Chapter 22 "A new page."

Hunk tried to move and he felt sluggish and heavy as if weights were attached to his limbs. The mercenary's head throbbed, and he noticed a slow aching pulse at his midsection. Finally, he cracked his eyes open and felt a slight pain from the light. The room was dimly lit, but it was enough to hurt his eyes.

'Where... am I?' He thought to himself. Above him was a plain purple ceiling; he spread his fingers to touch the surface he was on, soft-percale sheets.

The last thing he remembered was an unimaginable amount of stress.

That was not normal; he never allowed anyone to get the better of him. He did not get the title of Mister Death amongst the Umbrella's private military for nothing.

There was a table to his left that held a collection of items. As Hunk focused on it, he recognized his gas mask and uniform. He grabbed his uniform, but as it unfolded, he saw dark stains spread all over it. The blood was dry.

Again, he attempted to recall what happened.

Outside the room, the wind bellowed like a roaring wolf.

Snowstorm?

Understanding this was a moment of solace. Hunk honed his thoughts. This was a safe house that Mike set up, and one of the last things the merc remembered was that Mike prepared his food. Over dinner, they spoke of their revenge plan, and then what?

Something moved, and Hunk's heart raced, in a reflex, he tried to reach for his weapon, only to feel the sharp pain in his hand, he almost made a loud gasp, but he knew better than to alert whoever is here with him.

Every movement was taxing, but he turned his head to the right... There he saw a brown-reddish hair spilled over the bed, a girl sleeping bending over the bed from her chair. She had a heavy navy jacket on.

"That's…" Hunk's voice was hoarse, and he widened his eyes. "Claire Redfield?"

Why was she here?

A man stood near the window in front of the bed. His dark-thick clothes made him blend in with the curtains.

Hunk held perfectly still for a moment. He cannot recall anything, so the word abduction came into his mind. But that makes no sense? If he was abducted, he'd be restrained, and so would Claire.

He could feel more bandages in his arms, his thighs.

"Well... look who is up." A familiar voice broke the silence. The man in front of the window gazed back at him, a smirk etched on his face.

Nighthawk paced back to the bed and touched Hunk's shoulder.

"How are you feeling?"

Hunk took a breath and looked away from him. A hundred questions played in his mind. Where is this room? Why was he bandaged? Why was Claire here with them? Why was his uniform bloody and torn?

The eye strain over Mike's eyes was still visible to Claire and Hunk. Both separately concluded that Mike was potentially fighting his sleep for days to secure their collective safety after doing so much.

The smirk vanished from Nighthawk's face slightly, and he seemed to be puzzled by the reaction.

"Are you okay?" Mike leaned forward.

"What happened?" Hunk asked at last. "Where are we?"

Nighthawk was silent at; first a great deal of concern was evident in his face. "We are in a Russian motel. I paid associates to help us relocate."

Hunk closed his eyes. He remembered something that happened while they were in the safe house, which made him decide to... leave.

But what happened after that? He strained, but even though scraps of memories teased the edges of his consciousness, they stayed blurred.

Until he realized what Nighthawk just said.

"We are in..." Panic overcame him, and he pushed himself to a sitting position. He gasped, then bit down on a scream as pain tore through his midsection.

His vision flashed white as the migraine stabbed through his head.

Hunk felt Nighthawk's hand touch him and push him back to the bed. He was talking, but Hunk didn't understand a single word.

As Hunk moved back towards consciousness, the sound of wind roared like an angry animal, and it taunted him.

The mercenary gazed at the window, and snow still swirled outside, and it looked bitterly cold.

He tried to move again, and a hundred horrible aches and pains returned.

The room was the same. However, Claire was no longer asleep. She just walked out of the bathroom with a towel around her hair. Once her eyes saw him, a smile graced her face.

"I'm glad to see you awake." She whispered. "We were worried for a while now."

Mike sat next to Hunk's bed, with fresh clothes. He reclined in a chair, one leg folded over the other and a mug clasped in his fingers.

"You wish to be spoiled, huh? Sure, I'll buy dinner."

Finally, Hunk was able to recall some of what had happened. He came into Sergei's facility to face his past. But, instead, he fought Nikolai and killed him.

He heaved a sigh and avoided his companions' eyes.

Nighthawk shook his head. "Come on, Jamie, it's alright."

