Walk you through

Humidity had eaten its way through the walls of the old building, dyeing stains of dark yellow into the lower corner of the room, and the blotch stood out plainly from the otherwise impeccable white walls, no matter how many drawer units they placed in front to hide it. Claire's look was glued to the outer contour that waved around the circle, dying for a distraction from the angry typing Doctor May, the obstetrician, was performing on the keyboard.

"I assume we don't know the date you conceived."

Her eyes shot to the old lady, to the tightly tied-back silver hair and the pointy nose that wrinkled whenever she was forced to speak to her patient. Since she had dropped that she was having her first prenatal check in her eleventh week of pregnancy, Claire had been treated like an irresponsible teenager, a woman who didn't care about her body nor the life she was carrying, and she had become cautious about giving away more information throughout the twenty minutes she had been sitting in front of the old lady.

"Most probably between the twenty-second and the twenty-fourth of April," she responded matter-of-factly through her grinding teeth and left the woman covered in arrogant bafflement.

No, she was no natural organization talent, capable of noting down every single intercourse, hormone and ovulation cycle, which would lead her to knowing when exactly she had been impregnated, but she causally remembered the only fucking time she'd had such intercourse in the previous six months because it had been on Piers' birthday. The date of her last period had come from the agenda of Moira, who remembered the day she had mutated into her emergency tampon-provider because it had been the same day they'd had the meeting with the board of directors about the future of the camp in India.

"But I thought I was here so you could tell me."

The obstetrician chuckled in malicious offense and Claire now seriously regretted having chosen one of the practices Terra Save had listed as bioterrorism-safe, only because she couldn't speak about her T-Phobos infection to just any health-care provider.

"We'll proceed with the physical exam, then."

Claire thought that the OBGYN exam chairs were the most obscene apparatus ever, and nothing would ever change her mind. She found herself staring at the ceiling until she pictured it would come down on them, only to avoid Doctor May's cold look while she snapped on her the surgical gloves and the mask.

"Terra Save sent me all the data about the T-Phobos virus," she pronounced as she rolled her chair between Claire's feet and maneuvered the cold exam tools under the sheet that covered the redhead's lower parts.

Terra Save hadn't sent shit. She herself had been the one who had informed the practice about the infection and all possible consequences based on the little they actually knew about the virus.

"This seems to be a very nasty infection."

"Will you do an ultrasound, too?" Claire asked coldly, ignoring the practitioner's comment about the virus and hiding how intimidated she felt by the older woman. Doctor May clicked her tongue.

"My dear, we'll have to check other things first before you can have a look at your child. I'll have to see what this…" She stopped to wrinkle her nose again. "T-phobos you caught could be doing to the fetus."

Caught? Had that old witch really just said she had caught the T-Phobos? Claire shifted in the exam chair, sitting up to launch Doctor May with a look of despise.

"Don't move, Miss Redfield, I'm going to hurt you!" the doctor exclaimed and hissed as their gazes met. "Listen…"

"No," Claire fought the icy hand of the obstetrician off her thighs."You listen to me! I am very sorry that I am not a freshly married woman in her twenties who is excited as shit about the pregnancy — or whatever you consider your role model patient. Are you treating all women like you are treating me right now? Do you even understand what you are saying?" She was fighting back the stinging behind her eyelids, praying she wouldn't just burst into tears in front of the woman who had just seen her parts. "The T-Phobos isn't something you catch when you have unprotected sex or don't wear a scarf in winter. The T-Phobos isn't contagious. It needs to be administered to you. I was drugged, kidnapped and infected. Do you know what that means?" She shouted, swinging her legs off the chair as Doctor May retreated, her face still emotionless. "And just so you know, I didn't know about my pregnancy because I was busy setting up camps to give shelter to survivors of terror outbreaks, and I'm only here because you are the least probable option for my brother to find out about this, because…"

She stopped.

She stopped raging and thought about what she was going to say next. Chris had been back for one week after the tragic happenings in China, and he hadn't been dealing well with the outcome of their intervention and the recently recovered memories of many, many losses keeping him awake. The nightmares had been so bad that he had, somehow, ended up in Jill's bed on night three.

