The longest night, the darkest day

Claire was chewing nervously on the tip of her thumb as her eyes followed the lines on the bed-sheet-sized package insert attentively, wondering if it was appropriate to fear she could harm herself and/or others while holding a stick into her pee. Tired from having bent over the sink for comfort for too long, she stood upright and glanced back at the pink paper box from which a woman in her late twenties smiled happily at her, probably because her result had been the expected one. Oh, she envied those lucky people who actually knew what to pursue in life.

She still believed it was ridiculous. Fine, her body had shown some confusing symptoms, and after the fainting, the bad reflux coffee gave her lately, and the fact that her menstrual cycle had been far from regular in the previous months, it was no wonder that Kathy believed she could be unknowingly and unwantedly pregnant, but there was a good explanation. She had been very busy with TerraSave and very, very worried about her brother, Sherry and Piers, and if she didn't sleep nor eat well, how could she expect her body to work normally? She was thirty-three, she barely had sex anyway and she was on birth control, which could also be the reason for her period not to show up.

Also, it would be a fairly evil twist of fate if the only night in six fucking months she'd spent with her boyfriend would have resulted in her getting knocked up, especially after Piers had literally rejected her marriage proposal. She didn't blame him. It had been sincere, but strangely unromantic and a little thoughtless, and the fact that she was trying to make important life choices while her brother wasn't only away but lost didn't make it any better. What would it look like now if Piers came back and she was pregnant ? A bad-willed mind would probably suggest that she was trying to tie him to her with a child. Claire wiped her face with her hand in exasperation and looked back at the smiling woman on the paper box. Maybe she was so fucking happy because she had just learned that nobody would ever say that she had forgotten the pill on purpose. With all of those thoughts on her mind and shallow breaths providing too little oxygen, she grabbed the test and tore the wrapper open.

It was time to get an answer.

He wasn't sure if it was the pain of the lost arm, the blood loss or the fact that he had been awake for over forty-eight hours, but the sample on the ground seemed to shine like a traffic light in a starless night. His mind spun, caught between a deep mourning for his lost extremity and career, the fear for his Captain and of what he was about to do. Because he was doing it, wasn't he?

Was he willing to become a monster?

He swallowed dry, trying to ignore the pulsating of his heart in his chest and of the B.S.A.A. badge on his shoulder which were trying to distract him. If he thought twice, hesitated just a second longer, he would change his mind, and Chris didn't need a change of mind; Chris needed actions. With that thought running through his head, Piers crawled forward as fast as his one arm would carry him until he had the sample in his reach, his tongue flicking dryly over his lips as he briefly analyzed on which end the needle was. It glowed brightly in his gloved hand. After shortly flipping the syringe in his fingers, he swallowed once more and with a determined push, he pressed the infecting needle into the open wound on his shoulder, letting the virus enter his system and intensify the cramps that numbed his entire body.

It burnt from the inside out, the feeling of a thousand tiny stings pushing their way through his vessels caused him to shut his eyes and curl in ache. His skin was on fire; it had to be; there was no other way to explain the burning heat that embraced him, and when the pressure ran up into his head, something popped, it ached, and he believed his eye would explode. With his heart rate shooting up to unbearable levels, Piers pushed himself onto his feet again, surrounded by his own agonizing scream and a disgusting crackle on the right side of his head as an electrifying sensation crawled through his limbs, soon causing the phantom pain of the lost arm to fade. His eyes fluttered open, and blood was dripping in long, slick rivers from his chest and face. It was terrifying, he realized when he gathered the courage to actually take a look at what the virus had done to him, and he saw that swollen something emerging from his shoulder, all throbbing, warm and gigantic, but, oh, the rush of power it set into his body was truly magnificent. It didn't look like one of the J'avo's arms, as the mass seemed much softer and slimier than the awkward dried-out bat wings some of their enemies had shown off when they'd reacted to physical trauma. Physical trauma; was that what had happened to him, too? The virus apparently regenerated lost parts, even though it did it on its own terms.

A tiny spark surfaced on the tip of the finger-like lumps that had grown on the end of the new arm and the soft tickle made him feel surprisingly comfortable. Turning his head to the left, Piers was reminded of the critical situation that had pushed him to inject himself with the unknown virus, and he was ready to show that monstrosity that nobody and nothing fucked with the B.S.A.A. One step after another, still adjusting to his unfamiliar new form, he ran toward the beast that was still holding his Captain in its grasp, clumsily trying to make the spark appear again. If that thing was made of organic matter, it wouldn't enjoy getting roasted, he thought, and just prayed that he wouldn't harm Chris in the process.

