A/N: I just realized there's a discrepancy in my story. When Claire starts thinking about Chris's career, I don't mention him going to college. However, Chris had to be in the military if he flies a fighter jet (like in the closing sequence of Code: Veronica) but in the US Air Force, all pilots are officers, and all officers attend college. However, I'm not changing the story because I'm lazy and slothful and have no motivation to.
(This brings out an interesting inconsistency in the actual Resident Evil storyline – if Chris did go to college, that means he graduated at 22, most probably. That gives him three years at the most to join the Air Force, go through training [roughly two years' worth, so says my source], fly with a squadron, leave, drift for a while [could be any amount of time, really, but I'm guessing somewhere between four-eight months], meet Barry, join the "newly-formed" STARS and transfer to Raccoon City [where he's friends with other Bravo and Alpha Team members, so I assume he's lived there for at least a couple months]. And don't forget – somewhere in there he squeezes in the time to become a superb marksman before he joins STARS. What a guy, that Chris.)
Chapter 3
Sunlight streamed into the hotel room, blinding Claire as she opened her eyes. Groaning, she rolled over and shut her eyes to block out the glaring light. She'd slept surprisingly well last night – no dreams. Maybe because she was in a real bed. As she slowly sat up, Claire saw that both Chris and Jill were missing. The light in the bathroom was on, though…
Claire yawned, rubbing a crick in her neck away. The bathroom door opened, and Jill stepped out.
"Good morning, Claire." Jill shut off the light and approached Claire. "Chris went out to get something for breakfast. He should be back soon."
"Alright…" Claire shifted positions to lie on her stomach. "Does the TV work?" Jill nodded and tossed the remote to her. "Thanks."
"Welcome."
After flipping through several channels, Claire finally settled on one with cartoons. It was all in French, but what the hell? It wasn't like she was watching anyway. She stared at the screen without really seeing anything, and started to think. Claire knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do – these days, thinking only made her more depressed – but no other diversions seemed readily available.
At first, it was mostly memories that came to mind. Claire tried to avoid all the unhappy ones, but the more she remembered the harder it became. One of her happiest recollections was a family trip to Canada when she was eleven – but right after that, her mother had died, and three months later, her father. Following her parents' deaths, Claire and Chris were shuffled into a foster home. Chris turned eighteen a couple months later, and they'd both agreed it would be better if she stayed in foster care. Chris couldn't really afford to look after her.
Then he'd joined the Air Force and left Claire by herself. Chris would visit every Christmas, and usually once or twice a year besides that, and they were in communication on a regular basis, but it wasn't the same. Then Chris got the ol' boot – an argument with a superior officer – and he'd drifted for a while, working here and there for a quick buck. He visited her during that time, and told her how low he was feeling, gave her an early birthday gift, and then he'd left. Claire didn't hear from him for almost a month, and then he reappeared, apologizing profusely for not talking to her for so long.
He'd met Barry Burton in a grocery store, of all places, and they'd talked a bit. Barry told Chris about S.T.A.R.S. and offered to give him any help he could joining. Claire was both pleased and upset when he took up the job. Raccoon City was a long way from Georgia, and Chris wouldn't be visiting once a month any more. But even after the move, they stayed close.
A week and three days after her eighteenth birthday, Claire moved out and headed to Indiana, where she attended a state university. Chris visited more often, and he called once a week to make sure she was alright. Despite her protests, Chris also dished out a portion of his paycheck for Claire, saying that as a bachelor he didn't need the whole thing.
Then the nightmare started…Chris called on July 22, right on schedule. He said something about Bravo Team going in to check out some weird stuff in the forest nearby, but added that it was nothing too serious. When Chris called again, he seemed tense and wary. They talked for less than five minutes before Chris hung up and left a puzzled Claire on the other line. He was more normal the next time, although still a little distant. In early September, he told her something was big was going on, and he'd get in touch as soon as he could and – Claire still remembered the stern voice he'd used – he told her to stay far, far away from Raccoon City.
Even after that, Claire expected a letter or a phone call within a week or two. But by the end of September, nothing happened. She'd called dozens of times, both to his apartment and to the R.P.D., and to Barry Burton's house as well. Nobody answered anywhere. Claire started to panic. She decided she couldn't take it any more, that she had to see Chris, and, in a state of alarm, she'd gotten on her motorcycle and headed towards Raccoon.
"BOP! Heeheehee!"
Claire blinked, frowning, and refocused her eyes on the TV. A purple mouse was hitting a young boy over the head and laughing. The dazed boy stood and started walking with his arms held stiffly out in front of him and a line of drool trickling down his chin. Zombie…
Claire tapped a button on the remote and the screen went black. If only killing real zombies was that easy.
The sound of the lock clicking alerted Claire to her brother's return. Seconds later, Chris trudged into the room carrying two large brown paper bags. Claire sat up, curious. And hungry.
"What'd you get, Chris?" He looked over, as if realizing for the first time she was there.
"Claire, you're awake! Sleep well?" Claire nodded and looked into one of the bags. Some buttered toast, wrapped in thin paper, and a glass bottle filled with amber-colored juice. "I got you apple juice and some stuff from the bakery. Hey, Jill, didn't see you there…" Claire tuned out the rest of their conversation and started rummaging through the bag he'd dropped on the bed.
As she munched her toast thoughtfully, Chris and Jill started discussing their plans for moving out of the city. Claire would be more than happy to get out of Paris – after her capture in the Umbrella building in that same city, she had to be careful. They were probably looking for her. Unless they thought she died in the outbreak on Rockfort, although that was unlikely. They probably sifted through the bodies and identified them all.
Claire pulled one of the little disposable packets of jelly out of the bag and opened it. As she spread it over the lightly browned bread, a rosy lump of strawberry jam splattered onto her denim-covered knee. With a muted expletive, Claire tried to rub the stain away, without success. When she lifted her eyes from her pink-stained leg, she saw Jill observing her.
Claire plastered a smile on. "Real smart, huh?" Jill continued to watch her coolly.
"Maybe you'd better buy some new clothes, then." Jill turned to Chris. "You too. We're leaving Paris today, anyway, so this is the perfect chance. What do you say? It might be fun."
Claire just sort of sat there for a minute. To be honest, the thought had never occurred to her, although now that Jill mentioned it, it was so simple it nearly rose up and smacked her on the forehead. Shopping didn't seem…right, in the present situation.
"I…guess so…" Claire hated how uncertain and feeble she sounded, and cleared her throat. "Yeah, that sounds nice. Shopping. Fun." A little more convincing this time, but not quite what she'd hoped for. Chris shrugged.
"You want to go now? Most of the stores are open, and we could probably get there before it gets crowded." Jill nodded and stood, pulling a black purse from the nightstand and starting towards the door. Chris followed suit and meandered after her towards the door. Claire stood and approached the door. As she turned to leave, Claire took one last look at the hotel room, almost as if she was searching for something lurking in the shadows.
Then she shook her head, smiled a tiny I'm-so-paranoid sort of smile, and made sure the door was locked. It slid smoothly shut behind her, locking out her troubles for at least a little while.