Chapter 38 Presents

The next morning, Fraser Fahd was nearly shaking as he reached out to knock on the steel door to Mister Wesker's office. While he quite liked the man, the blonde tyrant still managed to put the fear of god into him. That much power and seduction and rage in one man was a lethal combination. He had no idea how the lovely Miss Claire could deal with it. He did not envy her one bit. Shaking his head slightly, he rapped on the metal door sharply. A moment later, he heard the thunk of the door bolts being drawn back by their hydraulic pistons. He detected a faint hiss as the door swung in towards the office, revealing a slightly frowning Albert Wesker, his sunglasses flashing in the sterile light from the hall.

"Mister Fahd. What can I do for you today?" Wesker stepped aside and gestured the man into his office. He was mildly irritated with the interruption, but he knew Fahd was supposed to be getting him information. "Please. Sit. Help yourself to the whiskey," he said, nodding towards the amber liquid on his desk. He stalked back to his chair and lowered himself into it, while watching silently as Fahd poured a slightly more than generous glass of whiskey and drained half of it before he man set the glass down with a clunk, his hands shaking ever so slightly.

Fahd reached into his pocket as his throat and nose burned with the fumes of the expensive whiskey he so brazenly threw back, and drew out a black, nondescript flash drive and slapped it on Wesker's desk between them, fixing the golden man in front of him with a watery, cold stare. "Don't ask me where I got this, but know that it cost me a lot and I had to pull far too many strings. Please tell me you are progressing with your research. I promised people things that I can't not deliver."

Wesker fixed the man with a blank stare as he polished off the last of his whiskey. He idly noted, with some amusement, that it was only nine thirty in the morning and his superior had just had the equivalent of three shots already. "No questions asked, I can assure you, Mister Fahd." He reached across the desk and swept the black plastic device into his pocket. "And you can be sure that my research is progressing as well as can be expected. There haven't been any major flaws. I have been fortunate."

Fahd nodded slightly and stood, looking distracted. "Good. Good. Well, Mister Wesker, I must be off. Meetings and such. I thank you for the excellent whiskey, as always. Good day, Mister Wesker." And with that, he stood and let himself out the door.

Wesker raised an inquisitive eyebrow in the sudden silence, then pulled the flash drive from his pocket and plugged it into the side of his computer. The computer beeped quietly as it registered the device and opened three files. He waited a moment as his computer opened all the files and sub files. He almost felt a moment of trepidation as he opened the first file in front of him.

His eyes flared crimson through his sunglasses as he stared into the screen in front of him. Rapidly, his eyes scanned the pages in front of him, his frown growing deeper and deeper. He clicked through he rest of the files and had to resist the urge to crush the fragile machine in front of him. Of all the information he had just received, there was a total of seventeen different words. Seventeen different words that told him what he already knew. Ozwell E. Spencer and Alex Wesker were indeed working together, and had been for decades.

The first file was labeled Progenitor Virus 1966 Professors Oswell E. Spencer and Alex Wesker. The other two files had the same names included, but one had information about the Arklay Laboratory and Raccoon City with the year 1967 written on it, while the other mentioned the Reclamation Project in 1998.

But where were the real words? He snarled silently and closed all the files and threw the drive in his drawer. He knew there were secret copies of every file Umbrella ever had. There were hundreds of hidden filing warehouses hidden around the world, holding paper copies of every piece of information Umbrella had ever acquired. And he also just happened to know a part-time thief who knew a location or two of these secret Umbrella warehouses.

He flipped his phone open and pressed a button. The line rang twice.

"Wesker," Ada's voice purred seductively into the phone. "What can I do for you?"

Wesker pushed his sunglasses up his nose. "Miss Wong. I have need of your thieving skills this time around."

There was a pause. "You understand that I haven't completed the first task you gave me, right?" she asked, dropping the purr for a more businesslike tone.

"Indeed. How disappointing. However, priorities change. I need you to find one of Umbrella's underground paper warehouses," he said pointedly. "I want you to find everything there is left on the Progenitor Virus, 1966, Professor Ozwell E. Spencer, Alex Wesker-"

Ada cut him off. "A-alex Wesker, you said?" To the untrained ear, there would have been no detection of the slight tremor in her voice. But Wesker was not untrained. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Miss Wong?"

Ada laughed, the tremor gone from her voice. "No, of course not. I just wanted to make sure I heard you correctly. I'm currently knee deep in frozen refuse, thank you. Now you were saying?"

Wesker cleared his throat. "Indeed," he said dryly. "I require anything I don't already have on the Arklay Laboratory and Raccoon City. And anything to do with the Reclamation Project. Sooner rather than later. Then you can continue with your current task."

Ada sighed. "I suppose mosquitoes and bats are better than frozen zombies for a few weeks. I'll see what I can find for you this time, Wesker. Say, are you still playing house with that gorgeous red-headed Redfield?" Her tone changed to playful.

