cut her off. "Don't what?! Keep questioning why you're mad at me?" He sighed and rubbed his face. "If you want me to say sorry, I'll do it. I'm sorry I couldn't defend you against Wesker, physically or emotionally! I'm sorry I did such a crap job trying to cheer you up! I'm sorry I ran out on you when we fought! Is that good enough?!"

Whatever reaction he was expecting, he wasn't sure that the wide range of emotions at play on her face was one of them. Claire wrung her hands together and opened and closed her mouth several times before her eyes softened to some degree. He believed she was near tears when she said, "I had no idea you thought I blamed you for any of that."

Elliott paused. "I'm grasping at straws here, Redfield," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. "If it's not any of that, then why did things change between us?"

Claire turned her head away. For several seconds, it looked like her eyes were wandering around the room, focusing on anything but him. "I… I've been hearing Wesker's voice in my head," she said hesitantly. "You were right about that. It's like… I'm imagining how he'd react to a given situation. Like he's the one speaking instead of it just being my own thoughts."

He paused again, an ill feeling welling up inside. "Jesus. Since when?"

She wrapped her arms around herself, looking uncomfortable. When she didn't say anything, he sighed deeply. Maybe it started that same day. Who could blame her for not wanting to admit to it?

After a short silence, he tentatively said, "You could have told me."

Her resulting laugh sounded a bit manic. "You don't think you—we have enough to deal with?!"

"The worst is behind us, Claire. We're on our way home. And the healing process has to start sooner or later."

She blinked and half turned away, again looking like she was on the verge of tears. "I don't think I could even get back to where I was before all this. Tell me how I'm supposed to do that!"

"You can't, Redfield. Neither of us can. That's just the deal." He sighed once more. "I'm still trying to come to terms with that myself. But neither of us has to work through our respective situations alone. We could help each other, so long as you stop acting like you're the only one who's suffered through all this!"

Her grief showed itself in the way her lower lip quivered and her throat convulsed. Elliott eyed her in concern, though neither of them said anything for the longest time.

When Claire finally shifted to move toward him, he was sure he saw her flinch. While he briefly wondered if she was hearing Wesker's voice in her head, he still said nothing when she cupped his face in her hands.

The way she kissed him felt almost desperate. Though it caused him worry, he cast that aside when she began grinding against him. Part of him wanted to put a stop to it and talk to her even as their clothes started to come off. An outside observer might accuse him of succumbing to lust, and maybe he was to some degree. But a larger part of him had hope that, just maybe, this was what she needed in order to heal. If I had that bastard in my brain, I'd do anything to make it stop too.

Story notes – After holing up for several days, Claire and Elliott get moving again on New Year's Eve. His hope for a fresh start and a better year ahead has an affect on her. Though Claire knows she'll eventually have to tell him the truth, she hopes to do it in a way to soften the blow. On January 3rd, she sleeps with Elliott one last time, partly due to guilt\sadness that their relationship will end badly.

On January 5th, they make it to the mountainside overlooking a small populated settlement, where they spend a couple days watching from afar for Wesker and his cronies.

January 7, 2008

It took them perhaps half the day to descend from the mountain and make their way across the plains. The only time they stopped was around noon when they sought shelter underneath a tree for a bite to eat.

They were nearly upon the town when Elliott asked, "Is there a reason you're so quiet?"

Claire glanced at him, a silly grin on her lips. "Cause I don't want to say anything that could jinx us when we're so close."

He chuckled. "Come on, Redfield. We confirmed that Wesker and his people aren't here. All we need is to make a phone call and in a matter of hours, we'll be home free. What could possibly go wrong?"

She scowled. "Don't make me put you in a headlock, Romeo." Despite her expression, her tone was playful. Elliott wrapped an arm around her, pulled her close, and planted a kiss on her forehead.

The closer they got to the settlement, the more potent Claire's anxiousness grew. Even though the town was walled off and the stone buildings didn't look very inviting, she didn't care—all she saw was a chance to get back to her family and friends.

She stopped in her tracks once they'd approached a break in the wall. It had been impossible to tell from a distance, but there was a chain link fence just inside the wall. She laid her hand on the granite surface and said, "Guess they really wanted to keep something out."

Elliott shifted. She saw him squinting and trying to peer inside when she glanced at him. "Do you see anyone?" he asked.

