"I ran out. I left. He needs to chill. I need to give him time to chill."

Ok, take a deep breath, it's a long one, get yourself a cuppa and a biscuit and buckle in!

Rain tapped lightly at the kitchen window as I waited for the percolator; it hissed and fizzled and gurgled behind me as it came to life. I could see the two little birds huddled under the roof in the box I had set out for them. I had been watching them bring twigs and leaves back to the box over the last few days, and it made me so happy and humbled to know that they had chosen my little box to start building a nest in. I wasn't entirely aware that they were male and female up until recently when, well, the birds and the bees, as they say…*cough* right on that balcony table...

I wasn't working today, and I offered to get up early to make Chris's coffee and breakfast while he was downstairs in the gym. To be truthful, I wanted him out of the way. I had assured him I could still do remedial things around the apartment even with two busted fingers. That included making all of his coffees for him.

Slowly and gradually I had been omitting the whiskey from his coffee and thus far he hadn't seemed to notice, though with his increase in alcohol any other time of the day, I doubt my efforts were worth it. I don't think he realised just how much he was drinking.

Chris has been home for a week and a bit, and he's emptied AT LEAST seven bottles of whiskey, six bottles of vodka and a few bottles of beer into his gut. Some of those I was only aware of because I found the empty bottles in the recycling box. So not counting the beer that's thirteen bottles in ten days. That's too much. For him to go from nothing for two weeks while away to that in less time he was actually in Kijuju it's...it's hard to watch. Twice I've had to drag him to bed and clean up after he threw up down himself.

Surely he knows he's doing it? How can he not know how much he's drinking? I stupidly questioned him last night about it, and he...he slapped me. He told me it wasn't my business and he fucking slapped me. Chris, my brother, has never EVER hit me. Not even during my rebellious teen years when I was caught shoplifting, or drinking and smoking weed behind my high school gymnasium, not even when I hit HIM when I was fifteen.

Oh God that tirade of attacks I threw at him that day, and he STILL didn't raise his hand. Hell, he didn't even raise his voice. He coolly and calmly restrained me, pushed me off to the hallway closet in the apartment we had at the time and locked me in there. He chose the pitch black closet over my room because he knew there was nothing I could use to hurt myself in there. He left me in there, I don't know how long for, to scream and cry it out. I called him every name under the sun, I told him I hated him, I told him he was the worst brother in the world, I told him I wish he died with mom and dad in that car crash. I slammed my fists against the door, the walls, the jackets that were hanging up, I screamed and shouted and cried until I lost my voice, and eventually I burnt myself out. It was only after I had passed out from exhaustion that Chris had carried me to my room and laid me on my bed.

The following morning he had gone to work at the RPD for the early shift, but he had made my lunch and left it on the kitchen counter for me. While in the school cafeteria I found a little note he had left with my sandwich, simply telling me he left a larger note in an envelope on the phone stand. I read it as soon as I got home from school;

Claire,

You're better than this. You know you're better than this and I know you're better than this. I don't want to be hearing about how you were caught taking drugs or being caught by the police, certainly not through my own colleagues.

I am trying my best for you, I know things are tough for you, but please remember it's just as tough for me too. One day I'll tell you just how much I had to go through after mom and dad passed away. I know you won't like for me to say this but I've been through so much more than you have. It's not easy taking on a pre-treen girl fresh from losing her parents. Three years on and it hasn't gotten any easier. I wish it had. I'm asking you to not make this any harder than things already have been for me.

Please don't make me regret keeping you out of an orphanage.

I love you so much, Claire. You're all I have left, and I don't want us to fall apart anymore. I'm doing my best, and I'm sorry if you don't think it's good enough.

Chris

I wasn't aware that he was home when I read it, and I cried into his handwriting, angry at what I had become. A spoiled, self-entitled little brat. I wasn't aware that he watched me read it, and that he watched me cry. He left me to cry for several minutes before his arms around my torso startled me.

That is the Chris I knew and loved. The Chris I grew up with. I didn't grow up with or love a Chris that drank heavily and lashed out when questioned. Maybe it was all pent up. Maybe he had wanted to hit me, after all those years. I decided that I would let it slide. Maybe I was just getting comeuppance fifteen years after the fact.

I heard Chris enter the apartment, and I began making the coffee. I studied his movements; he couldn't have lifted with how he's moving, could he? He was shuffling like a zombie with a hangover! Perhaps he had used the sauna or something. I quickly made his own coffee while his attention was elsewhere, I didn't want him to notice that I hadn't made it with whiskey. I held my own coffee in the pit of my elbow while holding Chris' in my good hand, and I passed it to him as he slumped on the sofa.