It was just so absurd, and the most unromantic ending she could have thought of for an epic love story like theirs. After years of trauma, of denying and of unrequited wanting, they just went and hooked up one night like they had it all planned, as though they had just been waiting for one of them to be broken enough to really need it. Claire had finally gotten the sister-in-law she had wished for, but the timing they had chosen was imperfect. Also, fucking Jill Valentine didn't save Chris from drowning in the immensity of guilt he felt. It was frightful how much he blamed himself for the death for all of his men, especially Piers Nivans.

So she hadn't told him.

"Because he would think he killed the father of my child."

Her hands slid lovingly over her belly at the same, slow pace the two shimmering tears had chosen to run down her cheeks. When she looked up again, she found Doctor May's look full of confusion and compassion. Claire shrugged.

"It's a long story," she whispered. "A sad one."

It took the woman another second to finally lift her weight from the chair. Eye-to-eye, she crossed her arms and let her lip twitch.

"You're right, Miss Redfield," she said, still with the warmth of a pack of frozen peas. "I was too quick to judge you. Please accept my apologies and…" She swallowed before a pair of grey irises turned to her in an almost shameful look. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Claire dropped back into the chair, letting her feet dangle. The outburst had cost a lot of energy, and the uncontrollable craving for anything sweet and jelly-like came back in gigantic waves.

"It's okay."

Doctor May placed a hand onto her shoulder and patted it awkwardly.

"May we proceed now? We'll do the ultrasound, too." She sat down again, ready to continue with the uncomfortable exam. "And I'll prescribe you folic acid and other vitamins to assure that you and your baby will be fine."

Claire found the change of attitude in the older woman downright suspicious, but she and her sensitivity appreciated it immensely. Not that it made her situation any less forlorn, but it helped to know that there wouldn't be more people around her turning into monsters for the time being.

"What the fuck, Claire? I told you to wait for me!"

Claire held the phone away from her head to avoid getting her eardrums blasted by Moira's shrill voice. The girl had been very clear about not letting her go alone to all the important appointments and, so far, the redhead had ignored her humble wish in both cases.

"I don't want to wait any longer, Moira," she spoke quietly and she fondled the key into the lock. "His family can come around any time. I'm sorry."

A sigh ran through the line.

"You shouldn't be doing this alone."

She was right, and Claire knew it. Just as the door clicked open and she suddenly stood in the middle of what had been Piers' home in New York, she felt how hard it would really be to collect her belongings from his place, and a part of her wished she'd listened to her dark-haired friend. Sorrow crawled into her throat and eyes in the shape of a thick knot and acid tears and for a moment she considered turning around and coming back with support.

But she couldn't wait. The ceremony for the soldiers the B.S.A.A. had lost in China would be held only a couple of days later, and she couldn't delay this any longer.

"I'll be fine. Thank you Moira," she whispered into the phone before ending the call and tucking the device away.

Everything still looked like the last time she had been there, in May, when she'd come to ventilate and clean the dust. It was funny, Claire thought, that it smelled like Piers, when he hadn't been there in over six months.

And he wouldn't come back.

Her eyes watered against her will. Every corner of the tiny space held the memory of Piers and it felt surreal to know that he wouldn't walk around them, that he wouldn't sit at the table nor sleep in his bed ever again. Everything about the place reminded her of him, the boy who had turned her life around, the man she loved so madly.

The father of her child.

A child she didn't know what to do about. They'd still have to wait for some test results, but Doctor May had confirmed that everything seemed fine so far. A normal pregnancy resulting in a healthy newborn, but the fact that her baby would have to grow up without a father frightened her. She herself had barely known her own parents after their terrible accident, and she was lucky that she'd had an older brother who had taken care of her ever since. Sure, Chris would help her wherever he could, but he had done enough for her already, and Claire believed that if he ever put any effort into the raising of a child again, it should be his own. Especially now that he and Jill were giving each other a chance.

Claire walked across the apartment, trying to analyze through the hazy glass the tears put into her eyes what objects she needed to take with her to avoid giving away that Piers hadn't really been living there alone. Her spare phone charger — how had she been living without it for half a year?— shirts, pants and underwear from the bedroom; a bottle opener, a frying pan and a couple of knives and cutting boards from the kitchen; a throw blanket and a pair of slippers from the living room; toothbrush and tampons from the bathroom. Oh, and the bottle of shampoo, the inflection point of their relationship.