However, Hunk remained still, unemotional.

Now he was concerned, Nighthawk stood and bent over the bed. "Jamie, look at me..." Still no reaction.

Mike pursed his lip in concern and joined Claire on the couch. Silence dominated the room as Claire looked at her water bottle.

Although she's aware of the slight bond between brothers, the survivor still understood sibling comfort.

Mike called Hunk 'Jamie,' it reminded Claire when Chris called her 'Claire bear.'

She grew to appreciate the pet nickname because whenever she was not in the best place emotionally, a call from their shared childhood would help bridge a conversation between them.

Claire looked away from her water bottle to recognize Mike's concern.

Claire could not help but feel bad.

It was apparent Hunk was coming to terms with his trauma, his feelings he kept locked away for a long time.

The feeling was not alien to Claire; Chris spent close to his adult life as a soldier. The occupation evolved as the excuse to drive people away and not wish to discuss his experiences.

This will not be easy.

"He needs time." She whispered to him.

Nighthawk ran his fingers through his hair, wondering if Hunk would ever be the same. But perhaps it's good. Nighthawk and Claire stood up and respectfully left the room to an adjacent.

Maybe Hunk needed to be left alone while he recuperates.

"Claire, I was able to track your brother; he's with a UN coalition unit." Nighthawk broke the silence. "I will escort you there. This way, you will no longer be involved."

Claire shook her head. She could not help but smile. "It's fine. I just want to call home and let my roommate Annie know that I'm okay. I'll stay here with you guys."

Nighthawk rubbed his temples. "You are too sweet." Claire's peppy attitude will eventually get the most hardened personalities to eventually become vexed.

The survivor owed the pilot a confession after all they've been through together. "You know, Nighthawk..." Claire winked.

He cut her off. "Call me Mike."

That was a surprise she did not expect.

"Are you sure about that?" A sense of joy and confusion consumed Claire.

Nighthawk rubbed one eye as he did not turn away from here. "I'm sure. You are a friend to me now."

Claire placed her hand on her heart in awe. "I feel the same. I have grown to enjoy your company. However much you annoy me at times."

Mike smirked. This woman is adorable and a weirdo.

"You know: your kindness is your greatest weakness," The pilot decided to be honest with her. "What if I chose to rape and kill you? You don't know what kind of a person I am or could become."

Claire's lip winced at the slight breach of trust. "Yeah, I get it. I tend to be a little too trusting sometimes. I do need to work on this." She rolled her eyes. "I can defend myself. It would appear that you two are eager to get yourselves killed in some sort of suicide pact."

Mike flinched. "Hunk did not ask you to risk your life for his. We would never blame you if you left us to our fates."

"That's not the point, Mike." Claire set the water bottle on a nearby table. "All that is ever happened is I've watched people I know become husks of their former selves in some mission they think they can solve alone. I am not going to allow that to happen again. So I'm staying, and you're going to have to force me to leave. Even if you try to ditch me, I will find the both of you."

How much Mike would have preferred to restrain her with handcuffs and ditch her in a safe location. Claire has the leverage in this situation. She has seen their faces, Mike's arm is broken, he's exhausted beyond belief, and she would be able to disarm the pilot should he try to shoot her. She's recovering too, but she is still more mobile compared to Mike. It would seem, at this moment… the pilot is incapable of getting rid of her.

"Go on to the receptionist. I did give him a heads up about you using the phone," Mike commented.

Claire's face lit up with joy, for she couldn't wait to hear the sound of her friend. She must be worried sick about her. It's been four days since Claire was taken to Russia.

"Thank you." She whispered and hurried out of the room.

"She's got moxie. I will give her that." So Mike thought out loud when the door closed. Then he went for the room to check on Hunk.

His eyes stared blankly at nothing in particular at the ceiling.

"James..." Mike spoke softly, "Our father is dead, trust me. We are free now."

The comment earned Mike a slight reaction from his brother. Hunk's eyes moved to stare at him. Still, he said nothing.

...

"Oh my goodness, Claire." Annie cried in the other line. "Where have you been, girl? I was losing my mind here. I tried to look for you and... Are you okay?"

Annie bombarded Claire with the questions. Speaking a million miles per hour.

