Chapter 20: The Parting of the Ways

Claire had never seen Leon Kennedy cry before. There had been moments she was certain he would as he tried to drown himself in a fifth of vodka every now and then, but that vulnerable part of him had always shut down, tucked in tight, and flew back behind the marrow of his blue eyes

The first time she had witnessed Leon's perseverance begin to crumble was the night she had come back from the arctic after Rockfort. Chris had needed to meet back up with Jill and Barry, so he had rented her a car to go and meet Leon at an apartment he was using in the city his training was being held in. Her brother hadn't actually met Leon at that point, but he thought highly of the rookie cop who had managed to not only survive the outbreak, but also help his sister do so too.

Leon had been standing on the patio when she had arrived in the black Crown Victoria to his home in December of 1998. When Claire stepped out and met him at the steps, she spotted the still smoking cigarette that had been stomped out only moments before. Leon's youthful eyes were haunted when he stepped forward and pulled her into a clumsy hug.

Although Leon had said he understood, Claire got the impression that he was angry at her for leaving him and Sherry behind to chase after the lead she had in Europe.

"What happened?" She had asked, her voice rough from the hours of silence on the plane.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" he had responded dryly when he tried to smile but failed.

His front door had opened, and two men filtered out onto his porch. One of them held a deep red briefcase in his hand. Claire's eyes had slid back over to Leon's and tried to read the words that seemed to flash in his anxiety filled gaze.

"They're from the agency. They helped me get in contact with Chris." Leon explained then as he rubbed the back of his neck. He had moved closer to her while she had watched the two men descend the steps.

"Ms. Redfield," The man with the briefcase had a slow gait and seemed to be at complete ease when he had reached a hand toward her. "I'm Dr. Martin. I work in the Washington D.C. agency and have been sent over to assess you."

Claire had gripped the doctor's hand solidly when she turned toward him. At the time, she had no reason to fear their assistance, nor was she even concerned that she could be infected with a virus that had gone through the stages of mutating from a second one in her system. Although a bit tired and worn, she smiled, greeted him kindly, and followed the men inside.

Leon continued to stay close by her side while she and the doctor chatted. Dr. Martin's hands had been warm when he drew her blood on Leon's second-hand couch.

When the doctor had finished, he had given Claire his card before he and his partner had left abruptly. The promise of a follow up had been laid down in direct eye contact the doctor had made with Leon.

Leon had closed his front door quietly before he moved to sit closer to her on the couch than he had before. What she saw in his face had made her think of the lost gaze she had also seen in Steve Burnside. The hug she gave him was as much for herself as it was for him.

Why did the men in her life always end up looking at her in the same ways? Tragedy had been following her for years, but despite her attempts to stop it, it was always looking back at her through different eyes.

When Leon stood and said something about getting food, Claire had stared around at the apartment. As a starving college student, Claire was in no position to judge anyone's home, but something seemed off in the house before it dawned on her in the silence.

"Where's Sherry?" Claire had asked.

The look on Leon's face would live in her memory as a marker to the beginning of his descent. It was the first glimpse of what the government agent looked like on him when he explained what the agency had chosen to do with Sherry.

Claire's natural response back then had been anger. Anger had kept her warm as it burrowed and allowed her soul to grow impervious to the world around her. At nineteen, she hadn't realized yet how fast that wick was to burn.

The months following came in the forms of late-night phone calls, and hastily purchased plane tickets when Leon had spiraled further into a depression she hadn't fully understood. He would grimace whenever she would ask about his training, and so Claire had been a guiding, gentle presence at his side.

When he would find the time to visit her city, she would pick him up from the airport in Colorado and just hold him silently when he got in the car. Horns would blair behind them in the pick-up lane, but Claire didn't ever seem to hear it when his hands would thread tightly in her hair.

"I'm here." She would whisper to him each time. "I'm here, Leon."

"I know."

Somewhere along the way, when they had traversed through the desert after escaping Raccoon, Claire and Leon had quickly become surrogate parents to a bright, lonely, little girl who had just lost everything. They had managed to find a truck stop with a dinner and motel attached. As they sat eating, Sherry had seemed to come alive while she watched the pair of them banter back and forth and engage her in the conversation. Sherry had been a child happy to be included and never forgotten.