Claire gasped for air as the tears began to flow wildly.

"I miss you," she winced into her palms as she pressed them onto her face. "I miss you so much."

She reached for the chair next to her and pulled it closer, propping her elbows onto the table to keep crying more comfortably. Grieving during a pregnancy was one big pain in the ass. Beyond the fact that she couldn't drown her sorrow in alcohol, she even had to force herself to eat healthily without appetite, often pickling her food with tears. Besides that, the pregnancy was going smoothly so far.

A knock on the door made her jump in shock and she momentarily toyed with the thought of hiding under the bed. She froze, though, busy weighing her options as getting caught, at least, wouldn't mean she'd have to sprint into the bedroom. At the second knock, Claire realized that it couldn't be Piers' family because his family would use their key to enter, well aware that their son wasn't going to open. So, she got up and tiptoed to the door, opening with a heavy heart after seeing who the visitor was.

"Beth," she whispered once their gazes met.

"Oh, Claire! Hello!" The older lady smiled widely. "Excuse me, I heard noises and believed Piers was back from Europe."

Poor lady. She had been so close to Piers that he'd considered her part of his family, and even so, nobody had come to notify her of his passing.

"Oh, Beth," she said, with tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

The lady had always proven to have an incredible vision, and now that she looked Claire in the eyes, she saw the tears standing in them immediately. Claire watched her pause and swallow.

"I see," she said, lowering her head to give in to a quiet sob. "Oh, Piers. How did it happen?"

Claire fidgeted. She felt sorry for the old woman, who had no family and to whom Piers had been like a son. She herself had often come to visit her during his absence, keeping her updated about his missions and achievements, but she hadn't found the time to tell her about China yet.

"A couple of weeks ago," she mumbled under her breath. "In China. I'm sure you heard about the trouble there." Her thumb pointed at the inside, she pushed the door wider open.

"You… want to come in?"

And the old lady nodded.

"Thanks."

Beth walked slowly into the apartment, her moves heavy with age and grief, and Claire took her time to close the door and lock it again.

"I would have come to tell you today," she said apologetically when she turned around and walked after the woman. "I was just quickly taking my stuff out before…"

Her lip began to shake and she couldn't keep speaking.

"Before his parents would come around." Beth nodded in understanding as she took a seat at the table. The news had visibly shaken her.

Claire sighed as she joined Beth.

"The ceremony…" she began saying. "It's just an impersonal B.S.A.A. event to honor the fallen soldiers… but it's the closest thing to a funeral he will get from them." She wiped away a tear.

Beth watched her attentively as she shrugged.

"It's on Wednesday afternoon," Claire said. "I can give you a ride. I'm sure he would love to know you'd be there. He appreciated you so much."

The old lady smiled shyly, trying hard to hold back the tears, to be strong for the other woman.

"I know how hard this is for you, Claire," she said, reaching for the redhead's wrist to hold it. "You two were so in love. It was obvious how much you meant to each other. I was expecting you two to get married and have children someday."

Those words seemed to trigger another wave of emotion. Claire rolled her lower lip between her teeth and bit it softly, as a sob made its way out.

"About that," she whispered, hesitant if she should give away her secret as her free hand wandered down to her belly.

But Beth was a wise woman, and the gesture had told her more than the P-word ever could. It didn't only say that there was a new life growing inside of her, but that the mourning was making things difficult for the mom-to-be, a term Claire wasn't getting used to yet.

"Oh, Claire," the older woman forced a smile, obviously moved by the tragedy behind such a happy event. "That's…"

Claire huffed out a laugh. It was awful. It was dramatic. It was…

"Bad timing," she responded with a sigh. "The worst of all timings."

Beth squeezed her wrist a little tighter, a gesture Claire resisted at first, unable to look the woman in the eyes before she hadn't pushed the tears back.

"Claire," Beth said in a warm voice. "Are you religious?"

The redhead swallowed. Faith was a word that had lost its meaning to many of them, after all the evil they were forced to bear witness to throughout the years. Once you killed a zombie with a crucifix on a church alter and neither the damn thing nor yourself were struck by a heavenly lightning bolt instantly, it was nearly impossible to not lose faith in a superhuman force watching over you.