"Annie... slow down, please." Claire cut her off. "I promise I'm fine and well. I will be back home soon, and I will tell you what happened, alright?"

Annie took her breath, an attempt to calm her racing heart and stop her tears. Claire seemingly dropped off the face of the earth.

"Be safe, and come back to me in one piece."

"You have my word, hun." Claire chuckled and hanged up the phone. The survivor shivered suddenly and tightened the coat around her body.

Claire paced to the front door and stared at the snow outside. One of her peers would say she should live in the moment, in which the past is always gone, and each day is something new, a stepping stone into a future she dreams of even in the cold. Instead, she went through after the hell, first in town where she lived, then here in Russia.

Claire recognized she is not cut out for fighting forever. This is not who she is. Stopping psychopaths was more of a job or chore to her. She compared herself to Chris and Leon. They made it their life's purpose to prevent Umbrella's remnants from affecting the world.

Snow danced in the light. Yet, again, she felt confused about herself; what could be her true calling?

Claire presented an image that she likes to live in the moment. Sure the jokes and her playful quips can be interpreted as confidence, but it was to help her cope with the stress. Ever since Rockfort Island, she dreamed of a quiet life where she can do her job and contribute to survivors, away from chaos.

But now is not the time to step aside again. Claire's eyes narrowed in determination at being there for these two moronic brothers.

With that, she returned back to their room.

When she opened the door, Mike was nearby with the doorway to Hunk's room wide open.

"Claire, can you watch him for a moment. I need to leave to get painkillers." The pilot did not wait for her to answer, and silence dominated the room.

Hunk still did not move and do anything. Claire felt tense and confused about what she should do now. How can she talk to him? Would he accept her existence?

Biting her lips, she reached the couch and took a seat. The storm outside started to worsen, and the wind's sound was like that of a crying creature. Then, finally, something flickered in Claire's mind. This could help.

Her eyes remained focused on the window, a bit of an unorthodox approach, but it could work.

"That reminds me . . ." Claire paused for a moment. "Back when I was young, I felt terrified and lost. My brother Chris did so much for me. He helped me feel secured. But still, I felt like a child thrust into the world with no experience. I don't know who I'm and what I could do. I finished A bachelor's degree in business... still, I didn't seek an office job. Then, the incidents at Raccoon City and Rockfort island came along, leaving me with trauma. And I still don't understand what I am supposed to seek exactly. What could be perfect for me?"

Hunk stirred slightly, and his eyes stared toward her; she could see this from peripheral vision. Claire felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps he can be good.

"What I'm saying is. I cannot imagine how much it hurts, but you can now start picking up the pieces. The possibilities are endless."

Silence dominated again. Out of nowhere, she felt a cold hand touch hers. She realized she was holding her breath. Like the action itself had impinged upon her senses. But after a second, she started to relax. There is no reason for her to feel like this.

Soon the hand retreated. Perhaps it was a simple enough gesture, a fragile sense of comfort.

"I should have died," Hunk broke the silence. His voice was a bit hoarse. "I should have become that Bioweapon. Nothing would ever be the same."

Claire's shoulders sagged in defeat. Is this what depression looks like?

"I..." She whispered. Unsure if she should talk about this or leave him alone for a while.

"Alright." She thought to herself.

...

Later that night, Claire and Mike sat on the ground, blankets wrapped around their shoulders, and they had their dinner ready. Something simple from a nearby restaurant. There isn't a table and a good place for that. This is a simple Motel, after all.

Hunk was asleep with an IV recently attached to his arm.

"Is this okay?" Claire pondered

"Yeah, he'll be fine. We've recovered worse than this." Mike said before chewing his food.

Claire took a breath in relief. She chose to ask him what bothered her for a while now. She felt suffocated, especially this night. It just took a toll on her even more.

Four days she was confined to this room, for her to recuperate from her own injuries and to lay low for the time being.

"Mike?"

He finished drinking his soda. "Hmm?"

"Do you think it's fine if I took a walk around town? It's getting cabin fever in here."

Mike's lips formed a slight smile. He always imagined her asking about this much earlier and maybe nagging him about it.

"It's okay. You should have told me you wanted to take a walk. Though you are going alone."

The pilot yawned and laid down on the rug, wrapped in his blanket. "It feels like I'm gonna die any moment now if I don't get my much-needed rest."