"Thank, sis". He said, though I think he mentally retracted his thanks as soon as he took a sip. He glared at me as I sat as far as I could from him. "Where's the whiskey?"

"You've drunk it all." I lied, sipping my own drink. He responded by slamming his cup down on the table, the coffee sloshing over either side. He shook his hand in the air as the hot liquid landed on his fingers and he sucked his teeth, cursing.

"There's another bottle in the kitchen, so answer me again, Claire! Where's the whiskey?" Chris seethed, his eyes burning into mine.

"Do you know how much you've drank since you've come back from Kijuju, Chris?" I asked calmly. He might be getting worked up, but I wasn't going to add to it. Not yet, anyway. I saw him flinch. What? Just saying Kijuju made him flinch? He quickly composed himself.

"It's none of your business how much I drink!" Chris began to raise his voice. Ok. No more nice little sister. I stood up, and I could see that it surprised him.

"It is my business, Chris! You're my brother!" I raised my voice more, and Chris only huffed and threw his arms up at me.

"Oh fuck off, Claire! I'm drinking no more than I normally would!"

"Are you so fucking blind?! Your normal was too much anyway, but now?! Even before your last mission you drank more than I was comfortable with!" I shouted at him, and it again surprised him.

Chris quickly stood up and postured in front of me, attempting to intimidate me but I didn't back down. If my Redfield genes had taught me anything it was that we were both too stubborn. Far too stubborn to let the other win easily. Not anymore. He pointed his finger at my face.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do. Don't fucking give me that shit that you're not comfortable with it. Fucking deal with it, Claire, or get out." Chris gritted through his teeth. His words froze my thinking; whatever response I had was gone, lost into the swirling vortex storm of our argument. He had never told me to get out. I straightened up and sucked in a breath. Fuck it. He had won this one.

"Fine," I snapped. I stormed to my room, grabbing handfuls of clothes and stuffing them into my rucksack with my good hand. I slung it over my shoulder and snatched up my laptop bag before making a point of bursting out of my room and down the hallway. I swiped my keys from the phone stand and opened the front door.

"Fine!" I shouted once more, and I slammed it. I threw myself into the open elevator and gulped a sob back down. I slapped the buttons until the 1st Floor light came on, and I frantically pulled my phone out from my jeans pocket. I sent a text to Moira Burton.

~ Hey, Moira, sorry it's early. I don't suppose you know somewhere where I can crash for a few days? Chris has kicked off again :'( ~

I got out at the lobby, my chest hurting and searing from fighting back the tears and anger, and I rushed out of the building, almost knocking over the mailman. I muttered my apologies and carried on down the street, the rain now having stopped. Good, because I didn't bring my jacket. My phone buzzed in my hand.

~ wtf. whats he done now, Claire-bear? stupid fucking dinosaur! why is he being like this all of a sudden? argh, men! but yh, no worries, u can crash at my place if u want, we can eat chocolate n talk shit about him ;) ~

I had previously spoken to both Moira and her dad Barry Burton, Barry being an old friend of Chris' from back in his cop days. They were both aware of Chris' increased uptake of alcohol and his behaviour towards me, though I hadn't yet told them that he had hit me. I also hadn't told them about my own dirty behaviour behind Chris' back. I began typing another text to Moira, but she had sent another message.

~ tho i had to go out to cover someone on the morning shift, sorry, pain in the ass i know, shelf stocking is shit! but as soon as im done ill give u a shout, dont do anything dumb XD luv ya 3 ~

~ That's fine, Moira, shall I meet you somewhere? ~

~ how about the park cafe? its a nice day, maybe pick up a few rays too, get that vitamin d into our sexy bodies ready to show them off in summer XD ~

I smiled. She may have her own problems with her own life, but hell she knew how to cheer people up.

~ Park cafe it is, then! I think I'm gonna start making notes on Chris, maybe if he sees it he'll realise what he's doing ~

~ god we can only hope, Claire-bear, i know what he means to you, hopefully he'll sort his shit out! gtg babe breaks over, peace out 3 ~

The leaves whispered and sighed in the wind as I walked along the park path, the gravel snaking between the trees. Daffodils bloomed in delicately planted flower beds, and little honeybees and insects hovered over them. The sun, though still low in the sky, peeked and pushed through any little gap in the trees it could find. I rounded a bend in the gravel track, and the park cafe came into view, the little old lady who ran it was already serving customers with coffee and cake.

