Devil to Watch Over Me

By: PhantasmBabeIvory

Author's Notes (Please read) - To all of my fans of Tangled Web, I am sorry it's been so long since the last update. I've hit a bit of a roadblock with the next chapter and I am unsure how long it will take me to work through it. But I know a lot of you have been anxious for the pregnancy subplot to make an appearance, so I offer an alternative.

I got inspired to write an offshoot for Tangled Web in mid-March 2018; I have been working on that in addition to the main story. It should be noted that this story, Devil to Watch Over Me, kicks off with a plot scenario that will not be present in Tangled Web. This story will explore an alternate path for the characters. I hope you all enjoy the different outcome to Claire, Elliott, and Wesker's story.

I have written at least three and a half chapters for this story so far, but will only be posting Chapter One for now. Part Two contains a massive spoiler I'm reserving for the end of Tangled Web. I will share Chapter Two with anyone who really wants to read it, but be warned that it may ruin the end of the main story.

And now, on with the show. Enjoy. :)

Chapter One

February 10, 2009

Despite being held captive at the mercy of a superpowered monster for over a year, Claire Redfield could never have anticipated waking up one morning strapped to a gurney.

The instant she realized she couldn't move her arms, her eyes went wild as she looked to find out why. The leather restraints binding her wrists made her even more frantic. She started to wildly pull at them in a desperate bid to free herself even while her mind tried to make sense of this situation.

The cold, crisp voice that sounded from across the room got her even more riled. "I advise you to settle down, dearheart. Otherwise, I will be forced to sedate you."

Claire gritted her teeth when her gaze landed on her captor, Albert Wesker. It infuriated her to no end that he was as calm and composed as ever. As though detaining her was the most normal thing in the world. She gestured to one of the restraints and snapped, "Get these off me."

He stood and stepped close. For a moment, her hopes were raised – until he wrapped one gloved hand around her chin and leaned in. He removed the sunglasses he consistently wore to reveal unnatural gold red eyes with reptilian-like pupils. It was the one and only outward sign of his particular mutation – he could pass for human in all other ways. Her breath caught in her throat at his close proximity, but all he seemed interested in was scrutinizing her.

After a long moment, he stepped back and put his shades back on. "I'm pleased to see you're back to yourself, Miss Redfield. But don't think that earns you a free pass. I'd like to make sure there are no more episodes before I set you loose."

He might as well have been speaking a foreign language. "What the hell are you talking about?" she spat out, pulling once more at her bonds.

Wesker hesitated. When he spoke next, it was in a tone that one might use with a troublesome child. "You and your brother have a lot in common. Seems both of you enjoy inconveniencing me." He crossed his arms. "What's the last thing you remember?"

She laughed bitterly. "Really?! You want to play 20 questions?"

"Your selective memory makes it necessary. Indulge me."

She started to feel queasy. She let out a breath to try and calm herself, then said, "I'm not answering anything until you untie me."

"So be it," he said after a second. He turned away to pick up a syringe from a nearby table. "Perhaps it is too soon for this talk. I do hope that you'll be more compliant after you've rested more."

His words clearly indicated that he intended to inject her with a sedative. Claire didn't relish that idea and once more pulled wildly at the restraints as he stepped closer. All that her struggles did was exacerbate the nausea she felt and make her gag.

Wesker's ability to move faster than she could perceive meant that he had a trash can instead of a hypodermic needle in hand when he approached the gurney. She didn't fight him when he helped her lean over the receptacle. Even as she emptied her stomach of whatever it contained, she was startled when he subtly rubbed her shoulder like he was concerned about her.

When she finished throwing up, he quietly laid her back down and stepped away. Claire was quiet – only because her stomach was still churning – until he returned with a glass of water. God, what's happening to me? she thought. I haven't been sick in forever, it seems like.

It was hard not to be appreciative when he allowed her to swish water in her mouth and spit it out into an empty glass. Still, his attentiveness perplexed her.

It added to her confusion when he said, "We will have a lot to talk about over the coming days, Miss Redfield. I feel it better to break it to you in stages to soften the blow." Before she could react, he gripped her elbow tightly enough to make a vein pop out, inserted the syringe, and pressed down on the plunger. "Until further notice, I need you relaxed. Stress will only cause more harm in your current state."

Claire felt her agitation coming back, though it was quickly overpowered by lethargy. Whatever sedative he'd used, it was a powerful, fast-acting one. She fought to keep her eyes open and asked, "Could at least tell what's wrong with me."

He stared at her for a second or two. His last words followed her into an uneasy slumber fraught with nightmares.