"I thought you had high endurance?" Claire pointed her fork at him.

"I reached my limits." Mike's voice was muffled when he covered himself entirely with the blanket.

It's a bit funny sight to see, for he didn't even bother to wash up. Speaks volumes of how tired Mike was. Maybe it would be in bad taste to tell him to take a bath or shower. She placed her hand on his blanket and whispered. "You deserve your rest."

He felt heat drench him like the breath of hell. Why? He couldn't quite understand that. He pulled down the blanket and opened his eyes. Claire already turned away and started to put on the appropriate clothing to match the weather.

Mike turned away and stared at the ceiling…

…

Hunk was sitting in a field of green wheat, the stalks bent lazily in the wind, and he marveled at the grains.

Each one was distinct and though different from the others, still perfectly formed.

"Jamie..." He heard a familiar voice call out to him. There to his left stood his former partner, in her full uniform a few meters away from him. "Come join me." She held her hand, waiting for him.

Once again, Hunk felt stress engulf him ever so slowly like poison.

"No." He murmured.

He felt a woosh of air, and she appeared to walk across his depth of field, proclaiming space right beside him and taking one step to stand right above his skeptical eyes. She knelt down over his lap. "Why? Is it because you don't want to face your guilt?" The former partner snarled.

Her eyes bled, droplets first, then soon coming in powerful streams. "You killed me. You need to pay for it." She screamed. The former partner grabbed his collar, and within seconds he felt himself getting pushed a few feet behind with ease. Then, however, his body slammed against a rough ground. "Kristen, look… I…" Hunk mumbled.

Kristen stood ahead of him, covered in blood from head to toe. Her fingers had grown in size to resemble that of a monster claw.

"No." He screamed. "I had no choice."

Hunk's eyes shot open as his breath hitched in his throat. It took a moment for him to realize that it was just a dream. The room was dark and still.

All brought a sense of horrific emptiness. And for the first time in years, he felt tears in the corner of his eyes threatening to fall.

The mercenary bit his lips to hide the sound of his whimpers. The anger and stress he'd felt were expelled, exhausting his every fiber of vibrancy. Something turned his emotions upside down.

Little did he knew someone saw him.

Claire was about to walk out of the bathroom when she heard his voice. It was like the sound of someone choking on their own pain. Perhaps he will not appreciate it if he knew he was discovered during his moment of weakness.

The survivor covered her mouth with her hand. The great Grim Reaper was crying. But, of course, no one is ever gonna believe that.

After standing there for what felt like hours, Claire coughed loudly to alert him that she is awake. However, to her surprise, the noise didn't vanish.

Slowly Claire opened the door and took a peek at the room. She could see Hunk shivering clearly from the movement of his blanket.

'What should I do? Should I ignore him and go back to bed?' Claire knew he does not take it well when someone speaks of his vulnerabilities. She still recalls the time he almost choked her to death for just mentioning his real name.

She stepped outside of the bathroom, careful not to make a sound. Just a few feet and she would be in her bed-couch.

The moment she looked away from him, she heard a voice.

"Wait." He called out to her.

"I'll go to sleep. I've seen nothing and heard nothing." Claire attempted to assure him that she will not talk about this to anyone.

An eerie silence followed, to the point if a needle fell, she would hear it. She could swear Hunk could listen to her loud heartbeats.

"Stay with me..." He broke the silence.

That was a shock. Was Hunk asking her to sit near his bed? Why?

Claire could not think of anything to say, so she obeyed and went for the chair, the apparent anxiety evident in her erratic movements. She looked like a leaf on a windy day. Then, swallowing a lump in her throat, she took a seat and folded her leg over the other.

At first, there was silence. Neither one wants to talk and has any idea what to talk about.

"I killed my partner..." Said Hunk.

Claire felt her breath hitch in her throat. His partner? The one Claire was shown that she has her likeness.

"It was the day I chose to become the nickname the other soldiers referred to me. Nothing good would ever come out from feelings and friendships. The mission matters more than anything."

Claire could see that he was staring at her, but she did not want to look him in the eyes.

"Why are you telling me this?" Claire asked.

Hunk finally broke eye contact with Claire. "Because I don't understand what is wrong with me anymore."

Thank you for reading. Hope you liked this.

special thanks to my beta reader The95will