She shook her head.

"I used to be. But it's hard to believe that all the things I have seen are actually some merciful god's will."

Beth nodded.

"Piers used to say the same," she said and smirked as her bony thumb flicker over Claire's wrist. "I'm not here to judge or convert you, Claire, but I want you to remember that faith gives hope to the people."

Not wanting to offend the old lady, Claire forced a smile and let her keep talking.

"My husband was killed in a bank robbery," she said with a sad shrug and had all of Claire's attention immediately. Piers had always told her how hermetic the old lady was when it came to speaking of her husband, and she knew that this was a very special moment she was allowed to share.

"One morning he went to check the numbers," she said. "And he didn't come back. We didn't have time to say goodbye."

The tip of a dry tongue tried to moisten Claire's shaking lips. That moment, she felt particularly close to the older woman.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Beth."

The neighbor laughed sadly.

"It was a hard time for me," she explained as her hand rose to start toying with the golden cross she wore as a charm on her necklace. "But my family and my faith helped me get through it. And I know that my dear Arnold has been with me every single day, watching over me and helping me whenever I needed it. I talk to him every day. I tell him where I went, what I did, who I met, although he knows all of that, of course. He'll be sad to hear about Piers."

Claire blinked. No, she wasn't a religious person anymore, but she had been speaking to Piers's ghost as though he had been there with her just like Beth spoke to her late husband. The old lady smirked at her.

"I know that Piers will be with you, too." A nod reaffirmed her statement, and for the first time in days, Claire seemed to feel somehow understood.

"Yes, I think he will."

The one thing about funerals that always amazed her was the silence. No matter if it was two, two dozens or two hundred people, once they put their feet onto the graveyard, it was like someone had pushed the mute button on the remote, and voices, cries and screams were silenced. Claire hadn't known that the B.S.A.A.s private graveyard could fit such an immense crowd, and she was surprised to see that most of the eight —her eyes waved across the silent mass— maybe nine hundred attendees had even found a seat on one of the white chairs on the green meadow.

"So, that big man is your brother?" Beth asked and pointed at the speaker desk, where Chris was standing, flicking through the paper sheets that held his thoughts on his men and all the happenings. Claire knew the question didn't really ask for an answer. "So, I finally know the face of that brave Captain. Piers always spoke so well of him." Beth was tightly holding onto Claire's elbow as they walked across the grass to the second row of chairs, where Moira was keeping a seat for the older lady. The young woman jumped up from her chair to greet.

"Beth," Claire turned to the older woman and squeezed her hand. "This is my friend Moira. She knew Piers well, too, and you will sit with her family, if you don't mind. I need to be with my brother."

Beth nodded in understanding and turned to Moira, pinching her cheek tenderly.

"Such a beautiful girl."

Moira laughed slightly and offered her elbow for Beth to hook her arm into it. Before the two generations could walk away, Claire found her brother walking into the crowd with grief covering his demeanor, straight towards a couple in their late fifties. The woman was well-dressed in a black suit, with short brown hair crowning her high head, and her attitude matched the one of the man by her side perfectly. The uniform gave away what kind of status they belonged to, but it wasn't until Claire saw the cane that supported the man's pace that she realized their name.

"That's Piers' family," she whispered as an intense longing spread in her chest. Piers' mother and father, the woman who had denied his military career and the man who had nearly kicked him out of the family for leaving the US Army, the people she had heard so many stories about that it felt like she had known them personally. There they stood, in front of her brother, and she could sense the awkwardness even from where she was. A thin young woman in a dark blue dress was following them, her short brown hair brushing her shoulders when she shook her head at Chris. Moira's tiny hand crawled up Claire's arm and rested on her shoulder.

"Who's that?"

Claire had a feeling she knew who the girl was. The way her brother seemed to treat her gave away that it wasn't the first time they met, which could only mean one thing.

"Oh, it's just Amy," Beth commented in a despising tone that clearly imitated Moira's way of speaking, up to the point that they seemed to be the same person in different stages of their life. "The skinny girl Piers was dating before meeting Claire."