"For starters, you're with child."

When she regained consciousness, the first and only thing she could focus on was that her mouth was dry. She shifted on the gurney, her tongue sliding across her gums to try to work up some saliva.

Having Wesker come into view and offer her a glass of ice water with a straw came as a surprise. For a moment, she was tempted to refuse the offering, but need trumped defiance. Claire wondered how long she'd been out as she took a sip.

"I must ask if you feel up to eating something," he said.

That statement made her recall what he'd claimed just before she conked out. She blinked and her gaze wandered to her stomach. Once she realized she was in a hospital gown, Claire looked at him in a fury. "Where are my clothes?"

He raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't seem fazed. "An interesting thing to be concerned about." He shifted his weight. "I saw fit to give you something more suitable to wear. And before you accuse me of any wrongdoing, Dr. Yamata was the one who changed you." He pulled up a chair and seated himself next to the gurney. "That aside, there are more pressing matters to be discussed."

"There's nothing to talk about because I'm not pregnant!" she snapped.

Wesker smirked. "Denial won't change the fact that you are, Miss Redfield. Something which caught me off guard." He paused. "I would have thought you'd be smarter than to land yourself in this kind of trouble."

"Elliott and I used protection!"

"Not a very good argument. Such a thing hardly qualifies as a complete deterrent. And evidently didn't work."

"You're a liar! I…" She broke off when the nausea returned. She reclined against the stretcher, taking deep calming breaths to try to stave off the sickness.

Wesker wasn't as satisfied and had her sitting up with a trash can in front of her in seconds. Her throat convulsed, but all that escaped her was a soft moan.

While she strove not to vomit, she slowly began to take in her surroundings. The ebony wood flooring and nearby office furniture told her they were in his living quarters of all places. She bitterly thought, He's probably just helping me so I won't mess up his floor.

The nausea soon passed with nothing happening. Claire wondered when she'd last eaten.

"This symptom alone should indicate that I'm being perfectly honest. It seems your regenerative capabilities are prepared to cure anything but hormonal-based afflictions." A few seconds passed before he eased her back down and returned the trash receptacle to where it belonged. "Are you ready to be calm and rational now?"

She took a breath. "Only if you're ready to stop lying."

Wesker smirked. "Do you have a better answer for why you keep feeling nauseous?"

Claire hesitated, a flicker of doubt taking root in her mind. Her gaze wandered back to her stomach. She reached out with one hand as much as the restraints would allow. Her fingertips barely grazed the fabric of her gown, but it didn't matter.

It was difficult for Claire to describe everything she experienced or felt in that moment. The possibility that there was a life growing inside her was like a shock to her very being. There was so much she wanted to voice out loud, but all of it was brushed aside by a more disturbing realization.

When her gaze returned to Wesker, her eyes were full of fury. "Why am I tied down?!" she said in an accusatory tone.

He shifted his weight. "To keep you from causing trouble."

Claire saw his lips move, but whatever he said next was drowned out by the alarmed feeling that rapidly took hold of her. It was only natural for her to be panicked. He had after all ripped her from her home and her family simply because she'd been infected with a virus that had wreaked havoc on her DNA.

Instinct took over and made her start fighting like a wildcat to free herself. She shuddered to think what his plans were for her and her unborn child, but she had no desire to find out. I need to get out of here!

Wesker's hand was on her chest in seconds to hold her down. "Calm yourself, Miss Redfield, and no harm will come to you."

"Liar! Get the hell off me!"

Her struggles ceased when she felt the sting of a needle at her throat – he was drugging her once more. "You disappoint me, dearheart," he said. "I had hoped to avoid resorting to these measures again."

As the darkness started to drag her back into its fold, she shook her head and said, "Not gonna let you take my baby."

Just before she closed her eyes, she was almost sure she saw him recoil and a frown come to his lips.

February 11, 2008

She fought her way back to consciousness to find herself in a near pitch black room. The first thing she saw was the glowing red numbers of a digital clock. 2:33 – in the morning, she assumed.

Claire reflexively pulled at her restraints, only to be startled when she found her arms were no longer bound. Nor was she on the stretcher. She traced a hand across the plush mattress beneath her. "What the hell…?" she murmured. She sat up slowly and put one hand to her abdomen.

She wasn't sure what she expected – maybe some indicator to let her know what day this was. Or if she was even still pregnant. There was nothing to provide answers for either.

Swinging her legs off the edge of the bed caused the overhead lights to turn on. She blinked rapidly to get her eyes to adjust to the brightness, then saw a folded slip of paper on the nightstand when she looked around.