The motel hadn't been anything to write home about, but it was the moment that she and Leon looked in at the single bed that she recognized something. At this time, they didn't know each other that well; they had spent a night fighting in proximity to one another, and they both knew the other understood what lived under their skin when a loud sound would trigger the trauma response.

Their true introduction had been the quiet moments they spent speaking as Sherry slept in between them in the bed; the young girl was wrapped around Claire as Leon softly ran his hand back and forth across the worn child's back. Their quiet conversations spanning everything and nothing as they both opened up without the threat of death dogging their every step.

There was an understanding in war; those who shared life-shaping, intense experiences, such as bearing the brunt of death amongst each other had one of the most resounding impacts.

A bond had been formed in Raccoon, and without even speaking it aloud, the former police officer and the college student knew they could wholeheartedly depend on each other. It wasn't just about survival. It was about comfort; knowing there was someone beside you that can perfectly relate to the hell you went through. The higher-minded motivations were stripped away, and it became about protecting that other person at all costs, even when the landscape was far behind.

For Claire, it had been a bond unlike any other as she clutched Sherry in the motel and spoke openly and honestly to Leon. Whispering fears, she told him things she hadn't ever told anyone, and Leon had held open a protective space for her to do so. In turn, she gave him the same.

In Sherry's image, Claire had seen herself at fourteen; standing in their family's living room, staring out at the police officer that spoke quietly with her brother when their parents had died. While Chris had been the unlikely provider in the house, Claire had taken on the role that many women had done throughout history; she held the family together and protected what they had left.

Claire knew now that Leon most likely saw himself when he had looked at Sherry too. The parallels of the little boy he had been in 1988 were apparent; he too had clung to the arm of a police officer in New York when his parents had been slain. Only he had gone to an orphanage whereas Sherry should have gone home with him.

Their visits to the little girl at the agency were monitored and Sherry had always been too sedated to seem genuinely happy to see them. Her golden blonde head would droop every so often and she would become confused easily. It was a huge contrast to the little girl Claire knew her to be even in their short time together. Some of Sherry's questions would be repeated as she would forget their answers every so often. One question had always been the same though.

"When can I come home with you?"

Leon would drink the heaviest on the nights returning from those visits. Often, Claire would catch him sitting out on his porch in the late nights. He would sleep on the couch when she would visit his home, leaving his bed to her.

The squeaky hinges on his front door would always give him away in those late evenings. When Claire admitted that fact, he had smiled, but he never bothered to oil them; he was a man who knew he needed the lifeline.

On the porch, he would set the bottle down, and simply hold a wavering hand out to her when she stepped out. So, Claire would sit, sometimes in his lap, looking out at the stars, and she would speak quietly into the silence he couldn't seem to fill at the time.

It wasn't a secret to Claire on why she had developed feelings for the torn and devoted man. As the years would go by, Leon would become steady in his purpose to the agency; his body reflecting the changes she couldn't see in his mind. The weekly visits had gone down to monthly, before it was at longer intervals due his extended stay in various missions, but he would always come knocking.

Some nights, he would forget that she was in his bed when she visited, and he would crawl in beside her. His arms would always reach for her, and she would find herself searching for a home in his hold. After a while, Leon had stopped sleeping on the couch altogether when she was there.

Had she known more about his childhood then, she would have better understood what failure tasted like to a man like Leon and what losing Sherry meant to him even as the years went on. Whatever deal he had made to protect Claire from the same fate would keep him emotionally further than any mile could stretch him. Even on the nights he would hold her close, she felt like she was somehow still an arm's length away.

There had been nights where Claire would feel like she was drowning. A friend she would always be, but when he pretended to not notice her advances, she should have suspected more. Instead, she had continued her march into the oblivion of the loneliness she knew so well. Never once questioning anything else but her own worth as she had buried herself in school, books, and rides into the late nights when her phone didn't even buzz once. The mother's lullaby of her Harley's engine carrying her further than the things she dared to feel.

Now, as Claire laid on the ground in the Bay of Biscay lab, she watched as tears ran down Leon's cheeks; there weren't any secrets between them any longer. His fall backwards seemed to happen in slow motion as she remembered the nights on the porch, the distance he made himself keep, and the things they never seemed to be to one another.

