-Meant to Live-

Sterling, Colorado

A downward spiral was what she expected. She figured major tribulations ahead. Alex Wesker was still out there and so was his C-Virus and commitment to other troubling crimes. The perpetrator of her brother's torment free and unpunished, somewhere potentially plotting evil. What she observed was a detached and eerily calm man.

They brought him to the house like Eva wanted. But it was avoidance for the young woman it would seem. She left very shortly after arriving, wanting to be with her children for a few days. Barry drove her since the broken hand proved a hindrance to the task. Claire wondered if Chris's new proclivity to shadow Wesker around the house had anything to do with the abrupt departure.

Wesker didn't deter the habitual need Chris seemed to have adopted to be near him. Claire chose not to say or do a thing to block it because his company brought her brother comfort. She preferred other companions, but she wouldn't choose for him. Some people hadn't approved of her friendship with Sherry over the age gap, even though she was the only person the child had to make her smile. Her friendship with Moira Burton received a bit of the same reaction to a lesser degree, once they began working together.

There were people who could find a reason to be unhappy about anything.

"Claire, Renny's cooking tonight. Pasta okay?"

She looked up from spying on Chris sitting in a chair supposedly watching television, lowering the magazine serving as cover. "Renny can cook?"

Leon closed the freezer and opened the fridge. "Apparently."

"Fine."

"It's fine, guys. Later." Leon hung up the phone and tossed it on the counter. "Want something to drink?"

"Nah," she replied distractedly.

How much time until his eye healed? He wore the white medical patch over the injured eye yet. One night and half a day had gone by so far. Depending on wound severity, it took a few hours to a day at most. That was how she thought his R-Virus worked. She'd ask, but she was chicken. Everybody was walking on glass around Chris, acting "normal" to help him feel normal. What a joke.

Well, everybody save for Wesker. The man strolled into the room with hair wet from the shower. He stood behind Chris's chair and tapped him on the shoulder to announce his presence. Chris twisted around and looked at him.

"Your eye. Is it healed?"

He shrugged, prompting the older man to reach to lift the patch. Her brother stilled and let him. His eye was perfect. Wesker removed the unnecessary patch and disposed of it in the trash bin. Claire had to think he didn't check whether the eye was okay or didn't think about it. Thinking further, she wondered if it was possible he didn't think he deserved to heal. He wasn't showing any self-care. No showering or shaving. He wore a scrounged up forest green t-shirt and black sweatpants Eva happened to have kept by accident, shoved in the back of her bedroom closet.

When Claire found the clothes, she asked if he'd like her to buy him more. He told her not to waste her time and walked out to dress. She trailed him once he left the bedroom, gathering numerous weapons and the mercenary gear. It was stored beneath the bed as she was uncertain where else to put them. The outfit was no doubt a bad reminder.

Jill walked through the front door carrying groceries. Rebecca was with her, carrying a grocery bag and a gallon of milk. She entered the kitchen to help the women unload and store the items. Leon passed her by with a bottle of alcohol and glasses. She thought maybe whiskey.

"It's pretty cold today," Jill remarked, blowing into her palms before rubbing them together.

"Here, Chris," Leon offered. "You gotta need this."

She saw him fill three glasses on the wood varnished table, handing the fullest to Chris. He accepted it, studied the contents like a foreign substance, and drained the glass. A smile stretched his lips.

"I remember this."

Claire couldn't restrain her smile in response. He was honestly smiling. Alcohol wasn't the greatest cause of a smile she could hope for, but it was real. Leon refilled the glass when presented to him for more. Carefully, he clinked his glass with Chris's, grinning.

"Cheers."

He waited this time, looking toward Wesker. In turn, Wesker took the remaining drink and stared at Chris, who leaned back in his chair. She observed the interaction, speculating on why he seemed to be forcing himself to look the man in the mutated eyes. If she saw that other Wesker, she'd tear his goddamn eyes out.

Leaving the boys to their drinks, she remembered the groceries. Rebecca and Jill had it pretty much taken care of already. She couldn't spy on Chris constantly and she knew it. It caught her attention Jill unloaded several bottles of alcohol to store with the multiple bottles Eva had. She met Claire's stare.

"I want to hold a party for Chris's return," she explained, which explained the bags of chips. "There's beer in the trunk if you wanna grab it."

"I got it!" Rebecca announced, hustling out the open door.

Claire grabbed the milk jug instead, opening the fridge to put it away. She eyed the plate she put together for Chris's lunch. He hadn't touched it. He never ate breakfast since they were kids, and he only ate at the hospital because they wouldn't release him if he couldn't. She attempted calculating when was the last time he ate.