"Piers!" he heard his Captain scream, but he didn't let the yell distract him. He didn't know how he was doing it, but when his arm began to vibrate violently, sending sparks of fury rolling over his skin, he knew that he was doing something right , and the decision to lift his hand and electrocute the B.O.W. came easily.

The thing roared loudly and let go of Chris, who rolled over the ground into a squat. Debilized for a second, the B.O.W. got caught by the shutting door and more blood was sprayed all over the floor, giving Chris the chance to start firing his last rounds into the already dying abomination.

"Oh God, Piers!" he howled, visibly shaken by the sight, as he approached the mutated form of the young lieutenant. "What did you do?"

That was a good question, actually; one with an easy answer and many complicated ones. Had he just injected himself with an unknown virus to save his Captain, or had he betrayed everything he had believed in to become one of the monsters they had been fighting, only to rescue Chris and save the future of the B.S.A.A.?

The truth was, he wasn't sure anymore. There had been so many good reasons to do it; like bravery or the chance to die like a hero, unlike his father; the B.S.A.A., which needed a leader like Captain Redfield, his spirit and his expertise; the will to save his Captain and to bring him back to his sister.

His sister.

The thought of Claire struck like lightning, and a feeling of guilt overcame him as he remembered her. Just as his blurry mind rushed back home to the redhead, the cocoon the huge B.O.W. had turned back into split open and the thing hatched for the second time that day.

"Piers!" Chris added, and he could see the sweat drops on his forehead stand out like shining stars. "You have to fight it! Try to stay in control!"

He jumped back, dodging the B.O.W. as it leaped out of the porous shell and he felt a hand on his chest. When he turned his head to the side, he found the face of his Captain, and that ever-lasting strength he had always given his unit.

"Piers! Come on! Just stay with me. You're gonna be okay!"

And for a moment, he even believed it.

It was unbelievable how long two minutes could be. Claire sat on the floor with her head between her knees, her fingers crossed in her nape, and her mind spinning around many different things. Her thoughts were mostly with the two men in her life, who were currently fighting for peace on the other side of the planet, while she was on the floor waiting for a line to show up on a stick. What a mess this was. Not even Leon had made her feel as bad and useless as this hypothetically impossible pregnancy Kathy had made up for her.

Leon .

The thought of her friend put a frown onto her tired face as Jill's words about Leon's implication in the assassination of the president came back to her. That was ridiculous, too. Leon and Adam Benford had been close friends for many years, so close that the blond had been invited to the wedding of the president's daughter the previous year and forgiven when he hadn't shown up. Claire was absolutely sure that the two men had gone to more than just one strip club together — before Benford had become the president, probably. And now they were saying Leon had planned the attack on Tall Oaks in which not only his friend, but seventy thousand other people had lost their lives? That he had died in the same attack? What would they imply next? That Chris would kill his sister, maybe?

Her eyes jumped to the stick next to the sink, the tiny result displayed far out of her sight. Admittedly, a positive test result would give her brother a good reason to kill her, or lock her away from mankind, at least.

She couldn't help laughing at the thought.

Climbing to her feet, Claire reached for the test and tossed it into the trash can when the result hadn't appeared yet. She ran her fingers through her hair and tied it back into a tiny bun, she washed her face and spun back to the bathroom door. With a swift turn of her wrist, she pulled it open and stepped out into the world again, determined to stop feeling useless.

Even if she was pregnant, she would wait for the father to come home, so they could find out together.

"I'm sorry… Captain…"

That voice inside his head was getting louder. It had been whispering at him that he was attacking the wrong being whenever he had shot the electric thunder that emerged from his artificial, mutated arm against the huge skull-faced B.O.W., but the soft murmur had turned by now into an ear-piercing shriek whenever he as much as thought about using his newly gained powers against someone or something that wasn't Chris. He had fought it off so far, even though it cost him all of his willpower, but they had been victorious, adding just another bullet point to the endless list of B.O.W.s Chris Redfield had eliminated. As he stared down at the lifeless body, Piers became aware that, this time, he wouldn't stand next to his Captain when he'd return from battle. His remaining human eye blinked at his Captain as his accelerated heartbeat slowly went down again.

"I did it for the B.S.A.A. For the future!"