The Samurai Edge tumbled from his grip and clattered to the ground. The wound in the middle of his chest began to bleed profusely where he had shot himself instead of her. The red of his blood spilling over to color against the pale tinted tile after he hit the ground.

Claire was briefly aware that the high-pitched noise she heard in the room was her screaming. She was scrambling to her knees and closing the distance as her palms sought to cover his wound.

"Leon!" His eyes were on hers as he let out a hiss and his hand came up to clutch his chest where the Plaga most likely raged inside. Spasms began to wrack his heavy form, and Claire held the pressure to his wound as best as she could.

The sounds Leon made sunk down into the furthest reaches of Claire's soul as he spasmed; the bullet in him had been designed for bioweapons.

"I'm here." She whispered through her cries. "I'm here, Leon."

When his body finally stopped shaking, Leon let out a breath; his head rolled toward her, and she took in the recognition in his eyes as he responded in the way that he used to. "I know."

He was in control, not the Plaga.

Claire was staring down at her hands, and she considered giving him the same treatment she had for Sebastian. However, she would be trapping the poisonous round inside him if she cauterized it. Wracked with indecision, Claire was trying to maintain her breathing while her head whipped back and forth, searching the empty lab for an answer.

"You teased me with that stupid riddle for months before I figured out the answer was a lousy rainbow." Leon spoke quietly below her.

Claire couldn't stop her whimpers as she barely took in what Leon was saying. Her eyes were frantically looking around the room for anything as his warm blood was welling beneath her palms.

"Never told you though," Leon went on, and she jumped when his hand softly dragged through her tangled hair. "I didn't want you to think of harder ones. Truth be told, you're a terrible flirt, but you always managed to make that riddle sound so dirty."

Claire sobbed out a laugh and settled her red rimmed eyes on his again. "Well, it wasn't my cooking you kept coming back for." She whispered brokenly.

He managed a real smile at her then, his hand went from her hair to one of her hands over his wound. Claire moaned in despair and parted her shaking lips; words dying on her tongue. She had missed that smile so much.

His tears had stopped, but the blood at the corner of his mouth caught her attention and when he jerked again, the blood dribbled down his chin.

"It burns." Leon gasped.

Claire looked to the gun laying on the ground in front of them before she paused.

Claire lifted her palm and quickly wiped away the oozing blood while she looked down into the wound. The blood seemed to be slightly off colored, making it appear almost purplish. Claire shook her head slightly as she remembered the color of the bullets that had been in the gun. She replaced her hands over the wound again, her mind scrambling to recall Tam's lecture when he had been reviewing the ammunition types that Blue Umbrella had brought into the Santander hotel.

"You'll know your ammunition type based on colors. Blue is anti-parasitic, and red is anti-viral. We naturally brought both, but we'll need to test the blue ammunition on local Ganados. Potency is based on weapon size and Plaga type—"

"Get up, Leon." Claire blurted. She grabbed one of his hands and pressed his palm into his own wound. "Hold your hand there." She began to climb to her feet.

"Little busy dying, Claire." Leon groaned, applying as much pressure as he could before wrenching back in a spasm.

"No, your parasite is dying. Get up!" Claire was grabbing under his arms when she sat him up. "I'm willing to bet it's going to take as much as it can with it, or it's going to try and escape."

Leon cried out as Claire helped him stand on his feet, his left arm curled around her shoulders. He was leaning heavily on her while she began to drag him back toward the chair device. She tried to ease him down gently, but Leon jerked in her grip as he spasmed again, back bowing.

Claire shoved him into the seat and grabbed his face. His eyes snapped open to look up hers. "Claire—"

"I know you're in pain, and I suspect this isn't going to be a picnic either, but I need you to sit still. Don't move and keep your hands over this." She quickly replaced his hands over the pouring gunshot wound.

She stood there for a moment as her mind kicked into overdrive. "You have the recessive Plaga, Leon. The parasite lives within you, but it can't affect more than your body can do on its own. Saddler though…The dominant Plaga seems to produce cells in rapid formation. Yours controls you, but it can't replicate large forces of mass. You're still you…" Her voice carried off while she considered the ramifications of the bullet.

"What are you—do you know how to work that?" Leon uttered weakly, his familiar note of sarcasm filling his tone while he watched her move toward the glowing screens across the way.

The tone made Claire laugh softly as she wiped her eyes and slid over to the computer. Her eyes were darting around at the buttons. Maybe she wasn't too late after all.