For saying how nice of a morning it was after the light rain there was only one other group of people at the park cafe; a small group of five people sat at a table under the shade of a tree. It was weird to hear all kinds of different accents from them, one in particular had an atypical British accent unlike anything I've heard before, a few more of them had seemingly European accents of different flavours, but I've never been great at deciphering accents, they could've been from a different continent altogether for all I knew. Why they chose to visit my city of all cities baffled me.

They talked and laughed and joked to each other, all the while speaking excellent English. One of them adjusted her straw hat, and kneed the table in the process, knocking their pens off their little notepads and to the ground. She cursed...I think? Oh yes, that was Italian. Definitely Italian.

Speaking of...I pulled my own notepad out and began writing down my thoughts. I don't even know how long I had sat there staring off at the trees and the cherry blossoms in their full gorgeous pink bloom.

I wrote how Chris has rapidly changed over the last week and a bit, how much alcohol he had consumed, his mannerisms, his behaviour, his...actions toward me. Given I was only holding my pen with two fingers my handwriting was still legible; my other fingers won't be better for a while yet.

I wrote about how I don't recognise him as the brother I knew and loved all that much anymore…

A flap of wings to my left caught my attention, and a little bird cocked its head at me. Wait...was this the same bird from my apartment? I watched it wearily; I hadn't noticed tears forming as I wrote, and the little bird eyed me as I furiously wiped my eyes. It fluttered to the table surface, its beady eyes still staring at me. I held my finger out and it hopped on without a second thought.

I glanced back down at my notebook, and somehow, as my mind had wandered, I had written down seemingly my own feelings and actions next to the notes about Chris. About how I couldn't remove him from my mind, about how I lusted for him. Did I really write that? How much did I space out? Disgusted, I went to tear out the page, but the bird hopped down to the book and pecked at my finger. I brushed the bird away gently and tried to tear it out again, but the bird only pecked me harder. I sighed, and read my notes once more.

Chris had an alcohol problem and I had a fucked up sexual fascination over him. What a fucking pair we are. Who's the real bad guy here? I was no angel when it came to drinking, I had proven that. At least Chris wasn't jerking off while thinking of me naked.

Thinking of his gorgeous body, his dedication to the gym, his athleticism, his kind and loving personality under the levels of whiskey. His...his...body underneath his clothes, under every item of clothing. My mind wandered to how big he could've been, and I felt myself moisten…

Oh my God, Claire snap out of it! You disgusting piece of shit!

I grabbed clumps of my hair and hissed a cry through my teeth. What was wrong with me? With us? Why did I suddenly want him so badly? Not just him but… 'him'. What had changed for me to think this way? Was it the nightmares? Was I becoming desensitised to them? Why?

I felt weak where I sat, the park spun in front of my eyes, the bird flew away, my chest stopped moving, I couldn't breathe. A huge weight pressed against my lungs. No matter how much I tried I couldn't breathe and I tried to stand up.

The group of tourists grabbed me as my legs buckled underneath me.

"Are you OK?" one of them asked.

"Looks like a panic attack." I heard another one say. Two of them sat me back down in the chair and another set a cup of water in front of me.

I slammed my notebook closed and cried, gasping for breath. The girl in the straw hat knelt next to me.

"You need to breathe. Focus and breathe. You're having a panic attack." she said.

"It's OK, take some deep breaths." said the fifth one.

I willed myself to fucking breathe, more through the embarrassment of breaking down in public. I was a mess. I didn't deserve this attention. I sipped at the water, everything still spinning like nature was doing a fucking barrel roll all around me. I snatched up my pen, opened the first page of my book and quickly and roughly scribbled; talk to Terrasave psychologist.

After what seemed like an eternity and two cups of water later I had maintained my breathing to more acceptable levels. The five tourists quietly chattered amongst themselves just a short distance away, watching me with concerned eyes. They again approached me, this time holding a chocolate cupcake from the cafe.

"Please remember this. No matter how bad you think things are for you right now, someone somewhere is having a terrible day compared to you." said the one with a European accent I couldn't quite pin down.

They all nodded in agreement.

"We hope whatever you are going through right now will get better." said the third. Spanish accent? I wasn't sure.

"Chocolate makes everything better, right?" said the fourth… another Spanish accent? Again I couldn't be sure.

Only the British one, the shortest of them all, stayed quiet, shuffling her foot against the other, and she handed the cupcake to me. I laughed and graciously accepted it.

"I'm sorry for being a bother." I sighed.

In unison they all disagreed with me, but I cut their complaints off as I saw Moira in the distance.

"Thank you for caring, I appreciate it. I hope you enjoy your vacation here in this city, it's beautiful at this time of year." I gestured to the cherry blossoms, and they hummed.