And even in the last of his hours, Chris showed him just what an amazing Captain he was.

"I know!" he said with the proud tone of a father, laying his arm around Piers' shoulder. "You did a real good thing!"

Smiles and nods of comradeship were exchanged as Chris' grip around his shoulders fastened, a promise that he wouldn't leave his man behind. Piers felt the regret surface in the shape of a teardrop that began to push out and drowned in the blood that was still dripping from his eye. He knew it was too late for him, and his weak reasoning tried everything to hold on to the last hint of hope he had.

"As long as you—" he began to mouth but Chris interrupted him rebelliously.

"I don't wanna hear it!" With a strong hand placed on the back of his lieutenant's head, the Captain forced their looks to meet. "We're both getting outta here, all right?"

And Piers almost believed it.

"Let's go."

The situation was as stable as it could be after a terror attack that had cost hundred thousands of lives, estimatedly. The local Terra Save teams had been retrieved and were now operating from outside of the danger zone, in an area outside the city limits where survivors were directed to. The B.S.A.A. had the situation inside the city under control, despite the numerous losses among their own people. Things were going slowly, but they were all certain that 95% of the zone would be cleared in a couple of days. The fact that the virus was barely contagious was beneficial, but the main advantage Tatchi had was that it was Chinese territory, and as much as the US Government wanted to, they couldn't intervene. That was the reason that had saved the district and its perimeter from being nuked to control the outbreak and eliminate the threat, and Claire was thankful that the zone where Piers and her brother were currently located wasn't meeting the same fate as Raccoon City, Terragrigia or Tall Oaks.

Moira tossed her phone onto the table and dropped into the chair with a heavy sigh. Claire was proud of the young woman. This had been her first big operation, a very particular one, and she had done brilliantly.

"You deserve a rest," Claire said with a wink. "You did really well today."

"Thank you," Moira said with a smile and let her eyes fall shut as she breathed out. "How are you ?"

Claire sank into a different chair herself, unable to give her friend more than a shrug. No matter what answer she would give her, she would be lying. Caught between concern, agitation, relief and exhaustion, she had no words to accurately explain how she was feeling, and she was glad that Moira smiled understandingly once her eyes fluttered open again.

"I know. It's okay," the girl said. "It'll soon be over."

Claire nodded, thankful that she was spared giving an explanation now that she just wanted to rest and hope that everything would really be over soon. The buzzing of her phone made her jump up, and she answered the call with a hint of urgency in her voice.

"Jill!"

"I have news," the blonde said on the other end of the line. "You'll be happy to hear that Leon has just reappeared…" The clearing of her throat merged into a laugh. "Magically."

Claire exhaled, the smile of relief growing big on her lips.

"I told you there was something going on. How is he?"

Jill laughed.

"The F.O.S. says he just escaped Tatchi."

Claire frowned amusedly. If she was honest, it didn't surprise her that Leon had been in China too.

"Someone in Terra Save spoke about a plane crash," she replied. "I wonder if he was implicated."

"Most certainly," Jill laughed. "He's proven his innocence, too. This hasn't been made public yet, but he apparently handed in information about Derek Simmons' implication in this all. Tall Oaks, the president's death. It was his doing."

Derek Simmons. National Security Advisor and Sherry's legal tutor and supervisor had always seemed a very gloomy, suspicious man to Claire, and the news that he had been the one pulling the strings in the attack on the president came rather unshockingly.

"What about Lanshiang?"

"You don't seem to be surprised." Jill pointed out amusedly.

"I'm definitely not," Claire replied. "Lanshiang?"

"Related," Jill affirmed. "It's all confusing. There are notes about a researcher named Carla Radames, who worked with him in the past. It says she became the subject of an experiment with the C-Virus that made her look like Ada Wong."

Claire sucked in a breath.

"You shitting me?"

Jill sighed in defeat.

"I know it sounds weird. We have to find out more about this process and the virus, understand it, control it, destroy it. But this is all I know right now."

Millions of thoughts ran through Claire's mind as she listened to the information her friend was sharing with her. Leaning back in the chair, she lifted her heavy feet and slammed them onto the desk next to her, realizing the swollen rings that had puffed up where her ankles had once been.

"Goddamnit," she breathed, referring both to the obvious change her body was experiencing and to the news that there was now someone else walking around with the face of Ada Wong. "Do you think she could be the one who attacked Chris' unit in Edonia?"