"I used to kick Chris' ass on Rainbow Road in Mario Kart. How difficult could this be, right?"

"Shit." Leon muttered weakly behind her.

"You did this to yourself, Kennedy, you would have had a better time shooting me than yourself." Claire said distractedly, falling into their same patterns of banter they had adapted over the years; she knew Leon preferred humor when dealing with traumatic events.

Claire hit a button and the device lit up above Leon.

"Noted for next time." Leon coughed as he actively tried to remain still.

The screen flared to life in front of Claire, and her eyes widened to see Leon's chest cavity again. The Plaga was thrashing wildly in its chest. Her eyes lowered and caught sight of a tiny black spot that hadn't been there before. She could only assume it was the bullet.

"You shot your Plaga…" She breathed in excitement, she lifted her head over to him and a smile lit her face. "You really have some luck when it comes to self-sacrifice."

"If I survive this," Leon winced as he spoke. "We're going to talk about your bedside manner and while I'm at it, your cooking."

Claire moved to the controls that sat next to the screen. She looked toward the glowing green button at the top right, and she hesitated with her finger hovering over it. She looked back toward Leon who sat watching her, his skin was paling, but he looked and sounded more like himself than he had since she had been in Spain.

"Leon?" She called, her voice coming out small.

"Still here." He murmured with a half-smile. "And Claire?"

"Yeah?"

"I heard every word you said to me these last few days. I heard every promise you made even when it wasn't me at the helm." He said with his throat bobbing and leaned his head back in the chair. "You didn't give up on me even when I was hurting you."

Claire nodded as she felt her fresh tears begin to choke her. "I would never give up on you, Leon." She said thickly.

Leon seemed to search her gaze before he finally said, "Start it up, Claire."

She hit the button and watched the screen change. Plaga Elimination System flashed across the screen and a set of percentages began to populate. Vitals were listed in the bottom right corner, and Claire noted them as she hit the start option.

The machine above Leon began to buzz and the two claw-like devices burned brighter. They began to reposition to the Plaga it tracked within. The machine zapped him once, twice, and then Leon began to scream. Claire hunched her shoulders as she turned from him to look down at the Plaga that was darting around in his chest cavity on the screen.

Her eyes skipped down to the vitals, and she shuddered when she observed his heart rate working at 156 BPM. The machine flashed a warning across the computer. Claire looked back up and saw one of the radiation beams hit the Plaga head on and it began to break up on screen.

Leon had gone quiet, and Claire turned to see him limp in the chair. The beeping on the device changed to a faster pattern.

"Warning, life signs failing." A cool computerized voice came up from the device's speakers. "Warning, life signs failing."

"Come on, come on." Claire whispered as she grasped the sides of the control panel and watched as the machine zapped him twice more before two beeps emitted from the machine. The device began to power down.

Claire darted around the computers and rounded the chair to Leon. His hands had gone slack at his wound, and the blood had begun to well in the chair beneath him. Claire applied pressure and listened quietly for his heartbeat with her hearing. It had become faint, and slow, like a great clock that had begun to wind down.

Claire felt her panic rise; she had managed to free him from the Plaga's control, but without treatment he was going to die from blood loss and shock. With the parasite dead, she theorized that the danger to his system could be lessened, but this was derived on theories and dumb luck.

Claire lifted her hand and the fire that ignited was weak and orange in color. Lifting her fingers to Leon's stomach, she pressed with direction and breathed through her mouth as his skin began to sizzle. When the wound was mostly closed, she pulled her hand back and prayed.

Claire's thoughts snagged on the communicator Sebastian had given her. Reaching into her pocket to fish the device out, it slipped a few times in her bloody hands and she spat a curse before she finally managed to pry it apart.

The call began to connect after a brief pause.

"Claire?" Sebastian's deep voice filtered through the speakers.

"Sebastian," Claire breathed in relief and held her emotions in check. "I need help."

"Are you alright—" He began before two explosions sounded somewhere near him.

"Connect me to someone who can do a medical extraction." She said, her heart began to pound as she recognized he was in an active warzone. The growls of something inhuman wailed somewhere in the background.

"Done. I'll send the coordinates to them." He said quickly. He sounded like he was running. "Are you safe? Do you want me to come back?"

