Chapter Ten:


Claire's throat was hoarse and dry when she awoke the next day. Before she could lift her head to look around, she immediately got winded. What had happened to her? She couldn't remember. Forcing herself up, she sat against her pillows, leaning her head on the mahogany headboard.
She was surrounded by a Mediterranean palette—a sea of light greens, blues and yellows. It was very cherry, although a little bright when the sunlight filtered in through the yellow shag window curtains. Her palm went to her forehead and she ran it down her face to wake herself up (or to assure herself she wasn't dreaming).
Ignoring her protesting body and it's pleas for more sleep, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, then
instantly felt her legs give out from underneath her. A groan escaped her as she crumpled to the floor, landing hard on her knees
and hands. Footsteps sounded in the hall and Leon appeared in the doorway, a fretful look on his features.
"Claire!" He exclaimed, rushing over to help her up to her feet.
"Leon," She said, clutching his shoulders and leaning against him for support. Mostly out of frustration, she blurted out, "What is WRONG with me?!"
"Are you okay?" Leon asked as he set her back down on the bed.
"Don't change the subject," She told him impatiently. "What happened?"
Leon shook his head. "You were in the hospital last night."
"What?" She asked. "Why?"
"You had an anxiety attack." Leon quoted. "Mild--the doctors said it was. And I was starting to worry." He added as if to lighten her mood.
She sat back heavily and sighed. At least she didn't have to remember that.
"...you need to rest for a while." Leon finished and Claire realized that he must have been talking. He looked at her closely, his eyes probing in that way they were such an expert at. "Do you remember anything at all?"
Claire took a deep breath and tried hard to think, straining to remember something. After a minute, she gave up and shook her head. "I don't remember anything after we came home from the club and my hand was bleeding."
A disappointed frown replaced Leon's relieved look. "That's--that's it? Nothing else?"
Claire thought again. Nothing. She shook her head.
"Nothing at all?" He pressed her.
"NO." She said, puckering her lower lip like she used to when she was a little girl.
Giving up, Leon sat back in the armchair beside her bed. "Well, at least you remember who you are. It could've been worse--you could've forgotten everything."
"I remember one thing." Claire corrected him bitterly. "And I wish I could've forgotten the last eight years."
Stubbornly, she crossed her arms under her breasts. "Did he even care that I was hurting?"
Leon looked down at his hands. "Steve... he--he wasn't there."
A tear formed in Claire's eyes, it represented the last hope that she had in Steve. She hadn't known it was there, but as it fell down her cheek, she realized that it was truly over between them.
Her instincts told her that Leon was about to touch her shoulder but she slapped his hand away. "Get away from me." She said just a tone away from hatred. "Just leave me alone."
Leon shrank away from her, hurt in his eyes and expression. But Claire couldn't find it in her just then to dig up any remorse at the moment.
Deciding it was better to humor her, Leon stood and headed for the door. Simutaneously, as he was leaving, Chris appeared. His expression changed from bewilderment as Leon greeted him in an overly civil voice to disquiet as he turned to face her. Then he became apprehensive when he saw her tears.
"What happened?" He asked--no, demanded. Chris never asked.
"He doesn't care..." She said, despondent.
Confused, Chris looked in the direction that Leon had left in, then back to his little sister. "What do you mean? Leon cares. He was practically in a trance when I came to the hospital--"
"Not him." Claire interrupted with a sigh. "HIM."
"Claire." Chris said. That tone was dangerous. It was the Chris Redfield I-am-in-control-and-I-know-what's-best look. He started to say something, changed his mind, then started over--more gently this time. "Sis, listen... You've cried enough tears over him. Please, do yourself a favor--forget Steve."
"I know." Claire said. "It's just hard. When I think of how it was in the beginning--"
"That's in the past, Claire. A long time ago. He's changed--people change!" He raised his voice edgily.
"I know that--don't you think I know that?" She asked. "I just wish that it didn't have to be that way."
"Yeah, well, since when has wishing gotten anyone anywhere?" Chris asked. Once again a forceful statement, not a question.
A silence followed and Claire welcomed it. She already hated talking to Chris about Steve. Finally, Chris regained his composure and said, "I didn't mean to get you upset. I just don't want to see you hurting--or anyone else hurting you. If you want my opinion--and you can take or leave it, it's your choice--but you're better without him. Stronger and better."
Her reply was choked at first, but she managed to spit out, "It's been such a long time. I'm afraid of what I'll be without him."
Hearing it out loud, hearing herself admit it, put a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. But it also presented a bit of clarity when she thought about it over. It was what so many women said--women that were in her very position. Women who thought that it was all their fault. That they had deserved all they had got. But Claire knew that wasn't true for her. She knew all along that she hadn't deserved all that crap.
"You'll still be the same person." Chris said, relieved that he seemed to be getting some progress with her. "Only happier."
Will I really? She asked him silently, but not really saying it because it sounded pathetic. Instead, she looked around and sighed. "So this is the guestroom? The one Leon couldn't stay in?"
Chris blushed. "Well, yeah. Rebecca and I needed some time to ourselves. We were supposed to go to her parents house today--to meet her family. There's... big news."
"What kind of news?" She asked densely.
Chris gave her a Look and she gasped. "You mean--? She's--? For real?"
"Yes, for real." Chris said, running his hand through his gel-slicked hair. "I freaked too, when she told me."
"That IS big news." Claire said. "If it provides any comfort--you'll be a great dad."
"How do you know?" He asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but hoping the praise had validity.
"Because...you took care of me when mom died." Claire said. "But that's probably a bad example, considering how I turned out."
"You turned out fine." Chris snapped. "You were doing so well in your photography classes. You should keep it up. Your camera and other equipment is still up in the attic, you know."
Claire looked out the window, not really wanting to touch the subject. Finally she looked back to him. "You need to go with Rebecca. And you'll be a great father."
"I wouldn't feel right leaving you now." Chris argued.
"Chris, there are things that you want to do, and things that you need to do." She told him. "And you really do need to do this."
"Spare the lecture." Chris said.
"I'll be fine. Being here will help me sort things out." Claire assured him. When she saw the skeptical look on Chris' face wasn't disappearing, she added, "I promise I will be okay."
"And?" Chris pressed her.
"And?" She repeated. "What's is 'and', exactly?"
Chris stood, towering over her. "You won't go back to him, will you?"
Claire shook her head. "No. I promise that I won't."
"Now THIS is something that YOU need to do." Chris said, meaning to have some humor in it with cruel irony. But he said it seriously.
"It's something that I want too." She replied honestly.