I've decided to give you some space for several hours, the crisp lilting script told her. I hope you'll use this time to reassure yourself that I mean no harm to you or your child. And please help yourself to something to eat. You must be desperately hungry by now. It should also be noted that no one other than you, Dr. Yamata, and I are aware of your condition. We can talk further when you're ready.

Claire gnawed at her lip and thought, This has to be a trick. But the thought of food made her stomach growl loud enough to make her wince. It was enough to make her get up, tie her gown shut in the back, and wander out to the kitchen. After some debate, she settled with a bowl of cheerios and cut-up strawberries.

However, opening the fridge to grab a carton of milk yielded a smell that instantly made her queasy. She darted for the bathroom and dropped to her knees in front of the toilet. All it resulted in was dry heaving until the nausea passed. When it ceased, Claire shut her eyes and wiped the beads of sweat from her brow. Yet she was glad for the symptoms. Still pregnant, it looks like.

After a few seconds, she rose to her feet and went to stand in front of the mirror. She studied her reflection for several minutes while she tried to wrap her head around the concept. Though there were no other obvious symptoms, she doubted that Wesker was playing some sick game with her. Why would he?

Hunger pangs interrupted her musing and sent her back out to the kitchen. She ate slowly to avoid further upsetting her stomach. Once the bowl was empty, she leaned back in her chair and wondered about the note he'd left. Or why he'd allowed her free rein. What am I missing here? He… can't really be sincere, can he?

Claire eventually rose from her seat and headed for the main door. She was startled when she found it unlocked, but she was hesitant to actually leave Wesker's living quarters. She looked back into the main room and wondered if he was watching her – testing her – on the security feed to see what she'd do.

Part of her was tempted to run to Elliott, but a couple things stopped her. It was still very early in the morning and he could be sleeping for all she knew. And they hadn't parted on good terms – the last time they'd spoken, Elliott had just found out that she'd developed a sick attraction to the guy holding them prisoner. The truth had sufficiently killed whatever feelings Elliott had for her.

It was nothing short of irony that she'd wound up sharing a living space with Wesker for the past month. Not the most ideal situation, but she hadn't been given many options since her ex-fiancée refused to room with her. And having a sparse room to herself for a couple days hadn't been much better. The isolation had been too much to take.

Claire was unaware that her hand had come to rest over her stomach until she looked down. She couldn't tell if she was just scared and vulnerable or if her emotional state could be attributed to hormones. Whatever the reason, she didn't particularly want to be alone right now.

She had no plan to seek out Wesker, but the note she found stuck to the elevator doors helped sway her: I'm in my office if you wish to talk.

Claire unconsciously rubbed one of her wrists and gnawed at her lip. She was tempted to brush him off if not for the fact that his actions for the past couple days didn't make sense. The strong need for answers carried her onto the elevator and down to sub-level one as though she were on auto-pilot.

Wesker was leaned back in his chair with a blank expression when she walked in. Whether he'd anticipated her arrival or not, he didn't say a word as she seated herself. She waited for him to speak, but soon guessed he was waiting for her to start the conversation.

"Why did you cut me loose?" Claire asked.

A smirk crossed his face for an instant. "Must you have everything spelled out for you? I would think it would be obvious." Wesker leaned forward. "I simply seek to help you," he said flatly.

"Bullshit."

He grimaced for an instant. His audible exhale told her he was trying to be patient with her. "This conversation would go much smoother if you recalled what happened, Miss Redfield. Why I had to restrain you, to be precise."

Claire remained silent while she tried to make sense of his words. Her brow furrowed when she recalled him saying something about an "episode." She pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers to stave off the headache she felt coming on. "Can you please be straight with me for once?" she asked tiredly.

He removed his sunglasses and set them quietly on the desktop. "As you wish, Claire."

She gasped at hearing her name on his lips. In the year she'd been held in his facility, she'd gotten much more accustomed to being addressed as "Miss Redfield", "dearheart", or occasionally "Chris' little sister." The sudden change floored her so much that she almost didn't realize he was still speaking.

"… bad reaction to the pregnancy. This may be due to the sudden hormonal imbalance. Or perhaps to the introduction of a second virus in your system. It's very likely that the child is a carrier of the mutagen that Mr. Gregory has been infected with. And that it's genetic makeup is in conflict with your own. Whatever the cause, you exhibited signs of mutating. And I would have been unable to stop it if you did."

The bitter laugh that escaped her didn't seem to faze him. She rested one hand over her belly and said, "If you're trying to amuse yourself at my expense, you can go to hell!"

"I take no pleasure whatsoever at this, Miss Redfield. The truth can sometimes be a vicious animal to face down."

