Author's Notes: After a long wait, I finally put out chapter five. I'm kind of sad that I haven't been getting much feedback, but that's life. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Free free to email me with any suggestions. ( rhea@mayaku.org )

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Chapter 5; Bullet Proof

He wouldn't.

"Steve?"

Claire Kennedy.

"Steve? Are you okay?"

He finally opened his eyes and the world came back into focus; she was still clutching her t-shirt and he'd dropped the canister on the ground like an idiot. Her face showed bewilderment and a hand was on his shoulder. He bent down and stiffly retrieved the spray."Oh.. sorry."

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No." It made so much sense, his mind had figured it all out. How could he have been so foolish to think she could have felt the least bit romantic towards him? Girls didn't love dead guys, they moved on. Especially someone like her. She was no exception to the rule. The dead were dead. Hadn't she said that to him when he killed his dad? It all fell together like a blow to the stomach and his ability to speak was gone. Steve Burnside has left the building folks, he thought dryly.

"Are you sure..?"

"I'm fine, Claire." He was still shocked about his feelings. His protectiveness. His desire for her to think of him first, not Leon Kennedy or her brother. Then it hit him, hadn't she kissed him? Maybe he was overreacting. This thought sated his worry for the time being and he went back to working on her wound, spraying the antibacterial all over.

She gasped as cold met hot and tried to resist the urge to pull away. The foamy mixture was bubbling on the cut and she bit down on her lip to keep from screaming out. Despite how many times she'd been injured, she could never get over the feeling or the smell of the potent healing mixture. As the scent of the first aid spray wafted to her nostrils, she was reminded of Chris Redfield and an incident where she'd fallen off her bike at age seven. It seemed like just yesterday that she had come crashing onto the sidewalk in front of Chris' friends..

..She'd gone down, followed by a flight of laughter as all of his friends snickered. "Go play tea party." They had jeered at the tomboy as Chris walked over, taking her into his arms. Then he'd stared at the boys with a fierce sense of protectiveness, the kind only a brother could generate. But even that look hadn't silenced the kids: they had kept stating that she was just a girl who had no damn business trying to tag along with them, even if she was a Redfield. The older sibling had ignored them nobly and instead of putting her down, he had decided to walk with her back to their house. Then, while washing the multiple scrapes and scratches out with Bactine, he'd told her that she could always count on him. This memory made her realize how much she missed him. How much she wished he was there. How everything seemed better with Chris around. They had been united three months ago only to be divided again. Life was a bitch and then you died. That statement wasn't completely true though.. She had Steve..

"Almost done." Steve patted the area down using the blood spattered cloth and then began to wrap the t-shirt's remnents around her waist. He was finished within minutes. He stood back, admiring his handywork. Not too bad. He glanced up at her, smiling. "All done."

"God that hurt worse than the actual injury. Thanks though." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pushed herself off the hood, landing with a dull thud.

"Claire, behind you!"

She spun around and her eyes widened; something was climbing out of the building's rubble. Chunks of concrete went skyward as the being surfaced, revealing the familar icy blue skin with a loud grunt. She exhaled sharply. "That's Tyrant.."

"What's that?" Steve asked softly as he watched the creature emerging from the ruins. He gave it a minute or two before it would be fully mobile and ready to destroy. He turned to Claire and his eyes were asking what they should do.

"A killing machine that's roughly related to what you became when Alexia injected you with the T-Veronica Virus. Trust me.. we're screwed.. unless.." Her eyes brightened as she remembered the fiasco with the Bandersnatch and the weapon.

"Unless..?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear her plan. He remembered what it'd been like to be a monster and the urge for blood shed followed by the need to destroy everything. He'd almost killed her. That fact still haunted his every move and he wondered if it could ever go away. Could he ever forgive himself for his actions? Turning his attention back to the problem at hand, he prayed that this creation wasn't as relentless as he had been. If it was, they didn't stand a chance..

"We could disable it.." She took the Grenade Launcher off her back and held it in her hands, twirling it around.

"Let me do it then." He wasn't asking, he was demanding.

"I've fought one before, I can--"

He cut her off, his voice rising. "You can what.. die? No. You're not dying on me Claire Redfield. You're not. I won't let you. You've already lost your share of blood for the day. It's my turn. I won't let someone I love die. You're too hurt. He would.. he would.." He trailed off, realizing what he had just said. He hadn't meant to complicate matters and if he wasn't been so concerned and frantic, he would have been blushing.

She stared at him. "You..love..me?"

He nodded.

The silence was broken by a loud sound as chunks of formally airborne concrete came crashing into ground. It was a maelstorm of debris as the beast tried to break free from the makeshift prison: time was running out. She handed Steve the gun and brought her hand up to his cheek in an attempt to reassure him. She wished she could make everything fade away into a bubble that consistedg of them and nothing else. She took her hand from him and sent herself out of the fantasy. She couldn't say what she wanted to; it would only distract Steve in a sick game where distraction spelt death. "Go, before he gets loose. I'm going to get this jeep working and then I'll swing by and get you. Then we're gone, even if it's still alive. We're escaping this hell alive and together. Got me?"