"What happened in the park, Claire-bear?" Moira asked, handing me a huge bar of chocolate.

I was now in Moira's apartment. She had been quick to find this place once she had turned 18, unable to cope with Barry's overbearing attitude towards her. The place was cluttered; magazines, DVDs and empty snack wrappers were only a few of the things lying strewn about. It was sparsely decorated; only one feature wall had pink leopard print wallpaper, the tins of purple paint sat forgotten in the corner by the bare drywall.

We both sat on her sofa bed, though more of a bed since Moira was too prideful to ask Barry to fix the folding mechanism. The dull drone of daytime tv hummed in the background, neither of us paying attention to it. She was looking at me with sad eyes, though to someone unfamiliar with her it looked more like she was silently judging me.

"Panic attack, I think." I answered, breaking a piece of chocolate and letting it melt in my mouth. I groaned and slumped back against the cushions; Moira knew what the good stuff was. Divine.

"That brothersaurus of yours is giving you panic attacks now?! Want me to break his face for you?" Moira remarked. She was deadly serious, I could tell by the tone of her voice. I laughed.

"No, I don't think he needs his face breaking just yet. Maybe if I keep away for a while he'll come to his senses." I said, staring blankly at the wall.

I thought of Chris and his normally gentle demeanor, and the hugs he would often give me, and I thought of deeper hugs that only existed in my mind, of hugs so close that the distance between our bodies had a negative numerical value to it. I tried to will the image away but it repeated over and over and over, I could almost feel the sensual sting between my legs, I could almost smell him, almost smell his shampoo and his aftershave against my neck and…

"Yooooooo, Claire-bear, earth to Claire-bear!" Moira shouted, snapping her fingers in my face. I quickly shook my head.

"Sorry, Moira," I ate six squares of chocolate in one go, and sighed, my heart fluttering against my ribcage, "I think I need to speak to a therapist or something."

Moira scoffed at me and shoved my shoulder playfully.

"You?! Therapy?! Pah! It's brothersaurus that needs a fucking reality check, not you!"

"I think he's not the only one with issues, Moira. But I'm not comfortable sharing my thoughts, not with anyone, not even you or Chris. Please don't be offended. I need to talk to someone who doesn't know me well." I whispered. She rolled her eyes at me.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Claire, Chris needs a head wobble, and I'll be more than happy to wobble his head, just say the word!" Moira exclaimed, bouncing the sofa bed with her knees. She bounced over to me, took my shoulders, and playfully shook me side to side. "This is only a taste of what I'll do to that dick if he upsets my Claire-bear anymore!"

I giggled and threw a cushion at her face, and I found myself in receipt of the other cushion. I slumped back down again and rushed my hair out of my face, another piece of chocolate finding its way into my mouth.

No matter what he had done, I didn't appreciate Chris being called a dick. At the end of the day he was still my only family, and my best friend. Moira eyed my nearly empty packet of chocolate and ran into her kitchenette, pulling more packs out of the refrigerator.

The TerraSave psychologist, Anna, already knew me too well, maybe she wasn't such a good idea. How could I tell her about these feelings I was suddenly having? These sudden cravings of my brother's body against my own? Or that I had masturbated far too many times thinking of him. Someone out there surely could help me understand why this was happening to me? I pondered how much money an outside therapist would cost. Ugh. How much would Anna judge me if I told her, really? Her job was never to judge. All of us in TerraSave knew that she wasn't just there for biohazard related reasons; she was there for any issue. How much money was I really willing to sink into grasping my alternate reality in my brain?

I made a mental note to contact our collab department, to take my name off the list of TerraSave/BSAA joint efforts. I couldn't afford to screw my head any more by chancing working with Chris. For both of our sakes. Underneath his sudden violent move on me and his sea of amber liquid, I knew my brother was still in there somewhere, and I still loved him as his little sister. A little too much, now, unfortunately. I finished the chocolate and straightened out the wrapper, laying it beside me.

I was going to get him back. I had to. I needed him. And I know he needed me. But I wanted him to calm down first.

I'll speak to Anna the next time I'm in the office.

The song for this chapter is Prisoner by Miley Cyrus ft Dua Lipa

Thanks to MasterOfFangirlingArt for giving me the song suggestion when I asked if she could think of one :3 Grazie! It works perfectly with Claire's current mindset!

Also I hope you, Xaori, Rxbx and Anonymously_Famous enjoyed your surprise fourth wall breaks! I tried to be subtle since I didn't want to delve too much into everyone's details XD and I wasn't wrong about the whole "wrong continent" thing, of course I didn't want to flat out make assumptions lol

Let me know what you thought of my longest chapter to date!