She could almost hear Jill shrug her shoulders.

"Could be."

Claire ran her fingers through her hair and sighed again. They would find out soon enough if the mysterious woman who had killed Alpha team six months before was Ada Wong or just someone who looked like her. Now there were other things to focus on.

"Any news about Chris?"

Jill hummed affirmingly.

"Yes, and that's the real reason why I'm calling," she said and made Claire's heart pound hard. "No bad news so far. HQ reports he and Nivans are on a rescue mission."

That made Claire frown.

"A rescue mission? All of a sudden?"

Jill chuckled.

"It seems that there is a subject whose blood has antibodies that can help create a vaccine against the C virus ," she said. " He went missing six months ago along with National Security Agent Birkin."

Claire sucked in a sharp breath.

"The man Sherry was escorting," she yelped. "Is she...?"

"I think they're still together," the blonde confirmed and Claire sighed in relief. "Chris will get them both out, Claire."

Claire nodded at the words, certain that Chris Redfield and Piers Nivans were going to save the girl she had once rescued from the fangs and claws of her father and the ruins of Raccoon City, and whom she had believed to be dead.

"Thank you, Jill," she replied. "Thank you for every update."

Jill deserved all her gratitude, as the blonde was busy with the tactical analysis of the data she was sent from the front, and she still found time to give Claire a call every now and then, knowing how much the redhead craved good news from China. Jill had always been like a sister to her and, whenever Chris and his unit were abroad, she was Claire's main connection to her brother.

She wondered if there was still hope that Chris and Jill would overcome their stupidity and make the blonde Claire's sister-in-law someday.

"You're more than welcome."

All the barriers had been broken, all enemies defeated, and what was left was barely twenty feet of final sprint towards the escape pods, and when they had almost reached the next door, another part of his humanity left him, and his right leg gave in to the weight of the pulsating arm.

"Piers!" Chris' voice reached him like an echo, as though he spoke to him through an endless tunnel, but the touch of his hands on his shoulders was real. He felt it. He also sensed his desperation facing the mutation his second-in-command was succumbing to. "Damn it!"

Piers turned his weighty head to Chris and gasped for air.

"Just go!" His hand gestured towards the doors, the rest of his human mind wanting to spare his captain the pitiful image of another conscienceless Alpha team soldier, but Chris was headstrong, and unable to give up.

"No! You're gonna be OK!" He said in a tone so determined that he almost convinced the young man as he pulled his arm over his own shoulders "We're almost there."

Almost.

The doors slid open and two rows of valves came to show.

"The escape pods!" Chris howled as the two men walked and limped toward the closest pod, where the Captain helped his lieutenant sit down to rest. "See that? We'll be outta here in no time."

He would have replied, had he still had a voice to speak, but all he could bring up by now was a painful grunt that scratched in his windpipe, and so he let the Captain jump back to his feet and inspect the valve that would open the door to the closest escape pod, while he himself could barely move, or recall his own name.

His head turned to the left, where the B.S.A.A. badge sat proudly on his upper arm. Was he even worthy of wearing it anymore, now that he had become one of the things they fought to destroy? The anxious craving of blood was taking over the rest of his conscience, and the tickle in his mutated arm as he watched Chris was hard to withstand. He would soon be gone for good, and his Captain would be forced to take him down.

He couldn't let that happen, he forced himself to decide, and grazed the badge on his arm with his chin.

"Come on… Got it!" he heard his Captain say as the access to the pod opened and the older man turned back to him, offering him his hand.

"Here we go, Piers. We're getting out of here," Chris said, leaving Piers wondering where he took all his optimism from. The wounded lieutenant put his hand into his Captain's palm and let him pull him back onto his feet.

He had tried to prevent him.

He had tried to dissuade him but it hadn't worked. Now that he couldn't speak , feeling how the last bit of humanity drooled out of his mouth in a mere growl, he needed to communicate with actions.

Long realized he wouldn't be able to make Chris change his mind, Piers freed his hand from Chris' grasp before crossing the threshold to the escape pod, leaving the badge he had pulled off of his sleeve resting in the older man's hand. Chris stared at him, confused and full of fear, but before he could speak out, Piers he slammed his human arm into the older man's chest, causing him to stumble backwards into the pod and fall onto his back.

And he saw the horror on his Captain's face when he shut the door between them, a sad farewell for two people who had fought together for so long. Chris was quickly back on his feet and ramming his whole two hundred twenty pounds against the door of the escape pod as he yelled at him.