She took a good, long look. "No." She paused, then tilted her head to call out. "Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?"

Elliott joined her in calling for someone, but there was no answer. After a minute, they gave up and Claire slapped the wall in frustration. "Damn it!" she blurted out.

"Take it easy, Redfield. We just need to look for a way in." He squeezed her hand. "We'll find help. Don't worry."

She took a deep breath. Keep it together, she told herself. Another day, tops, and you'll leave all this shit behind.

She and Elliott headed right along the wall—stopping each time they got to another hole in the concrete. At one opening in the wall, Claire could see the adjacent stone riddled with bullet holes. But each time, their calls for aid went unanswered. It wasn't until they reached the main gate, which swung open when touched, that they found a way in.

Story notes – The escapees wander around for a short while before finding a sign of life.

There was a mean glint in the man's eyes when he turned to face her. Claire halted in her tracks at the sight and wondered at the stranger's anger. She was only given two seconds to wonder if she'd said or done something to offend him when he suddenly lunged for her.

She darted backwards, but he was too fast. Claire tried to jerk away when he grabbed her by the arm, but the steel grip wouldn't allow it.

Elliott reacted before she could by pulling his gun from its holster. "Hey!" he yelled out; Claire looked in his direction to see him squeezing the trigger.

Her assailant let go of her and leapt back before the bullet even left the chamber. If anything, he looked even more angry. Before either she or Elliott could react, some sort of appendage burst out from between the man's lips. Claire's breath caught in her throat at the sight. She had never seen anything like the grotesque fleshy flower that unfurled across the man's lower face, but she assumed it had to be Wesker's handiwork.

Story notes – The escapees are so caught off guard by the Plaga-infested villager that they get overwhelmed right off the bat. Allyson, who'd been hiding up to this point, comes to their rescue, though it only gives them a short reprieve. Allyson gives a hurried explanation of a slowly-unfolding nightmare that took place within the town over the past week, as well as provides the escapees with a working phone.

Before Claire can make a call for help, the three of them are discovered and assaulted by a mob of infected villagers. Allyson is caught and seemingly killed in the onslaught. Claire and Elliott manage to make it to a rundown shack, where he desperately barricades the door while she dials Chris' number.

However, the villagers break in and the phone is knocked from Claire's hand before she can find out if the call was picked up. She desperately yells out for Chris to help her before one of the townsfolk crushes the phone with their heel. Afterwards, she and Elliott are detained within the shack until Jessica and Raymond show up to collect them.

(For those who may be wondering, Wesker contracted some of Svetlana Belikova's people to aid him in infecting the settlements near his facility; in return, she'd get firsthand reports about the effectiveness of the Plaga parasite.)

Claire sat quietly while her wrists were bound in leather restraints attached to the bench. Elliott didn't say anything either while he was locked up across from her, though he looked greatly unhappy. His eyes indicated, when their gazes locked, that he wanted very much to gather her in his arms and comfort her.

Jessica hopped out of the truck once Claire and Elliott were secured. She reached up and grabbed the strap that would pull the sliding door closed, then said, "Might want to use this time to consider what you'll say to the boss once we get back. He's not very happy with either one of you."

Claire gnawed at her lower lip once the door clattered shut. She looked toward the roof while her eyes adjusted to the darkness. When she felt the vehicle start moving, her sorrow and sense of dread increased.

Elliot's voice was shaky when he said, "This might not mean anything, but maybe it won't be as bad as we think. Maybe… Wesker might still be open to negotiating. He might… spare me if we offer to…"

Claire balled her hands into fists. "Elliott, stop!" she said, a tad harsher than she should have.

He flinched. "It's not something we can ignore, Claire."

If only… She didn't know how long it would take to drive back to the facility, but there was no more putting off the inevitable. She buried her face in her hands and thought, Wesker is bound to spill the beans right off the bat. Congrats on digging a deep grave for yourself, Redfield. And on losing your one saving grace.

When he spoke next, Elliott's tone was soft and soothing. It added greatly to the guilt she felt. "Do you think there's any chance your call to your brother went through? That you might have opened the door for him to find us?"

She leaned her head against the metal partition behind her, ignoring the vehicle's vibrations as her gaze focused on him. "It won't matter either way. It's over. We're finished." She let out a deep breath and interrupted whatever he was about to say in response. "There's something I need to tell you, Elliott…"