Claire wanted Chris back after his disappearance in Edonia, but what lay ahead of her was far beyond anything she could've ever predicted. Now she needs to be strong, for both of their sakes.


I needed a bit of a brain break from writing Let Me Live, and this idea has been eating at me for a while. I will still be writing LML, but I will be flitting back and forth between these two. This is actually my attempt at NaNoWriMo, but I don't think I'll get the 50,000 words that I need before the end of November. Even if I don't, well, at least I've started a new fanfic! In fact, I'm definitely not going to hit 50k words, am I XD

I'm not doing the song per chapter thing this time.

It's a deviation from the ending of RE6.

This is not connected to Made In Heaven or Let Me Live, nor is it set in the same universe, but it will still cover the Redfield siblings very strongly.


The summer sun spied through the open French doors as the delicate scent of a cooked breakfast drifted into the outside morning air. Sweet little sparrows tapped their beaks at the birch wood bird feeder a few meters down the yard, savouring each little morsel and mealworm that had been graciously left out for them. A squirrel rustled along the grass and gazed up at the feeder, yearning for that tasty food that the birds had. The clacking of a pan in the kitchen startled them, and with the swift beating of wings and the sleek bounce of the squirrel's tail they retreated to the cherry tree at the end of the yard.

A slender, pretty woman curved the wooden spoon about in the pan, tipping the scrambled eggs onto a piece of buttered toast at the kitchen island, before setting the pan back onto the now off stove top. She flicked her damp red hair from her eyes, slid a stool from under the island, and sat down, folding one leg over the other. She silently cut into the toast and stabbed a piece of egg to it as the tv in the adjacent room played out some troubling news to her eyes and ears.

There had been a bio terror incident in China; Langshiang to be exact, and the woman paused the chewing of her meal to listen carefully. Casualties; lots of them, including a sizable loss for BSAA North America. She swallowed her food, and carefully cut more toast, this time with a piece of smoked salmon, but never removing her eyes from the tv.

She couldn't read the scrolling caption at the bottom of the channel; she had left her glasses on her bedside table, but just the words pouring out of the reporter's mouth was enough. She lifted her coffee cup to her lips and took a slow sip, never taking her eyes away from the news.

The city had been successfully reclaimed from the attack, and the clear up squad was in place. All that was left was for the front line BSAA soldiers to move out and let the next stage of the operation take effect.

She switched legs, her thighs rubbing warmly against each other, her cotton shorts loose to her skin, and she sighed deeply. Did she hear that right? Special Operations Unit Bravo was taken out? Why did they even mention that on the news? What about family members of Bravo team? Did they just find out about their loved ones right now? That's a shitty thing for the news channel to do! She froze as she moved her cup away from her lips.

Did..did they just mentioned Alpha team? Spec Ops Unit Alpha? She held her breath and closed her eyes, silently praying that Alpha team hadn't met the same fate. She wasn't a religious woman, she had seen things in her life which would destroy anyone's faith several times over, but she offered a prayer anyway.

She lowered herself off the stool, the tiles cold against her bare feet, and picked up her plate and mug, her eyes still on the tv, each step into the living room slow and careful, her soles padding gently from tile to carpet. She leaned against the arm of the sofa and continued to listen until to the end of the report, before the weather came on, with the jovial, plump man smiling and waving his arm around at the map of her State. Hot weather for the next week, with rather balmy but humid lows in the night. Great. She hated humidity. She especially hated humid nights.

She slowly finished her breakfast, alone with her own thoughts and concerns, desperate to learn more of Alpha team's outcome, but also scared to know the answer she sought. Her mind wandered aimlessly as she took her plate and placed it into the dishwasher. She didn't even know why she used it; it had only been her in this house for over six months. Alone and silent and worried. So worried. She had been constantly sick since last Christmas, she was hardly able to enjoy meals because her pangs of worry would make her vomit. She had lost weight, and she had lost what little muscle mass she had. She wasn't as physically strong as she used to be, and she ran out of energy faster than she used to, as well. She had endured many episodes of insomnia, and even when she could sleep, she was having nightmares.

Nightmares of 'him'. Of him coming home in a coffin, a sealed coffin, forbidden to be viewed because of a hellish end to his life. Sometimes in these nightmares he would reach out to her, his skin peeling from his muscles and bones. He would call out her name, no, he would SCREAM her name, screaming for her help. Other times he would melt, a look of sadness etched onto his face, asking her why, after all the times he had saved her, why couldn't she save him? She would bolt up in bed drenched in sweat, her bedsheets clinging to her skin, her heart rate reaching dangerous levels. She would reach for her phone and pray to fuck that she would have no missed calls or unread messages.

She entered the hallway and walked across the hardwood, running her hand gently along the wall, until she got to his room. She grasped the handle and lowered it, slowly creaking it open, as if he was in bed and she didn't want to disturb him. She breathed quickly, as she always did when she could smell him, her emotions almost overcoming her, and she lay across his bed, reaching for his pillow and pulling it to her chest, losing herself into the emerald green sea of his sheets.

She would often sleep in his bed, gripping this exact pillow, and only then, if she got lucky, could she get a sound night's sleep. She missed him terribly, he had been missing for so long, yet his room still held his scent; she had even stopped opening his window, she had wanted to keep the smell of him in there. She knew it was borderline insane of her to do so, to be that obsessed, but without knowing where he was she didn't want to let any of him go, she was afraid to let him go.

Who else did she have, after all? A few friends, perhaps? None of them could hold a candle to him. None of them. He was her entire world. She didn't need a romantic partner; he was the only man she needed in her life. And she wished dearly for him to come home. She rolled to her side and viewed the tiny photo frame at his bedside, of her with him at a friend's party, his arm around her waist, her own arms wrapped around his neck, her head on his. She smiled at their smiles, and forced the scared tears back.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing in her own room, and she threw the pillow back down, slammed the door behind her, and flung open her own bedroom door opposite his. Her phone stopped ringing just as she reached it, she pulled it from the charge cable, and she frantically swiped at the screen to see who had called her. She didn't have to wait long before it rang again, and, without hesitation, she answered.

"Jill?"

"Claire! Chris is back from China, but he's in a bad way! Get to the hospital and I'll meet you there!" came the voice down the phone.

"Shit! Ok, I'll get there as fast as I can!" she replied, and hung up.

Her heart raced at a thousand miles a minute as she threw her phone onto the bed, and ripped a vest and jeans from her closet.


Let me know what you think, I've got a feeling similar works have been done before, but like I said, I needed a LML break and I like what I have in mind for this.