Writers Note: I have been wanting to write a ClaireXSteve story for a long time but only recently was I able to come up with something fitting. As always I am happy to receive suggestions, feedback, and comments. I hope you enjoy!
(Umbrella Secret Base, Texas, March 12th, 2000)
As I run through the halls, I can feel my legs beginning to spasm from the strain. But I will not give up. I have worked too hard to give up now. Wesker told me he is here somewhere, and if I know that bastard even a tenth as much as I think I do, then he wasn't lying. He doesn't need to. Filling me with hope in completing what he thinks to be an impossible or possibly pointless task is just what he wants. He wants me to feel like I have a chance. That we have a chance. Even if it is only to see him one last time. To hold him in my arms. To tell him how much he means to me.
"Steve. I will find you. Please just hold on a little while longer."
Hallway after hallway. Room after room. Even with all the red lights flashing and the sirens warning me that there are only moments before the entire building will become nothing more than a pile of rubble. All I can think, all I can envision, is Albert's last words to me.
"Yes, it is true Ms. Redfield. Mr. Burnside is indeed under our very feet. But I assure you that even if you were to get to him on time, the T-Veronica virus has already encompassed his body. It is a part of him now, which means no hope for a cure or your happy fairy-tail ending. Now goodbye my dear. I look forward to the next time we meet."
That coward. I totally had him cornered up on the roof, but of course he took the first chance he got to hop into his helicopter and fly away. Just as he always does. Just as he'll always do. Fucking bastard always talks like he is so tough. Then why is he so afraid to face one, defenseless woman? It's because he likes to toy with me. Make me his puppet. I know this and yet here I am letting him do it to me once again. But this isn't just about me. I have to save Steve. He deserves better than any of this. He saved my life for a second time and now it is my turn to save his.
A large metal door greets me at the end of the long, winding, hall. The words 'Genetics Lab' appears in bright, white, lettering above the door. I have found it. Once inside, I can't allow myself to succumb to the horrors that surely lie within. Taboo experimentation, catastrophic B.O.W.s, mutated plants, genetic monsters to the like even I have never witnessed. After all, this base was under the watch of Wesker himself. Who knows what that mad man had them doing here. Who knows what he had his team doing to Steve. Still I have to know. I have to save him. Even if that means killing him.
I use the lab key card to gain access past the door and step into the large, brightly lit, room. There are no flashing red lights, or a loud, ear piercing siren. Only the sound of bubbles, flowing from tubs, that lead into the large cylinder tanks that line each side of the room. I just know Steve has to be inside one of them. One by one I check them as I step quickly through the room. Just as I predicted there are all manner of animal, plant, and even what looks to be micro biology subjects that have been enlarged and ripped right out of some science fiction novel. No doubt the result of the Veronica virus being placed into various subjects. It's disgusting.
"Just close your heart to it Claire. You're only here for one thing. The rest of the world can wait one more day."
As I reach the end of the hall I realize there are only a few tanks left. I begin to lose hope. Steve isn't here. Wesker, he was lying after all. But that is when I see it. That auburn red hair I have been searching for. I step up closer to it, and through the tank's green, tinted, water is the silhouette of a young, emaciated, male. He is fully naked. Only a breathing tube covers his face. His long, grown out, hair gently floats at his shoulders where his hands are daintily crossed. On his left shoulder there is still the mark of his transformation. Dark, scaly, skin that travels up his neck. I can't see how far it goes because of that damn tube. Did it spread since the last time I saw him? Is that what his whole face looks like under that mask? I can't bare to think it. I want to see him smile again. The way he did back when he declared his love for me.
"I finally made it, Steve," I assure him.
I place my hand on the glass, praying that he can sense my presence and will wake up. But not a single part of him stirs. His eyes remain closed as if he is sleeping, but I know better than to believe that. I want so badly to see his baby blues stare into me. Who knows how many sedatives he has running through his system. I need to get him out. Should I just break the glass? There is no way. It is over an inch thick, plus the water fills the tank to its brim. There has to be a way to open it.
I look to the monitor set up on the right of the tank. Waking up the screen from the Umbrella logo, it presents me his info as well as status. Steve Burnside, caucasian male, age nineteen, five feet eight inches tall, one hundred and twenty eight pounds. Unconscious. I take solace in the fact that at least he is not in pain. My fingers glide through the options. I try not to panic knowing there can only be a few minutes left. History, biology, experimentation. Though I would love to read all of it, I have to just let it pass. Suddenly I see it. An option reading 'Pod Access.' With my hand shaking, I place my index finger over it and immediately the water begins to drain from the tank. Steve's hair gently falls to his back and his arms slowly drop to his sides. I realize I didn't think things all the way through. Being unconscious, he will not be able to stand up on his own two feet. As soon as the pod opens I will have to be ready to catch him.
The last of the water drains out and the seal gives way. I can feel a rush of air pull into the tank. Even though I tried to prepare myself, I am still no match for his dead weight falling towards me. I try to grab him by the arms but he just stumbles to the side and sends me chest first towards the floor. I land on top of him. His chest impacts with mine and knocks the wind out of me. I struggle to regain my breath quickly and sit myself up. He isn't breathing. I pull the tube from his lips and it makes a weird suction noise as his nose and throat mucus create a seal around is face. As I continue to slowly pull the tube to free him from it, the mucus gives away and dribbles out, onto the floor. For what feels like minutes I tug at it. Inch by inch it becomes easier to remove. Finally the end slips from his mouth. The tube had to be around two feet long. Most likely a direct feeding tube to his stomach.