"That is indeed none of your business, Miss Wong. Good day," he said coldly, snapping his phone shut. He leaned back in his chair, glancing through the doorway, straight into Claire's lab. He watched her dancing around, a notebook in one hand, sketching the statues in her lab. The anger he had felt, slowly dissipating, was gone as she danced across the doorway, her curves and hair lit from the bright light in Wesker's lab.

Moments later, he felt calm once again. Standing, he put his lab coat on and stepped back into his lab, grabbing a clipboard from the desk. Claire glanced at him, her eyes alight, a bright smile on her face as she caught his gaze. She winked and blew him a kiss, then went back to rolling around on her chair to her music, sketching the shapes in front of her.

Wesker was at ease once again. Balm to his soul.

A week later, six plain brown filing boxes appeared in Wesker's office. After having a cup of morning coffee with Claire, he returned to his office to find them waiting for him. One of the boxes had a piece of paper with an ornate "A" in scarlet ink taped to the top. Ada was always one for the dramatic. He settled himself into his desk chair before flipping open his phone, thumbing two buttons. The line only rang twice.

Ada's throaty chuckle sifted through the phone. "I'm assuming you received my presents, yes? Does it feel like Christmas?" She chuckled again.

Wesker cleared his throat, and set his ever present sunglasses on his desk. "Indeed. I shall pay you six figures for the prompt service you have provided me. However, do not forget our previous business contract."

"Oh, don't worry, Wesker. I'm working on it as we speak. You should have your request soon." There was the ever so faint chatter of gunfire in the background.

"Good. I shall await your delivery." He paused. "Oh, and Ada."

"Yes?" She sounded slightly hesitant.

Wesker chuckled darkly, his eyes flashing crimson in the still darkness around him. "One of these days, you WILL tell me where these other Umbrella sites are."

Ada laughed lightly, still sounding uncomfortable. "A girl has to have her secrets, Wesker, otherwise what good would I be to anyone?"

"Indeed."

Wesker snapped his phone shut and stood, slipping the metal device back into his pocket. He stored the boxes in a cabinet in his lab that locked, pocketed the key and went back to his research. His personal vendetta would have to wait until his research was complete.

Another week slipped by. Wesker rarely left the lab, and was peripherally aware of Claire in his presence. Occasionally she would bring him coffee and kiss him on the cheek. He would grunt in reply and she'd roll her eyes with a slight smile on her face as she sipped her own coffee. She never bothered him while he was so engrossed with his experiments.

His progress had been slow for a while, but now with the tissue samples Ada had been providing, and all the weeks of research, Wesker felt that it was time to test his walking cure on tissue samples. He had also sent an email to Fahd, requesting more research supplies. For five days, he tested his theories on the dead, infected flesh. He tweaked numbers and calculations, changed and modified amounts and potencies and slowly something he could work with was emerging from the tangles of data surrounding him.

On the sixth day of his experiments, Claire was mildly surprised to see him step through the door of their home. "Hello Albert," she said, setting aside her book and coffee. She stretched and stood up, wrapping her arms around his waist.

His eyes glowed a soft amber as he held her closely. "Dear heart," he murmured, burying his nose in her hair. They stood in their embrace for a few long moments before Claire pulled back to look at him.

"How goes the experiments? Are you finished with them?" she asked, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. Then she frowned as she look into his face. "When was the last time you slept?" she asked accusingly.

Wesker pressed his burning lips to her forehead. "The experiments are going extremely well, better than I could have wished for, actually. I'm currently waiting for the computer to render the results and for the supplies I asked Fraser Fahd to deliver. Soon, I will be able to begin the final phase of the cure." He avoided Claire's last question by kissing her forehead again and pulling away to saunter into the kitchen. Moments later, he reemerged with a steaming cup of coffee.

Claire stared pointedly at him. "Albert. You didn't answer me." She crossed her arms and planted herself in front of him, giving him a thoroughly Redfield stare. "When was the last time you slept?"

He adored the way her eyes flared in the late afternoon light, the sunbeams glinting through her hair, the way the clear mountain air made her own unique scent that much stronger. But he most definitely did not adore the way she was questioning him when all he wanted was a moment to enjoy his coffee and pull his head from his research for a few minutes. Sighing, he gently set her aside and draped his long, lean frame across the couch, motioning for her to sit beside him.

Claire sat next to him, their thighs touching as she faced him and really looked into his face. There were minute lines beneath his eyes that weren't normally there. His lips were slightly chapped and his eyes mildly red from staring into computer screens and microscopes for weeks on end. Taking his hand in hers, she asked? "When do you have a few minutes to spare?" she murmured, looking up at him. She hated that he'd been so busy, but she definitely understood the importance of his work.

