The sky was darkened with the grey clouds that rolled in as the crescent moon rose to take its rightful place up on the throne of night. There was a slight breeze that pushed through the tree limbs of the park, but it packed a big punch with the nippy cold air that surely brought about the raising of Goosebumps for anyone that would boldly sit outside during this time of the year after dusk.
And there was someone, whom so boldly sat outside during the later hour of the evening, who shivered as the winter chill ran through the tree branches and her bones. A rare passer by may have questioned what such a lovely young woman was doing outdoors at in such weather at that time of night, but there were none. It was two days after Christmas, and most people were inside with their families, except for the lone figure sitting alone on the park bench, underneath one of the many bare maple trees.
A cloud of warm air formed out of the woman's mouth as she let out a deep breath and readjusted her scarf to keep out the cold air that desperately wished to sneak under her skin. She let her hair down out of it's usual ponytail to keep the back of her neck warm as it rested underneath a red knit hat. Sapphire orbs searched upwards for the moon, which was struggling to give its light out from behind the clouds. She blinked as a snowflake landed on her lashes.
If she had been in another part of the world right now, it would be raining. The sky would have been exactly like it had been that night thirteen years ago.
"It's really been 13 years since that night on Rockfort? Those years sure flew by fast…"Claire Redfield thought to herself while noting that the sky was clouded, with the moon barely peaking out and precipitation falling freely to the earth, just like that day. Except today, she was in Toronto, not the southern oceanic island known as Rockfort.
That day was the day in which she had awakened in a small prison cell with Rodrigo opening the door and giving her a chance to fight. That day was the day in which she yet again faced Umbrella's dreaded creation, the T-Virus. That was the day in which she had met Steve Burnside.
December 27th had been a sacred day for Claire, ever since she had met him on the same day more than a decade ago. The younger Redfield had only known him for 2 days, but he had made such an impact on her within that time frame, that she felt they deserved to be remembered.
Every year, on this day, Claire would wake up in her apartment, get dressed as usual, make her cup of tea [unlike her brother, she couldn't stand the taste of coffee], and go about her business until the sun began to set. And then she would put on her winter apparel and head out to the park across the street from her building and simply sit; sit under the same tree on the same bench every year and reminisce about that slightly flirtatious yet awkward teenager that she spent a majority of her Rockfort nightmare with.
Another gust of wind flew through the air past the auburn haired woman and tickled the memory of bullets whizzing past her as she entered an open space in the Rockfort Base. A bright searchlight practically blinded her as she dove behind a wall with bullets trailing millimeters behind her before the solid obstacle blocked them. With her heart racing, Claire had looked around frantically for something, anything, to protect herself with. And wouldn't you have known that one of the lifeless corpses of the dead had a gun lying only a foot away from it. She checked the chamber, smiling slightly at its full load; Claire had taken a breath, counted to 3, and fired into the stream of bullets. The sound of shattering glass could be heard, along with the cries of another human being.
"Who are you?" she asked, still a bit in shock from the experience of getting chased with bullets…again [Needless to say, Claire hadn't made it a priority to visit Paris ever again]. He seemed to have mumbled something to himself from his perch in the guard tower before calling down to her that he was coming over.
He did come down from the tower and meet her face to face, and the Redfield could still remember that despite the situation, she couldn't help but notice that Mr. Burnside was quite a handsome man. His fair complexion, haunting blue-green eyes, red tresses that fell in front of one eye, and rather well toned body certainly didn't help slow Claire's still rapidly beating heart.
Back then, she had been annoyed with the next few sentences out of his mouth, telling her that she'd be a burden to him in such an arrogant manner, but now, sitting in the winter air, she chuckled underneath her breath at the irony of his words.
"Thinking back to it, I probably saved him more than he saved me. Real smooth for my supposed knight in shining armor,"
His company would suffice for a
'Re-payment', she supposed. Claire admitted that his attitude towards her during the first hour they'd shared together had gotten on her last nerve, but she had began to recognize the crush he obviously had on her and inferred that he was trying to act tough to impress her. It had been sweet and he started to grow on her when he was actually acting like himself rather than some macho-tough guy.
Claire remembered a few brief moments where he'd let his softer side shine through. While traveling through the Ashford manor, she hadn't seen the red laser sight from Alfred's rifle, and most certainly would have died, had Steve not so bravely push her out of the way and out of harm's path. His eyes had met hers in that moment, and brunette had been quite surprised, not just from the suddenly being pushed to the ground, but rather from the complete and utter worry for her that had swam in his blue-green orbs.
Those eyes had also showed a deep loneliness after he had had to shoot the only family that he had left. He'd done it to save her, of course, but even though Steve's father had been dead from being infected with the T-virus, that didn't mean it didn't hurt the only remaining Burnside in a place deep inside his heart. But, she'd been with him, and though it could never fill that whole that having a family could, she was his, in some small way.
"And I still am," whispered Claire out loud into the bitter cold air.