"Yes." He muttered, turning to run.

"And Steve?"

"Hm?" He paused, looking back at her.

"Stay safe."

----

Claire yanked at the Jeep's door handle and found that it was locked. It took a moment for the meaning of this to hit her and as it did, she stopped thinking logically. Instinct kicked in and her thoughts weren't much different from Tyrant's; they were made up of pure impulse. She didn't feel panic, sorrow or worry. Instead she felt a strange sense of exhilaration that ran through her whole body and it told her to move, to hurry.. to survive. She unstrapped the Assault Rifle from her back and raising it above her head, sent the gun slamming into the car's window. The glass shattered and pieces cascaded onto her exposed skin, hooking into her flesh like minuscule teeth. She didn't cry out. In her frenzied state, Claire brushed the iridescent shards off her arms and reached inside the hole where the window had previously been. Unlocking the door, she set the gun on the dashboard and begun to hotwire the Jeep.

----

Steve Burnside had never been so terrified in his life. He wanted to turn around and run like hell, but his legs were frozen in place. Transfixed by the monster emerging from the rubble, he stood there wasting valuable seconds. He had to do something. He knew there have no chance if Tyrant was untouched when it reached him, but the Grenade Launcher stayed in the same place as before; at his side.

Would you like to die in front of Claire again?
Not really.
Then you have to move..

He groaned inwardly at his mind's proposition and took a deep breath, followed by a step forward.

The monster had its back turned to the seventeen year old and was free from the rubblem, revealing its full size, which was twice his height. Steve shuddered and breathed in, taking aim. He breathed out and pulled the trigger.

Steve stumbled backwards as the gun fired and watched the grenade fly into Tyrant. The muscular body shuddered then swiveled around, uninjured. A pair of black eyes penetrated his and the gaze was cold it froze him in place. He swallowed. This had been a bad plan, a really horrible one. Tyrant's eyes were two bottomless pits of death, one for Claire and one for himself. He stepped back clumsly and franatically tried get aim for its head.

He fired again and that's when the hulk started to walk in his direction. The feet clomped on the ground, one labored step after another and they caused the earth to shake violently. He shot again and Tyrant pressed on. Everything was happening in slow motion. Another round met the hard flesh and the creature stopped. Had it felt something? Or maybe...

Tyrant charged at him.

Run.
I can't.
Run for christ's sake.

His legs acted before his mind did, breaking into a sprint. His pace quickened as his limbs carried him away from the oncoming terror. He ran harder; away from the Jeep, the building and then into the field. Tyrant was right behind him and it was getting closer, so close that he could hear its breathing. His chest was burning and in a detached way he wondered how much longer he could run. He couldn't die this way.. he was Steve Burnside, he was seventeen, he wasn't meant to die--

--and he was pinned on the ground before he realized what was happening. Claws slid down his side, lightly at first then with more pressure. The beast was toying with its catch. He felt the blood leaking from his side and stilled. Irrationally, he thought: it's going to gut me, gonna kill me.. then his thoughts were interrupted as the weight on his back disapeared along with the claws. It had changed its mind. He looked up as Tyrant lifted him up into the air. He staring at the boy dangling from his arms, deciding what to do and Steve took this opportunity to shove the Grenade Launcher in its face. This was his final stand. If this didn't work, he died. He was calm as he found himself pulling the trigger.

He fell with the hidious mutated creature. They were in a fatal embrace and Tyrant was slashing at him as they collapsed. He pulled the trigger once more. The world became a splotchy red and he cried out as he hit the pavement. Sprawled out next to Tyrant, Steve was fading in and out of conciousness. Everything hurt. Then he thought he heard the squeal of tires..

He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them, he thought he saw an angel running to him. His vision blurry and she faded in and out, like a tv bad reception that was ridden with static. He wondered if she had come to take him to Heaven. She reached where the two lay and grabbed the weapon, stepping back. She shot the remaining rounds into Tyrant and he saw that her lips moving; the girl was saying something to the suffering creature. She turned back to him and tossed the gun down.

"Steve." She shook him. "It's still alive, come on, wake up. We need to go." She wrapped her arms around him and he could hear her heart hammering. Her voice was on the verge of becoming hysterical. "Steve.. open your eyes. Open your fucking eyes."

"Claire..." It wasn't an angel, it was her. He stuggled to stand and felt one of her arms slip around his waist. They gripped eachother tightly and half-carried, half-staggered to the Jeep.

----

After securing Steve in the passenger's seat, she slammed her foot on the accelerator and sped off. Claire didn't bother to look back at the stunned Tyrant, it scared her. She followed the road from the parking lot to the highway and after some time, glanced down at the boy next to her. He was sleeping. Keeping one hand on the wheel, she slowly ran her fingers through his tanged hair. She could feel him tense up from her touch and she quickly removed her hand. She didn't want to disturb him: he needed and deserved his rest.

She felt alone, but it was okay. She was used to isolation. Her mission was to find a payphone and reach Chris because once they reached the older Redfield, it would all be okay.