"I'm ok." Claire closed her eyes and found herself bowing her frame to his voice. She knew he would come back. He would leave the fight for her if she only asked. "I'll be fine. Leon's Plaga is out; It's over. It's finally over. I got it out, Sebastian."

"Good girl. I'll see you soon." She could hear that tinge of pride in his voice before the line disconnected.

Claire carefully set the communicator back in her ripped pocket and she sent up another prayer for the man who had worked beside her tirelessly in the last six days. She had meant every word to him before he had left the lab. She wouldn't have made it this far without his support, or his care.

She turned her head to look at Leon's pale face and she began to cry again quietly. There had been so many moments where she truly considered this to be impossible. There had also been so many ways to get this wrong, but somehow, a broken woman and an infamous mercenary had somehow managed to help put a stop to the ongoing terror that encompassed Spain.

Ashley Graham's face appeared before Claire's mind, and she found herself bowing forward further to sob into Leon's chest while her hands clutched his limp one cross his lap. The faces of Commandant Molina, the boy she shot in the chest, Ada, Tam, and the many citizens of Spain swirled before her.

Claire had managed to survive three different outbreaks now and the list of people lost along the way was an ever-present essence that seemed to exist within her. The problem with surviving was that she ended up with the ghosts of everyone ever left behind riding on her shoulders. A curtain of crippling numbness drifted over her, a depression so great it wavered behind her eyes and threatened to pull her down.

Claire lifted her head when Leon's heart gave a great thump and began to strengthen.

"Leon?" She whispered. Her capacity to soak up pain like a sponge lengthened her spine as hope bobbled beneath the surface.

When he didn't stir, Claire took a large breath, stomped her feelings down and set her features. She would perform CPR until help arrived if she had to.

With her tears drying on her face, Claire looked up into the serene face of the man who meant everything to her, and she prayed to every single god she knew. Leon's heart continued to beat steadily, and the night began to creep into the morning of October 31st.

When the door to the lab from the hall slammed open sometime later, Claire jerked from her thoughts. Her hand was instinctively grabbing for the knife in Leon's holster. She held it ready in one hand while she simultaneously lifted the Samurai Edge she had collected earlier. She stood in front of the chair, primed for what would come through.

The men who entered wore tan desert camo fatigues, their guns training on Claire before her eyes caught sight of the forward-facing American flag on one of the men's shoulders. Claire felt her knees wobble as her countrymen moved forward and commanded her to drop the knife and gun. She did so with her hands raised. When they pressed forward, she backed up into the wall and watched when they began to swarm around Leon.

There were five men in all, and one lifted a large bag next to the chair before he pulled out a device that looked identical to the thermal imaging scope that Michaels had pointed at her chest only a few days prior.

"Clear." The combat medic called. He began to pull out a blood pressure cuff, sets of needles and tubing. The bag of Lactated Ringers Solution was placed between Leon's legs as the medic then wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Leon's arm.

"Ma'am?" The soldier in front of Claire repeated as her eyes snapped to his. One of his hands held a gun pointed toward her chest, while the other was loosely holding the same scanning device to check for the Plaga.

"Go ahead." She said before she wet her lips, her hands kept near her head as he scanned her quickly. When the device gave the same simple beep that Leon's had, the man lowered his weapon.

A third soldier stepped forward and grabbed the Samurai Edge from the ground. He pulled the clip out before he looked toward Claire. "Three bullets left."

"Are you hurt?" The soldier in front of her asked.

Claire's eyes squinted at his Corporal insignia before she shook her head. "No, sir."

The Corporal seemed to shift slightly while she watched his eyes snare on her burned, tattered clothing and lack of shoes. Leon's and Sebastian's blood still littered parts of her skin, but aside from bruising, she knew she didn't have any open wounds to show for it. His eyes went to the Samurai Edge in the third soldier's hand.

"Who are you?" The Corporal demanded.

"Claire Redfield, sir. I came here at the request of the United States Strategic Command. My escort is Agent Sebastian Smith."

The men behind the Corporal paused and glanced over at her admission. Even the combat medic paused before he went back to inserting the IV into Leon's arm.

"Where is Agent Smith?" The Corporal asked then.