When they had been on the seaplane, which had meant to be their salvation, but only led them into another hellish nightmare, she'd laid one of her fingerless-gloved covered hands on top of his, feeling the hardness of his skin from being forced to work during his imprisonment. He had looked her then too, with a sparkle of joy in his eyes for finally being able to escape, finally leaving the nightmare that had taken his father from him. Then there had been that smile, the one that revealed a pride in himself for having survived and also revealed admiration and warmth towards his partner in zombie killing crime. Her pink lips mirrored his smile, before they, together, pushed the lever forward and the plane reached towards the sky, just as their former prison exploded into oblivion.
"Of course," the young Redfield thought to herself, " that only led us to that Antarctic base, that bastard Alfred…he's still one of the creepiest people I've had the displeasure of meeting," she shuddered, remembering his unpleasant voice.
Antarctica hadn't been fun at all. The pair had been so focused on getting away from the T-Virus permanently, that they really hadn't had any time to themselves, to further explore the other's personalities. Even when they thought they'd escaped in the snow mobile, the feelings of elation had been short lived, for the real Alexia had awakened and sent the two of them flying in separate directions.
Tears formed in her eyes and started to freeze to her cheeks before she wiped them away as she remembered the last time she saw Steve alive.
The feeling of pure relief of when she had finally been reunited with her brother, Chris, had still been running through her veins as she ran through the facility, desperately trying to locate Steve. The thought of all three of them returning back home had been circling through her thoughts, making her more determined to find her teenaged companion. She had found him, eventually, but not how she had hoped.
It was a long corridor with cold stone grey walls and dimly lit. Claire couldn't really remember the rest of the room, no matter how many times she tried, because her eyes had only seen the silhouette of Steve, sitting on a throne-like chair at the end of the room, bond to it with an insanely large ax.
As she had approached him, his form had started to change, mutate into a giant monster, with green skin, spikes upon its back, and large fangs, with its red eyes only looking at her. There was no warmth coming from them, no spark that had once been Steve. Now, its eyes only held hatred and a hunger to kill. It took a hold of the ax that had once pinned Steve and began to move towards her.
There had been tears in her eyes then too, not from fear, but rather from a sense of loss, of disappointment for not being able to save him from such a horrible fate.
The gate to the room was closing itself, and Claire'd had no choice but to run with all her might and slid underneath it, just as it closed and separated her and the monster. It roared with rage, while it continued to try and reach her by swinging its weapon into the metal bars. A large, long tentacle suddenly cut of the quick breaths she had been taking, as it wrapped itself around her torso. She had struggled against it, black spots beginning to swarm at the edge of her vision, when the monster finally broke through the bars.
It was in that moment that Claire thought she would have died. Her eyes squeezed shut, anticipating the brief pain to come from the ax cutting her into two, perfectly dead halves. But, that did not happen. Carefully, she opened one of her eyes to take a look at the monster, which had seemed to be…hesitating?
Its lips moved, speaking only one word.
"C-Claire…"
Suddenly, it raised its ax and slashed at the tentacle, which dropped Claire and left her free to take in huge gulps of air that she so desperately needed. The slithering limb seemed enraged and tore through the flesh of the monster's stomach, causing it to groan with pain before it took one final swing at the tentacle, successfully slicing it in two.
She felt her heart speed up as she remembered frantically scrambling to get herself up and over to the de-mutated form of Steve, who rested against the back of one of the walls. The Redfield had kneeled next to him, trying to keep herself strong for him. She hadn't wanted him to see how terribly scared she was of losing him, after they had been so close to escaping together. Yet again, Claire placed a gloved hand upon him, but on his deathly cold cheek just as he did to her. She was so warm, said he, and he was so glad he met her. Her voice had wanted to repeat the words back to him, but he spoke only once more, proclaiming a sweet declaration of love with his last breath.
Chris had found her sobbing next to his dead body minutes later.
The snow was starting to fall harder now, soaking her knitted hat and scarf and making it much more difficult to resist the cold. Claire knew that she had probably been sitting outside for hours and should head to the florists before they closed. That was another ritual she had for this time of year: tomorrow, December 28th, was the day that he died, and she would lay a bouquet on the small grave marker she had bought for him at the cemetery.
Honestly, she couldn't let go of the hope that he could be alive. Wesker's words ran through her mind every day, but especially during this two-day period. It seemed highly unlikely that he was alive, since she hadn't seen any sign of him since he had died. Sometimes, though, she'd feel like someone was watching her, whenever she walked to the store to pick up a few thing, if she was sitting at home watching TV, or even when she was trying to fall asleep. Logically, Claire assumed it was her mind trying to cope with the loss of him by making it seem like he was with her all the time, but in her heart, she couldn't help but wish that that were the reality. You couldn't blame a girl for dreaming.
With that thought, the 32 year old stood and brushed off the snow that had accumulated in top of her while she was lost in her thoughts. Her eyes took one last glance at the moon, which shone through strongly as the clouds finally started to scatter, and then she began to walk towards the flower shop.
Tomorrow, she would lay her flowers upon his empty grave and talk to no one and pretend that he could hear her, just as she did every year for the past 13 years. But as for today, December 27th, she would celebrate with herself the life that was ended before its time, the boy that she had met on Rockfort, and the man that he surely would have become.