Wesker drained the rest of his coffee and set the cup aside. "I will be done with the paperwork this afternoon. However, I am still waiting for the results to come back."

"How long will that take?" Claire asked him, watching him pick up his empty coffee cup and set it back down. She offered him hers and giggled a little when he grimaced slightly at the cold coffee. "Sorry, I get distracted when I read. I forgot all about it."

Wesker gave her one of his mind melting smirks, golden glowing eyes included, setting her cup aside as well. "The results could take anywhere from six hours to 48 hours." He gently took her hand in his, pulling her across his lap to straddle him. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her against him, as close as their clothing would allow. His fingers tickled her sides gently as she combed her fingers through his hair. He groaned quietly, tilting his head back against the couch, never letting his grip on her slacken. "Claire..." he whispered as she gently raked her nails against his scalp, her lips caressing the tender spot beneath his ear. His large hands slid down to grasp her firm behind, holding her lean body against his as another small breath escaped his lips.

Claire was nearly glowing at the reaction of the man beneath her. The way he whispered her name sounded more...emotional, more unrestrained, less mechanical as was his way. The way his fiery hands pulled her against his body that burned even hotter at her touch. Her nose was filled with the exotic, spicy smell of her man as she continued to press her lips against his throat.

Just then, there was a vibration in Wesker's pocket that nearly made Claire's eyes cross in pleasure. She had to stifle a moan as her lover stifled a curse, sliding off his lap and sprawling across the couch as he dug into his pocket for his phone, his eyes nearly crimson in irritation. He sighed as he read the message on the screen then put the device back in his pocket.

"Some of my preliminary results have come back. I must return to the lab to finish this, dear heart," he said, combing his hair back into place as he stood. Then he fixed her with a stare that was nearly predatory. "But as for you," he whispered as he knelt between her knees and leaned over her. "You, my dear, sweet, Claire." His hand slipped up her thigh and cupped the burning heat between her legs, his finger pressing against the center of her. Then his hand slid beneath her shirt to caress the soft skin of her stomach. "I have plans for you later," he murmured, stretching himself over her.

Claire soaked in the pleasure that was hammering through her at his torrid touch, the threat and dark promise of what he wanted to do to her later blatant in his fiery eyes. The heat of his body stretched over hers as he caressed her made her vision go dark. He nipped her earlobe and soothed the slight hurt with his tongue. "Later, beloved," he murmured, planting a lingering kiss beneath her ear. And with that he was gone, his intoxicating smell hanging in the air in his absence.

Glaring up at the ceiling, she tried to regain control of herself as she lay there. He was intoxicating and infuriating. She hated it as much as she loved it. When she could stand confidently, she swung her legs over the edge of the couch and stood up, collecting both empty coffee mugs and sashaying to the kitchen with them. Humming to herself, she made another pot of coffee for them.

As it dripped, she nosed through a few more pages of the book she was reading. When she heard the empty hiss of the coffee pot, she poured the steaming beverage into the cups once again. Tucking her book under her arm, she gathered both cups in one hand, grateful she had some basic waitressing skills from high school, and sauntered towards their labs once again.

When she walked in, Wesker was peering through a microscope and jotting something down in a notebook in his narrow, fluent handwriting. She set the steaming mug down next to him and kissed his cheek. "I brought you some more coffee," she said, retrieving the chair from her desk and settling in with her book once again.

They were silent for a few minutes before Wesker looked up, fixing her with a blank look. "Dear heart, you don't need to stay down here with me. I'm sure the house is much more comfortable than a desk chair."

Claire arched an eyebrow at him without looking up from her book. "Uh, uh-huh," she said distractedly, not moving from her position. "I'm reading," she muttered. Wesker said nothing but a small smile crossed his lips as he once again returned to his research.

Late that afternoon, there was a sharp knock on the door of Wesker's office. Claire's eyes widened in irritation as she fixed the door with a glare. Wesker stood up straight and fixed the door with his own glare. "It's about time they deliver my equipment," he muttered and stood. "Come in," he growled towards the door.

A few seconds later, a tall thin man with dark hair and silver rimmed glasses entered the lab. He was pushing a cart with multiple unmarked boxes on it. "Uh, Mister Wesker, I presume?" he asked in a flat voice that attempted to hide a slight tremor. Claire's eyes were fixed on the page in front of her, but her attention was focused on the interaction going on in front of her.

"Yes. This is the equipment I requested from Mister Fahd, is it not?" Wesker asked in a cold, sharp voice.

The thin man cleared his throat. "Yes it is. If you could just sign this paperwork for me," he set a clipboard containing a goodly amount of paper on the counter opposite Wesker, readjusting his glasses. There was just something in his voice that made Claire sit up slightly and peer over the top of her book at the invader. As she watched, the man's eyes slid over the walls of the lab, noting all the formulas and research Wesker had done.