Claire couldn't stop staring at the skinny girl, the beautiful brunette, sister of his childhood friend, who had been his girlfriend for four years, who had created social profiles for him and who had never answered his marriage proposal. She was now standing next to his parents, with a heartbroken demeanor and her thin arm slung around his mother's shoulder.

"That's the evil slut who just stopped replying to his messages?"

Claire sucked in some air, the blunt comment leaving her completely speechless.

"Moira!" She pleaded in an exhorting way as her head spun around, hoping that nobody had heard the insult. Beth, next to Moira, was snickering as her arm curled tighter around the young woman's.

They would become good friends. Birds of a feather…

Her eyes waved to Chris, who was giving Piers' father one last handshake before the man limped away, and their gazes met. Her brother's smile had never been so drunk in sorrow, not even when Jill had been lost, and Claire felt the need to embrace him, hold him and tell him that everything would be alright, that it wasn't his fault, and that all of Alpha Team, including Piers, had died proudly for the sake of their mission. Chris' lip twitched and Claire winced a little, winking at him and gesturing to the first row of seats. The ceremony was about to begin.

"You should be sitting there with them," Moira hissed, her outraged look still set on the crippled Nivans family and the skinny girl by their side. "You are the one wanting to commit to him and you are the one he loved."

She was. She knew, and she would never doubt that, but it was good to know that Amy was with Piers' parents in her stead and that they weren't going alone through all the pain. Claire was thankful for the girl's presence, as she herself wouldn't be able to comfort them.

Her spot was next to her brother, and it was the only place she wanted to be.

Jill had helped Chris with his speech, Claire had no doubt. Not that her brother wasn't capable of writing his own discourse, but it contained too many words like pride and duty and honor and way too little apologies to come from the hand of the destroyed Captain Redfield. Even so, the speech had been precious; professional but emotional, objective but close; and it had been praised by all the attendees. Chris had made a pause before reading the name of every fallen member to honor them and thank them for their sacrifice, but the silence before Piers' name had been longer. Longer, louder and more harrowing. At some point, Claire had believed she would burst into tears and all the efforts of the last months and weeks would have been to no avail. Luckily, a little girl of two or three in the third row had begun to cry loudly for her mother, making a high-pitched shriek that had cut the silence and tension immediately. It had been a lucky coincidence, Claire thought thankfully, still reluctant to believe that it was some higher force who wanted her to stay.

It was a beautiful ceremony, though, and Claire knew Piers would have liked it, too. Someone had exaggerated the floral ornaments, but the color had been chosen wisely and the music was exquisite. Once the ceremony had concluded, Chris was already surrounded by people, family members of the teams, other soldiers and B.S.A.A. workers. Simon Tinman had come, too, the depression survival brought along lingering like a dark shadow on his features. He, too, was holding the hand of his fiancée so tightly that it seemed he'd crush Melanie's thin fingers if he pressed any harder, just like Chris was squeezing Jill's hand every time she let him catch it. Their relationship wasn't something the two B.S.A.A. founding members wanted to make too public, but what novelty could entwined fingers possibly be when their nonexistent relationship had always been evident to the world?

The attendees followed Captain Redfield and Agent Valentine closely as they pushed them away from the graveyard. Claire had barely time to wave at her brother as a sign that she'd wait until the crowd dispersed and follow them later, unsure if he saw it before he was already engaged in another effusive conversation full of praises, tears and gratitude. Claire watched them move away before finally releasing the sigh she felt she had been holding all afternoon long. When she turned, she found Moira standing behind her, a warm look marring her round face.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked lowly, her lashes battering into the sudden wind that blew around them.

Moira was a good friend, Claire thought, and she was thankful for having the Burton family by her side, but despite all the support and company, there was one thing the girl could really do for her. Claire dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out the keys of her car.

"Take Beth home, please, I'll take a cab later," she said with a thankful nod when Moira took the keys. "I need a moment alone, I think."

The girl pouted, brow furrowed and blowing out a hiss, but after reminding Claire that she shouldn't be alone, she patted her shoulder and walked away, helping Beth walk over the grass to Claire's car. She also instructed the rest of the Burtons to give her a minute. Once everyone was out of reach, Claire turned to the huge stone wall they had built up on the private B.S.A.A. graveyard to honor the members who had fallen in the most recent outbreak in China, each of them remembered with a picture of them in uniform and their name and position carved into the stone and highlighted in gold. Claire blinked at the face of Piers on the stone wall, a picture that had been taken a couple of years in the past, it seemed, and she was sad to realize that she didn't have a photograph of him.

