Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard and all its characters are property of Capcom.

A/N: This is an old idea that I'm finally putting to script. This may be a long road for this story so forewarned is forearmed: there will be sexual themes, perhaps sexual content. So when it comes time, the rating will be upped. Please R&R constructively and Enjoy!

This takes place immediately following the end of Code:Veronica (the good version).

Despite the near deafening humming of the jet, Claire's eyes were starting to droop and her head lolling forward. It had been a rough, what had it been, a week? A day? Who could keep track anymore? They were always seeming to stumble from hideous disaster to hideous disaster. And frankly no matter how long the experience, they were always, in the end, exhausting.

For now though, they were safe. As she felt all the adrenaline draining from her system, she agreed with her swiftly heavying limbs and allowed herself to fall into sleep.

For a while she floated in empty sleep, but out of the darkness the dream floated up. So strangely familiar, like deja vu. There was light in her eyes, and the sound of machinery humming. She turned her head, and saw something lying askew on the floor. A person, a person she knew, dressed in red and trimmed in gold. She tried to remember who it was, but before she could summon it up, someone stepped between them.

The person was backlit and so, Claire couldn't see them clearly. But a hand, slender and elegant reached out and touched her face. It turned her head one way, lifting her eyelid, then the other way. The person made a hum of satisfaction. Then they turned away slightly, the sound of squeaking wheels briefly, and then they turned back again.

"Who?" Claire asked thickly, her voice sounding distant.

The person didn't respond. They were busy with something that Claire couldn't make out. The light was too bright in her eyes. She tried to lift a hand to shield from the piercing light, but she couldn't manage to make them move.

"Steve?" The name slid off her tongue heavily. The figure stepped closer, blotting out the light. Long blonde hair slipped over a shoulder to tickle her cheek. She saw lips, delicately painted, curve into a smile.

"One for now," the voice was elegant, almost regale in tone. "And one..." Claire hissed as she felt a sting in her arm, and something thick sliding into her veins. "...for later."

The figure straightened. A hand reached out and gently stroked Claire's forehead, manicured nails scraping across her skin lightly. "Time to clean up. Company is coming." The hand slid over her eyes and all was black again.

Claire awoke with a deep intake of breath, looking around the cabin of the jet blearily. "Where are we?" She rubbed at her face with both hands and stretched as best she could in the co-pilot seat with the safety harness on.

"Not even half way to Hawaii," Chris said, not taking his eye off of what he was doing. "Go back to sleep, Claire. You look beat."