While Wesker paged through the paperwork, Claire's eyes narrowed in anger as she watched the man shift to gain a better vantage on the notes scattered across the table and counter. Whoever this man was, he had no right to be trying to look through Wesker's work. Silently, she got to her feet and dropping her book, she flashed across the lab towards the scientist. Her extended palm made a hollow sound as it connected with the mans' chest, sending him flying across the room to hit the wall with dull thud. He crumpled on the floor, his glasses hanging from one ear. Wesker's notes fell like snowflakes through the air at the force of her hit.

In the split second it took for Claire to react, Wesker saw her move and then the scientist was on the floor. His eyes flared crimson as he marched over to the man, flexing his hands in rage. The anger was pouring off him so thickly, it was nearly a physical thing.

The man on the floor wheezed in terror as Wesker stood over him, murder written across his face. He could see the man's eyes glowing crimson through the dark reflective glass of his sunglasses. His face was a rictus of hatred. The woman standing behind him was much shorter, how had she moved so quickly?, but the burning ferocity was barely restrained in her eyes also, her beautiful face a mask of rage. Maybe he shouldn't have taken this job. He'd heard things about Albert Wesker and his mysterious female companion and the rumors of what he was working on while the world fell apart. He had thought Wesker nothing more than a self-absorbed workaholic with a bad temper. How very, very wrong he had been.

Wesker wrapped his hand around the man's throat and lifted him into the air like he weighed nothing. The man whimpered as his dislocated shoulder grated in its socket and his broken ribs tore tissue within him. His eyesight was getting darker as he spluttered futilely in the tyrant's grasp. His one good hand scratched desperately but ineffectively on Wesker's lab coat sleeve.

"Who do you work for?" the blonde asked in a deadly voice, sharper than ice. His hand tightened on the man's throat. All he could do was gargle incoherently as his struggling got weaker and weaker.

"Wait," the red-haired woman said, placing her hand on the blonde's shoulder. "I broke his ribs and probably punctured a lung. He's not going anywhere." While her words sounded calm in his ears, her face had not changed. He could still see the rage and hatred behind her eyes. But slowly, his vision was fading. He wasn't giving the information up. There was nothing they could do to him that would make him talk. Not that there was much time left anyway.

"You're right, dear heart. He isn't," Wesker said coldly, and with that, he twisted the man's head sharply to the left and dropped him on the floor at their feet. His eyes were still burning coals of hatred as he turned to face her. He could still see the rage in her own eyes matching his. "This ends. Now."

He marched into his office and ripped the keypad off the door and wall next to it that connected them with the rest of the facility and ground it beneath the heel of his boot. The lights flickered and went out when he pulled the device from the wall, plunging them into blackness. There was light from the computers that were running on a different circuit, but nothing else. Claire could see his eyes glowing in the darkness as he threw himself into his chair, crushing his glasses in his hand as he slammed them down on the glass topped desk.

Sighing angrily, she grabbed hold of the spy's arm and pulled him through the lab to the empty specimen tanks in their private little room. She deposited him unceremoniously on the floor and kicked him with her bare foot, then slunk towards Wesker's office in the darkness, slamming the tank door shut behind her. Peering around the doorway, she saw him sitting at his desk, his hands folded in front of his face, staring at the wall opposite him. While his outward appearance was calm, she could see the anger seething through him in the slight tremor of his shoulders and the molten glare he fixed the wall with.

"Albert?" she whispered, standing in the doorway.

A long moment passed, then he sighed and turned his gaze towards her. She watched his eyes turn from the dark crimson of anger to the soft golden glow he saved just for her. "Dear heart, I must thank you," he said quietly, reaching his hand out towards her in invitation. "I should have been more diligent."

Claire smiled down at him as she stepped up next to him. "I'm on your side, Albert. I protect what's mine. You and your research and everything you do. I didn't like him from the moment he set foot in the door." Wesker tugged her into his lap and held her close, his head upon her breast. Gently, she stroked his hair, shivering slightly as his hot breath skittered across her skin. "Tomorrow, I am going to have a conversation with our dear friend's, the Fahd's. Once was one too many. Now that this has happened twice, it will never happen again."

Wesker said nothing as they sat, surrounded in darkness. Slowly, he let the rage drain out of him, distracting himself with the warmth of his woman in his arms, his brain unfocused with the heady scent of her skin. The sound of her heartbeat thudding against his ear relaxed him in a way that had not happened before he found her again.

They sat in silence for a time. The only sound was the quiet whirring of the computers in the lab as they worked to finalized Wesker's data. Every so often, there was a muted beep, then more whirring. With a sigh, Claire leaned back to press a kiss to the top of his head. "Albert, let's go back to the house," she murmured, slipping from his lap. She shivered at the absence of his heat, then grasped his hand and tugged him out of his chair towards their home.