He still doesn't rouse. It looks as if someone recently trimmed his facial hair. I am happy to find that his face hasn't been taken over by the scaled skin but there is a small patch on the mound of his left cheek. I run my fingertips over it. It feels even more grouse than it looks. Like the skin of a snake, only with little hairs sticking through it. He still isn't breathing. The alarm system warns that only five minutes remain. We have to get out of the building, but what can I do? He is too heavy for me to just carry out. I rub my fingers over his face and neck.
"Steve! Steve come on! I need you to wake up! Please, wake up!"
His eyes flutter while still closed but I can tell he is fighting to follow my voice.
"That's it! Come on! It's me! I'm here!"
His eyelids open slightly. He struggles to see. It's most likely been a long time since he last opened them. He looks around the ceiling then his eyes lock onto mine. I expected him to smile just from seeing me but instead he gives me a saddened expression.
His voice is so weak and still garbled by the mucus. I can barely make out the words, "Claire? What are you still doing here? You must... find a way out of this... frozen prison."
His words confuse me. "Frozen prison? You mean the arctic? But Steve, we're not in Antarctica anymore."
Before I can even finish my sentence his eyes close once again and he falls back unconscious. I can't help myself from shedding a tear. All this time he must have been asleep. He has no idea how long he has been gone or that he has been part of Wesker's experiments. I suppose that's probably for the better. The alarm warns again. Only four minutes left.
I scan the room with my eyes for any way to move him. On the far end, I see a stretcher propped up against the wall. I rush over to it and set its tires down on the floor. Even with a way to wheel him out, I would have to get him onto the thing. I look for a lever and am overjoyed to find that it has a height adjustment. I hurry back to Steve's side and lower the stretcher to the floor. It still rests about six inches from the floor so I have to lift him up onto it. I start with taking him underneath the arms and lifting his upper body onto it. It isn't easy. Not only is he heavy, he is covered in a thin layer of slime that makes it almost impossible for me to get my grip not to slip all over. Once I am certain that he isn't going to just slide back off, I switch my attention to his legs. At first I try to just lift him by the ankles and slide him over, but his butt wont raise up high enough for me to do so. The alarm sounds again. Three minutes left.
"Holy fuck! There isn't going to be enough time!"
Sucking in my pride I shove my left arm under his waistline and my right arm under his butt and lift. His cock is now directly in front of my face. Only about a half an inch closer and it will be the first time I have ever felt a man's penis against my skin. All through my teen years I never envisioned things happening like this. With one more swift shift of my legs and back, I am able to get him on the stretcher. Knowing there is no time to spare, I bring the stretcher back up off the floor and quickly wheel him towards the door. As we make it to the end of the hall I discover a cleaning cart and grab one of the white sheets folded on top of it. Still moving, I manage to unfold the sheet and drape it over Steve's body. The alarm sounds again. Two minutes remaining.
"Shit! What am I gonna do? What can I do?"
I notice a large glass window down the hall to my right. Remembering the building's layout, there should be a small drop off just on the other side. It's our only shot. I grab my walkie talkie and bring it up to my lips.
"This is Claire Redfield calling chopper one. Chopper one can you hear me?"
A male voice answers on the other side. "This is chopper one. What is your location? Over."
"I'm at the second floor's north hall. I need a pick up on top of the east building roof. Do you copy?"
"You want us to what?"
"Look, I don't have time to argue! Can you bring the chopper up to the east rooftop or not?"
"I suppose we can try. How are you going to get there? There are no doors to that rooftop?"
"I got a plan. It's crazy, but it's our best shot."
"Please be careful Claire! Don't do anything rash! We have a rescue team standing by."
"Good, cause we are going to need them. Over and out."
The pilot continues to try to talk me out of it but I ignore his pleads. We were going home, tonight. I lean down a give Steve a kiss on the mouth. It is very wet and not in the way I wanted but it would have to do.
"I love you," I whisper to him. "Just hold on."
At full force I run straight for the window. I only pray that the metal bar on the end of the stretcher will be tough enough to break through instead of sending us careening backward. I scream at the top of my lungs. My chest feeling like it is about to burst from adrenaline. The stretcher connects with the glass. It shatters and I find myself falling forward as the stretcher falls from the edge of the building to the one a storey below us. Even in my panicked state, I try to keep Steve moving in a forward motion and thankfully he lands on the roof below still upright. It doesn't remain that way however. As I land hard on my left shoulder, I see him drift to the side, fall from the stretcher, and roll onto the rooftop. With his body limp, it looks so much more painful than I imagined it would.
"Steve!" I shout with my arm outreached to him. With the chopper no where in site, I feel helpless. "Someone help him!" I shout again.
Just then the chopper finds its way to us. It lands on the rooftop and a group of people in hazmat suits jump out to gather us both quickly. It takes three of them to pick Steve up off the ground a place him into the chopper. The fourth person tries to lift me up into their arms but once on my feet I rush myself to Steve's side. We all hop back inside and the pilot lifts off. As we fly away, I look back to the Umbrella base and watch as it crumbles into the earth. Once satisfied that it is really destroyed, I look back to Steve. The B.S.A.A. medical team are quick to get him strapped to an I.V. and oxygen mask. He opens his eyes slightly and I give him a teary smile.
"You're going to be okay now."