Claire rose from her seat and took a step back. "No," she said. "You're trying to trick me! If you think for one moment I'll believe you…"

A heavy sigh escaped him. "Don't say I didn't try to make this easy for you," he said as he turned the computer monitor in her direction.

She didn't want to look but it was impossible to tear her eyes from the screen once she got a glimpse. She backed up a step and cupped her hands over her mouth. Viewing a silent video of herself grappling with Wesker with a purely feral look on her face came as another shock. Even more troubling was the fact that he seemed to be struggling a bit to subdue her.

Much as Claire wanted to believe it was a lie, she realistically knew it would be pretty difficult to fabricate such a video. And it would explain both her memory loss and why he'd restrained her. Her knees buckled at the notion that her unborn child – whom she'd only just begun to grow attached to – was a threat to her. "No," she said again, this time with a tinge of hysteria in her tone.

Wesker was in front of her in a second, his hand on her back to pull her close. The blank look on his face riled her further, as did the lack of inflection in his tone. "Breathe, dearheart. Just breathe."

She pummeled him with her fists. "Get the fuck off me!"

He only gripped her tighter. In a downright uncharacteristic move, he started to rub her back. "Heightened emotions could very well trigger your transformation into a monster. And there's no guarantee I'll be able to pull you back from that," he said firmly. "Unless you want both your child and yourself to suffer, you'll do whatever it takes to calm down."

She knew better than to assume he was helping her out of the goodness of his heart – he never did anything unless he benefitted from it in some way. He was the last person she wanted to be comforted by, but it was still better than the alternative.

Claire closed her eyes, returned her hand to her stomach, and tried not to think about the fact that she was being soothed by the one man she hated with a passion.

The only reason she made it through the remainder of the early morning hours was that she shut down. Clearing her mind and going through the motions was a good way to hold on to her sanity.

Claire wasn't aware she'd nodded off until she awoke to find herself laying on her side on the couch in Wesker's apartment. She let out a breath when she saw him seated at his desk across the room and typing away on his computer. The lack of noise – she couldn't hear any button-clicking – was something of an annoyance; the stillness grated at her.

What threatened to break her the most was that there was one simple answer to ensure she wouldn't become a monster. "I suppose the most sensible thing to do would be to terminate the pregnancy," Claire said flatly without getting up. At the same time, she thought, Don't think about it. Keep yourself numb.

Wesker ceased typing and turned his chair to face her. "Only if that's what you truly desire."

I can't believe I'm actually too scared to pick a fight with you. She rubbed her eyes. "Please don't make me hope for something I can't have."

He grimaced. "If I didn't see another option, I would have already done something about this. Especially if you hadn't returned to your senses." He crossed his arms. "I've already determined that it's plausible for you to carry the child to term as long as precautions are taken."

Claire could feel a mix of fury and sorrow stirring below the surface. She closed her eyes and took a few calming breaths. Down, girl. You're just two people having a civil conversation. Hear him out. Holding her tongue was more difficult. "Why? So you can have another life to screw with?"

The red flare cutting through his dark sunglasses was a good indicator she'd pissed him off. But his voice was still serene when he answered. "I don't believe in making rash decisions, Miss Redfield. Something of which you should be well aware. You've already made it clear that you care a great deal for this child. And I'll not have you doubting yourself and regretting a hasty choice down the road."

She bit back tears, unsure how she should feel. "What do you want from me?" she asked once she collected herself.

"All I ask is for you to be sure of what you want. If you still desire to end the pregnancy at a later date or if it puts your life at risk, it will quietly be dealt with."

"Quietly?"

"As I've stated, dearheart, Dr. Yamata and myself are the only ones other than you aware of your condition. Unless you wish that I share the news with Excella…"

Claire felt a spike of fear at the notion. Though she was mildly curious why Wesker hadn't spilled the beans already, the last thing she wanted was for an insane, power-hungry woman to know about the baby. There was no telling how Excella would respond to that revelation. "No," she blurted out.

"I thought not."

She remained silent while she mulled over his words. She didn't doubt that he was being honest with her. There'd been a number of instances over the past year where he'd held true to his word. Though she suspected she knew the answer, she still had to ask. "Why are you helping me?"

Wesker was as cool and collected as ever when he said, "Largely, because you're of no use to me if you turn."

Without another word, Wesker turned back to face his computer and resumed typing. Claire left him to it as she turned her gaze toward her stomach. Though there were at least half a dozen concerns bouncing around in her skull, only one weighed on her much more than the others.

Elliott's going to freak out big time when I tell him.