Her gaze went to Wesker now relaxing on the larger couch. That's right. He made Chris eat when they got to the house yesterday, frying up eggs and bacon and pouring the last of Eva's orange juice. It was weird how he listened to him. They didn't even like each other. What was the deal between them? Had Wesker become relatable after his experiences of late? Was she actually jealous?

Done with disturbing herself, she shut the fridge and sat at the counter. "Jill..."

"Yes, Claire?" the woman inquired, smirking at her tone.

"Does it bother you being anywhere near..well, you know."

"Yup," she immediately replied. "And no. There are a lot of shitty people. I just decide who's worth my stress."

"Does that work?"

She laughed. "Sometimes."

Rebecca came in hoisting two twenty-four packs of beer, arms trembling. Claire hopped off the seat and wrapped her arms around the top pack, pulling it off the pile. She nearly dropped the remaining pack but made it to the table. Exhaling, she managed a cheerful smile.

"I can't wait for this party. It'll be so nice seeing everyone having a nice time."

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" She placed the pack next to the other one. "I mean... Yeah, it should be fine."

"It will be fine. Promise," Rebecca assured. "It won't be until Eva gives the say so. Still time to cancel if we need to."

"Right."

Jill went to the sink and filled a plastic cup with water. There were pictures of teddy bears and balloons on it. Good thing Chris didn't bother with the kitchen. They settled on not revealing the existence of two kids for now. He had plenty to worry about as is.

Claire's thoughts turned to her brother again. He was mostly silent before he tried to end the world. He kept to himself and it would seem his PTSD reached a level prime to explode. Now he was more "Chris" than she'd yet seen. Trouble was, Chris experienced hell many times over in the past as a soldier, a fighter. He had nightmares they all heard the previous night. Screaming awake twice caused sleep to elude her the majority of the night. Nobody mentioned the raccoon eyes she was sporting, which was highly agreeable.

"Do you know where Alex is?"

She looked pointedly. "Are you serious?"

The empty cup was put on the counter. "I'm not hiding anymore. I want to find this guy and teach him what happens when he messes with the wrong people."

Rebecca sat at the counter, folding her arms on it. "We don't know. Agent Harper said she'll keep us updated."

"Can she be trusted?" asked Jill.

"I think so."

She winced, recognizing she'd been moving around too much. Rebecca noticed but kept her mouth sealed when she sat at the kitchen table to quit shifting bones. Placing a hand on her hurting ribs, she took practiced breaths. Injuries sucked.

"I'll see what Barry can find out," Jill said, contemplating in an eager manner. "I'm not stopping until the bastard is finished."

"Wesker's a knowledgeable fellow," Rebecca admitted. "If there's something to know, he'll discover it."

Chris would fight, there wasn't a debate in that. Whether allowing it was wise or not, she couldn't say. But she knew what it was like to feel devoted to a particular outcome. If anybody had a right to end that bastard creating so much chaos and who stole a life away for years, it would be him. Jill was looking to get in on the action too, get some payback.

Leon made her take a nap a few minutes into a conversation revolving around motorcycles and electric cars. She woke to Chris sitting on the edge of the mattress. He was holding her hand, resting his forehead in the other. At first she thought he might be asleep, but when she stirred, he abandoned the position to smile at her.

"Do you remember after Mom and Dad died, whenever you got sick?"

Drowsily, she smiled at the memory. "You would sit by my bed, rubbing my hand to sooth me to sleep. All night if you had to."

Feeling more awake, she rubbed her eyes and looked at him properly. "You'd make a good dad."

He looked away to the far wall. "After escaping Raccoon, how long did it take you to decide you could be normal again?"

"I bounced back okay, didn't I?"

Chris interlaced their fingers a brief moment. He realized what he was doing and let go, laying his hands in his lap. She sat upright, noticing the weapon there. A .45 handgun.

"Chris, where'd you get the gun?"

"Key was in the pillowcase that smells like shampoo. Unlocked the bedside drawer. This was inside."

"What are you doing with it?"

"Nothing," he sighed in frustration. "I never do anything."

Frowning, she sat up straighter. "What are you talking about, Chris?"

"You did, you know."

"Huh?"

"Bounce back okay. You're great."

"Uh, thanks."

His expression flattened. "We can't go back."

He kissed her on the back of the hand and rose, walking out of the room. Claire fumbled to crawl out from the covers, following. Chris went straight to where the alcohol was stored in the kitchen. Twisting the top off, he drank from the bottle. Wonderful to see.

"Chris, what the fuck?"

"Ah..leave me alone, Claire."

"Booze and a gun, could you be more cliché?"

"Don't talk to me, Wesker," he growled, staring determinedly at the floor.

"Claire, need a minute."

Her fiance had terrible timing. Leon was waving her toward the front door from the hallway and she went. She was due for her pain medication and did she smell noodles? Claire saw a pot of them boiling on the stove. Renny popped out of the bathroom faster and louder than necessary, giving her a near heart attack.