"Piers! Don't do this! Open the door!"

He had to know that he wouldn't, but that didn't keep Chris Redfield from trying.

"Goddamn it, listen to me!" the Captain yelled against the glass of the pod. "We can still both get outta here! There's still time!"

The water was pressing through the openings in the walls in dense streams and Piers understood that there was no time to waste. He turned to the mechanism next to the door and the pounding of Chris' fists against the glass of the door weakened.

"What are you doing?"

Maybe the Captain finally comprehended that all attempts were in vain, and that he was the only one who was escaping the facilities.

"No, Piers, don't! You can still make it out!"

Okay, maybe he comprehended, but he kept trying. With one hand on the lever, Piers pushed the plug into the device and activated the launch, and the whole area was bathed in red light instantly.

"No!" Chris' yells became louder, turning into such desperate cries that Piers felt sorry for his Captain. "Piers! Open the goddamn door — that's an order!"

Orders. Hah! Had he been able to feel anymore he would have curled himself in laughter. He was barely able to withstand the thirst for destruction and keep a somewhat human thought on his mind, it was hilarious to believe that he was able to obey orders. "No..."

He glanced through the glass, exchanging one last look with the man who had been like an older brother to him and all the other men who had died in this never ending war. Chris didn't deserve to be the only survivor in the escape pod, always worried about his men and treating them like family, but he didn't deserve to have to kill those men either, like Piers had once been forced to kill Andy, Carl, Ben and Finn, who had died reaching for Chris' guiding hand. His blurry mind slipped back to his dead comrades, and he felt peace, true peace, for the first time since Edonia, because he was finally bringing back the Captain the B.S.A.A. was missing, and the brother his redhead needed so much..

And it hurt. Because said redhead and the hope for a future with her was the one reason that should have stopped him from signing his own death warrant. How often had he pictured himself growing old next to her? A painful smile grew on his lips as the image of the house and the garden in the sunlight came back to him. It was the one dream he'd had ever since he'd blown the candle on the improvised birthday muffin; his beautiful redhead waiting for him to come home, holding a baby boy barely a few weeks old in her arms as the older sister came running towards him, words like Daddy and I missed you bubbling out of her little mouth. So much for the one male heir. The images fought against the dark storm clouds that invaded his head, the thirst for blood and flesh lying on the tip of his tongue, the need to feel bones break itching in his fingers — the human and inhuman ones. His hand pressed against the door as he tried to mouth one last message for Claire to her brother, but every sound he could make was the growling warcry of a dying animal. His body wasn't his anymore, and there was just one thing he could hold on to before he died.

'Don't forget her,' he thought to himself as the escape pod was ejected into the ocean, and the screams of his Captain got lost in the immensity of nothingness, swallowed by the depth. 'Don't forget her before you die.'

A drop of sadness surfaced from the bloody tear duct, itching its way down his cheek as he watched the escape pod drift through the dark waters, slowly making its way towards the surface of the ocean. Back to freedom, back to life, back to Claire. Yes, Piers thought, he had kept his one promise, bringing the lost brother back to the redhead who had no other family, and the sensation of satisfaction and care almost beat the fear of the imminent death and the one of losing his conscience and himself to the effect of C.

'Just a little longer, please,' he prayed, hoping that the thought would help him focus as the structure around him began to crackle. 'I'll be dead soon.'

Claire deserved to be the last thought on his mind before leaving the world, and he would hold on to the memory of her as long as possible. He regretted not telling her one last time how much she meant to him, that the little time they had spent together had been the happiest of his life, and that the meaning she and her brother had given to his existence was worth to be repaid with a sacrifice like this.

Because Claire needed her brother.

The house in the sunlight and the two beautiful kids with the stunning redhead would be someone else's. Claire would survive as long as Chris was with her.

The thought of his redhead had him fascinated, even caught in sorrow and hurt, and it caused him to be wide awake when the skull-faced B.O.W. from before swooshed into the ocean right next to him. That goddamn thing wouldn't give up easily, it seemed, but neither would he.

Pillar after pillar of the facility were breaking under the weight of the destabilized structure and the immense pressure of the water masses outside, but he was willing to give his last breath to the destruction of that massive B.O.W. and send Chris back to Claire. Gathering his thoughts and all his power, he let the sparks run across his arm, soon charged with all his fury, and before the creature could leave his reach, he thundered his wish for Claire's well-being into the dark waters, straight into the body of the monster.