They had been such a weird couple all along, but what was really not weird in their life?

She closed her eyes and inhaled, focusing on the fresh breeze around her and visualizing how the cold would push the burning tears away. Lost in her thoughts and senses, she shook a little when she felt the warm touch of a hand on her shoulder.

He was such a coward.

"You idiot," she whispered, the identity of the stalker long revealed by the smell of leather and Scotch. "Faking your own death? Pointing a gun at my brother?"

She turned her head and looked into the blue eyes of the man who had always, somehow, been there whenever she was lost.

"And not one phone call or message after Sherry went missing," she hissed and shook her head, close to tears again.

Leon shrugged.

"I would have said something like I told you, and I don't think you'd have liked that."

His eyes jumped briefly to the stone wall behind them and he stepped forward. Claire sobbed quietly, swallowing down the burning knot in her throat as Leon's hand on her shoulder turned her to face him.

"He was a good man," she cried, judging eyes turned to the blonde in front of her. "He was better than all of you."

"I know," Leon whispered, and pulled her into his embrace. She let him. She didn't know why, because he didn't deserve it, but she let him hug her, and she willingly nuzzled the collar of his jacket. "I'm so sorry, Claire."

Leon had always had the power to make things a little easier for her with his mere presence, whether it was the night in Raccoon City and those that came afterwards, or the times when she felt the smallest, like in Harvardville. And yes, even if it didn't make it particularly better, it was comforting to know there was someone who was suffering as much as she herself, — or more.

Maybe it had been the basis of their friendship all along.

Leon's fingertips brushed her temple as he rested his chin on her head.

"How about pizza and shots?" He said and slowly loosened his grip around her. "I think pizza and shots is what we need now."

He was about to turn away and pull her after him by the hand. He stopped, though, when Claire didn't move. She watched the confusion surface on his face when she shook her head at him.

"I can't drink," she whispered and put a frown onto his face.

"You can't drink," he repeated after her, still confused by the words. When the information and all possible consequences sank in, he rolled his eyes and sighed. "I see."

She launched him a shy glance, shrugging apologetically like a teenager who had been caught smoking, at which Leon reacted with a soft smirk, before giving her hand another pull.

"Okay, that means more shots for me."

Final A/N

So, that was the last chapter of Secrets (and other misunderstandings). I'm kind of sorry that it couldn't have a happier ending for our dear Claire, but she's not going alone through all of this.
Now, there are many unresponded questions, right? Will she go on with the pregnancy? Will Chris ever know? Will there be another chance for Cleon? Will Moira allow that? And, if so, how will Leon compete with the ghost of the perfection of a boyfriend that was Piers Nivans?

Now, my dearest readers, let me tell you that this story was always meant to have a sequel. It's, unfortunately, not written yet, but I have big plans for it. It's probably going to be another load of angst and shit, but you know me, I'm a slut for excessively romantic stories. So, expect, some time in the upcoming months, to find Walk you through published here.

Now, my final words to all of you:

Thank you all for following this crazy little fic of mine. Thanks for reading, for all the follows, favs and reviews.

Special thanks to manu and my dearest Guest reviewer1, whose reviews I couldn't reply to in a PM.

Manu: Últimamente los planes de Capcom me dan un poco de escalofríos. Village pinta bien, aunque me importe bien poco lo que le pase a Ethan jajaja Yo solo quiero ver a Chris. Y han salido muchas más novedades. Ya veremos qué tal se verá Infinite Darkness, el reboot de las pelis y… -suspira- la serie esta extraña de Netflix jajaja Cuídate mucho. Espero que estés sano.

GuestReviewer1: you're not wrong. I did cry a bit when I killed him off, although the scenes, once written, lose all emotion to me. Sadly. I'm happy to hear that you're looking forward to more. As I said, it'll take me some time… I have to finish A third Chance first :P I hope you are doing well. Thank you so much for joining me on this journey :D

Thank you very much! Stay safe and healthy!