"Shit..."

"What? Gotta shit, missy? Need the can?"

Humorless, she deadpanned, "You're gonna overcook the noodles, mister."

"Oh crap!"

He hurried past and she got to Leon. "You're getting outta here?"

"They want me to give a report on what's happened so they can get the wheels moving on the Archer hunt."

"That's good." She glanced around rather pointlessly but to make a point of showing she was looking. "Are Rebecca and Jill still here?"

"They're in the car. They're coming with me. Want to be involved and first to know."

She'd like to be involved, however, her involvement in this would mostly be on the sidelines with her injuries. The three of them would miss dinner but Sherry, Jake, and presumably Billy would come. They didn't know where Krauser was staying. He made himself scarce immediately after the incident in Kansas. Wesker probably knew what was going on with him but Claire didn't care enough to ask.

"Let us know if you guys learn anything new, okay?"

"Roger." He kissed her on the lips and squeezed her arm, leaving out the door.

"Whoa! Whoa!"

She closed the door and spun, narrowing her eyes to see what was happening. Renny was panicking and waving his hands in the air. Wesker stalked forth, through the dining room and heading for the living room. He looked in the middle of a fight. They sure as hell weren't going to trash Eva's home.

"Don't hurt the food, dammit!"

The gun had been thrown, smashing against a cabinet above the counter. Wesker turned to check if damage was done and her stupid brother plowed into his mid-section. Distracted as he was, the body weight despite Chris's lighter and thinner musculature, proved enough to knock him flat. Hands squeezed his throat.

"Chris!"

Ordinarily she wouldn't mind watching Wesker take a few hits. Hmph. Couldn't they take this outside?

"To be fair," reasoned Renny. "Wesker goaded him into throwing the first punch."

A blow to the ribs drove Chris off and they rolled into the table, bumping and sliding it across the floor. Chris tried to punch him in the face and Wesker retaliated with a knee to push him higher, then a kick which sent him tumbling into the living room. Chris rolled to his feet, glaring angrily, positioning to resume combat.

Exasperated, she dared venture closer, aware she could wind up collateral damage. "Why can't you just stop it!?"

Chris shook his head, baffled. He actually heard her. Wesker relaxed his stance, adjusting the sunglasses on his nose, a satisfied smirk growing.

"See now, was that so hard? You just showed me you want to survive. No more nonsense withdrawing and refusing meals, cleaning, and shaving." Wesker pushed him through the bathroom door. "In the shower, loser."

Chris was too shocked and dare she say it, overjoyed, to resist heeding him. Claire altered her position to watch him listening, picking up a towel and turning on the water. Humming, the other man announced he would buy new clothes for him to wear afterward. She didn't think she ever saw Wesker appear almost cheery.

Nothing like a little violence to make the boys happy. The idiots were perfect for each other. She decided to ignore them and hang by Renny after taking her pills. When Chris eventually emerged from the bathroom freshly washed and shaved, she beamed, pleased. He'd put his old clothes back on.

Wesker arrived about fifteen minutes later and manhandled him into the bedroom, tossing the clothes after him. She looked at the microwave for the time. The doorbell rang and she jumped. That'd be their motel guests.

Ordering Wesker to set the table, she answered the door. The three she expected were present. Billy helped Jake enter the house on his wheels, Sherry handing over a bag with bottles of rum and soda inside. Claire fought not to make a face. She didn't like how her brother leaned on such drink as a crutch. But they all had their vices, confessed or not.

Dinner wasn't miserable. Now that Chris realized he wasn't trapped in grief and trauma, it was more comfortable to be with him. He wasn't going to be the life of the party anytime soon, hell, he never had been that kind of guy. Jake and Renny did enough talking for everyone though, and Jake insisted declaring several times in a row he did not blame Chris for the temporary wheelchair circumstance.

"These noodles are delicious!" Sherry said through a mouthful.

"You can cook, Renny," Billy complimented in turn. "I never thought you'd really get around to learning."

Renny stared at his water glass a moment before replying, "Yeah, well, I realized you never know how much time you might have."

It was good of him not to look directly at Chris there. Claire ascertained for the third time the man was indeed eating, annoyed they all of them defaulted to repetition to make themselves feel better. Eva said something from her car window when they stopped for gas on the trip back that she wouldn't soon forget.

"We got him back, but it's like he didn't come back."

She'd surely be having bad dreams for a while too.

"Can you live with what happened?" Claire sighed at Wesker bringing the mood down, reminding of Chris's less than stellar behavior earlier. "You can run and hide if you want. It fixes nothing."

Chris released the fork and topped off his glass of whiskey, grasping it in one hand. "You can't outrun your past."

Renny chuckled good-naturedly, digging into his plate of pasta. "Sure you can."