Something blasted behind him and the ceiling came down. Just like that. Through the corner of his human eye, Piers saw the rotting, destroyed figure of the B.O.W. sink back down to his tomb, where the flames of the destruction would consume it — and him along with it.

'Don't be sad, Claire. Forgive me.'

Whether it was a delayed flight, the queue in the grocery store or the night before her birthday; Claire Redfield hated waiting, and it didn't particularly make it easier now that it was news about her brother and Piers she was waiting for. She had given up walking hastily across the room when her feet had begun to hurt and burn, but even now that she was seated in the comfy armchair, with her legs lifted, she wasn't feeling any better. She needed to do something.

"They're fine, Claire," Moira repeated, her arms slung into a tight cross in front of her chest. "Stop worrying. You know your brother. He's been through worse."

Claire exhaled in exasperation. The dark-haired girl wasn't wrong about her superhuman brother, the man who had punched a boulder in order to kill Albert Wesker—if Sheva Alomar's version of the facts was trustworthy— and it was easy to believe that he would get out of any Chinese disaster too, but time ran, hours stretched, and faith and hope were slowly consumed. It was late afternoon and about time Chris came back and reported to HQ that he, Piers and Sherry were alive and fine. Unfortunately, she had been waiting in vain so far.

"Jill!" She saw the phone screen light up and hit the answer key even before the device could start vibrating. "How is he?"

"He's fine. A team has just rescued him from the ocean." Jill's voice was light, only loaded with relief. "He was floating in an escape pod in the middle of the sea."

Claire let her head drop back as she realized how little she really cared how Chris had made it out of the Chinese hellhole, just happy that he was alright. She slowly got up, feeling hope giving her new forces to stand.

"I knew Piers would take care of him," she vaguely whispered as she let her body relax. The sigh Jill released, though, startled her back into a state of urgency.

"About that… "

No.

It felt like an invisible rope slung around her neck, so strongly that she didn't catch enough air to speak.

"Nivans was killed."

Three words, so perfectly known by her on their own but, said together, one after another in the same sentence, they lost all their meaning. Nivans. Was. Killed.

It hurt pretty bad for something she didn't dare understand.

"Are you sure?" It was all she could respond, her last resources of hope pushing out and searching for something to hold onto.

"Unfortunately, yes," Jill replied. "Only Chris has come back."

The ground under her seemed to vanish, threatening to swallow Claire and everything she was, everything she believed in and everything she had fought for. Nothing was important anymore.

"Oh god," she mouthed softly through her shaky lips as she dropped against the table, her fingers beginning to search the surface for support. Moira was by her side instantly, the look on her face showing that the girl had understood everything. She was such a clever girl. Still struggling with reality, all the redhead could bring out was a soft, "Poor Chris."

She heard Jill clear her throat somewhere far away. She perceived more meaningless words like infected and underwater facility and C virus , and hadn't Moira stood beside her, she knew she would have collapsed under the weight of them all.

"Oh, Claire," Moira whispered, her right arm slung around her friend's shoulder.

Claire blinked twice as the remaining air left her lungs.

"Sherry is fine, too, by the way. You can stop worrying, Claire," Jill said. "It's over now."

Although happy about it, not even the news about her protegee's well-being could lift her mood, and Claire felt her head sink into a slow nod.

"Yes," she repeated after Jill. "It's over."

"I'm so sorry," she heard Moira say when she hung up and turned her face to the girl. Her friend had tears glistening in the corners of her eyes; bright and shiny, they protruded from the darkness of her face like stars, and Claire found herself wondering why Moira was crying as though it was her boyfriend who had just died in a battle in a goddamn underwater facility in China. Infected. Mutated.

Dead.

Piers was dead.

"Excuse me a second, please," Claire whispered and freed herself from the grip of Moira's cold arms, ignoring her friend's yells of concern as she stumbled into the bathroom in search for the hopeless comfort of solitude. She shut the door behind herself, not even caring to lock it. With both hands palpating the edge of the pearly sink, she turned her head up to find the stare through the empty eyes of a stranger, broken and torn, deprived of sleep and hope; a stranger that casually wore her features and clothes.

Keeping one hand curling around the sink for support, and the other pressed to her chest, Claire intuitively checked if the exaggeratedly loud and painful vital sign in her ribcage was to be calmed somehow, with positive thoughts and loving words. She had none, though, and the hurtful hammering of her heart was soon joined by a twist of her stomach, a blubbering in the cavity that said something wanted to…

She barely reached the toilet before the hard impact of reality sent her food back up her throat and the tuna sandwich returned to greet her once more. Claire coughed in pain, spitting out the disgusting taste of bile and bitterness, wishing she could throw up all her organs and die in the bathroom on the lower floor of the Burton residence, alone with her pain and fears, just like Piers must have spent the last minutes of his life, if not of his sanity.

Mutated. The sheer thought made her gag once more. He had died mutated like one of the monsters they had been fighting all their life, like William Birkin, like Neil Fisher, like Albert and Alex Wesker and all the other bad guys who had been harassing the world. But Piers had been one of the good guys. The good guys didn't deserve to die like monsters.

She didn't know how the tears had started flowing, but by the time she realized she was crying, they were already raining from her eyes abundantly. She was so tired of everything, of trying and failing, of hoping and being deceived, of loving and losing, and with exhaustion pulling on her limbs, she dropped to the ground as soon as she'd flushed away the pitiful rest of her lunch and laid her bones to rest on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. Curled into a ball, she gave her weary self to tears and sorrow, and she cried until her eyes, throat and lungs hurt.

"I love you," she whispered among sobs and blinked into the dying sunlight that flooded the tiny bathroom, and through the shimmer of her tears, she actually saw the face she was speaking to. After a couple of sobs more, Claire breathed slowly. "They say you're dead."

Piers abandoned his kneeling position by her side and laid down on the floor, facing her. He looked so peaceful and handsome, dressed in his uniform, with those wonderful hazel eyes shimmering in the orange shine of the afternoon.

"If they say so."

Claire's face distorted in sorrow, fighting to hold back another rush of tears.

"How am I going to do this without you?" her voice was weak, intermittently enlacing with sobs "I didn't believe anymore that I was going to ever find love. How can you teach me how to love again and then leave me?"

He didn't say anything. He just gave her one of those beautiful smiles that had always made her feel stronger, just that it didn't have the desired effect on her this time. This time, it reminded her of everything she had loved and lost, and it just made her want to rip her own heart out.

"I said I love you, Claire, and you know I meant it," she heard Piers' voice faintly in the background. "And that I'm sorry I can't come back to you, but you're strong, Claire. There is nothing that you can't do." She swallowed, her throat throbbing with a stinging ache as her fingers reached out for him, coming to a stop only inches away from his cheek. She knew that, if she tried to touch him, he would vanish, and she wasn't ready to see him go yet. Her hand dropped defeatedly as Piers sighed sadly. "You need to get up, Claire. Chris needs you now. Also, there's something else you need to take care of."

She nodded softly. After wiping away the tears, she slowly got up, climbing to her knees in clumsy moves. She felt the obsessive stare of Piers' ghost on her as she crawled towards the trashcan and peeked into the container, fishing out the stick she had discarded earlier. Before looking at the display, Claire glimpsed back at the spot where she had just seen Piers, finding it empty again. With a heavy heart, and before the tears could shoot up once more, she turned the stick, ready to face whatever it was going to tell her.

"Claire?" Moira barely knocked before opening the door, the expression of compassion and sorrow spread all over her face as she found her friend sitting on the floor. "Oh, Claire."

The young woman dropped to her knees next to the redhead, looping her arms around her and placing her head onto her shoulder.

"He didn't deserve this," she whispered. " You don't deserve this."

Maybe she was right. Maybe she deserved better; Piers did, for sure. Claire's hand crawled up and softly stroked Moira's as her head turned slightly towards the younger woman.

"Thank you," she whispered, feeling another tear roll down her cheek as she held up the stick with the decisive message on it. "What am I going to do with this?"

And Moira sucked in a short stream of air.

A/N: I'm so sorry. Not only for the added drama and tragedy in this chapter, but also for the endless wait. Next chapter will be the last one of Secrets, but I am decided to write a sequel to this, changing the pairing, obviously :( That second part will have to wait a bit, though. I'd really like to finish other works before starting the new one so the wait between chapters won't be too long (again).

Many thanks and (distant) hugs and kisses to everyone who has been reading this.

Guest reviewer 1: No! Crying alone isn't half as fun lol Please accept my gift of love and angst and drama. And thanks for crying with me. I hope you're doing well. How is the baking going?

Xaori loves you all!