"Fighting the bioweapon known as Osmund Saddler. My assignment was the retrieval of Agent Leon Kennedy." She said as she kept her manner direct and stuck to the facts. The line she danced in aiding Leon and protecting Sebastian may come closer than she would like, and she prayed to any higher power listening that she'd never have to choose between them.

"You'll come with us then. We were briefed by the Field Operations Support before the call came in. You'll be debriefed before you're released into quarantine."

"I can't do that, sir." Claire said as her heart began to pick up speed. "My orders were interrupted from Ingrid Hunnigan. My new orders come directly from Anders Orski. I need to get back to my escorting agent."

The Corporal opened his frowning mouth but was quickly cut off when the combat medic called out to him.

"Ready to move, sir."

Claire looked over and saw the combat medic holding the IV bag above Leon's head. An ECG machine had been placed between Leon's legs; the steady measure of Leon's heart activity rippled slowly across the machine's screen; the color had slowly started to return to his features.

A soldier waiting beside the bed moved out the door and pulled in a sturdy looking field gurney. The wheels tracked in the muddy earth of Spain and rolled through the drying blood Leon had spilled earlier. Claire's eyes were moving back to the Corporal's who seemed to be studying her for a beat too long.

"We don't usually leave civilians on their own." The Corporal said then, taking a step away from her.

"The United States Strategic Command doesn't usually send civilians in either, yet here I am. I need to finish this." When his eyes met hers again, she added, "Sir."

"As diehard as they come." The Private with the gurney said with an approving nod.

"Will he live?" Claire asked then, lowering her hands to her sides finally.

"This is the agent who was captured and held here for two months?" The combat medic asked as he studied Leon's slack and slightly still burned face.

"It is." Claire confirmed.

"Did you cauterize his wound?" The combat medic continued.

"I didn't know what else to do." She said as she clenched her right hand at her side.

"You saved his life. He's most likely got internal bleeding, but we can manage that."

Claire could feel the tears pressing in around her eyes when she nodded and stood strong under their stares.

"Well done." The Corporal said then. He glanced at the machine that Leon sat in before he turned his attention back to her. "Did you remove his parasite?"

"I did." She said, lifting her chin slightly.

"Might be a place in a unit for you, Civvie." The Private called boldly from the back. He smiled at her kindly and adjusted the gun in his arms. He jerked his head to the soldier who checked her gun earlier beside him. "Rodgers can barely remember to clean his ears at the end of the day."

"Tan is not my color, sir." Claire retorted, picking up on his attempt to make her smile. A single tear dropped from her eye, but she made no move to hide it.

The soldiers were moving around Leon soon after that. They turned their attention from her while they prepared him for the gurney. Claire watched as they moved in unison and slid Leon onto the narrow gurney, Leon's shoulders easily hung off the side. When he was strapped securely in the Semi Fowlers position, the combat medic and the private began to direct the gurney back down the hall.

Claire realized they had come in from the way that she and the others had arrived. Her path led in the opposite direction towards the docks.

"Wait." She said as she walked up behind the gurney.

The combat medic paused and stepped aside in the narrow walkway when she pushed forward. Claire was grabbing onto the railing of the gurney before she reached over and brushed her fingers against Leon's cheek. His chest rose and fell in a steady pattern, but he did not wake under her touch.

"I kept my promise, Leon. Now you keep yours. I'll come find you soon." She said softly.

Claire lifted her head and met the stare of each soldier while they waited for her. "Thank you. Please get him back safe." She was turning back toward the other door before the combat medic put out a hand in front of her.

Claire looked down at the handgun he was holding out and met his eyes.

"You've got three bullets left. Take it."

"I'll have you know," Claire said as she wrapped her hands around the gun. "I lose more weapons than I care to admit. If I manage to keep this one, I'll send it back with a thank you card."

The combat medic let a twinge of amusement lift at the corner of his mouth. "I'd prefer a beer, but I'll charge it to the agent's tab; tell Smith he still owes us one."

Claire pushed the door leading from the labs open and was greeted with the early morning air of Spain. She could hear the distant crash of the shore when she spotted a cliff face not too far off from a chain linked fence before her.

A small fire caught her eye, and she let out a quiet laugh to see a very familiar face standing off towards the rocks that lead down the narrow path ahead.

"Stranger!" The merchant from the castle called out to her in greeting.

"You sure do get around." Claire said, walking up to him cautiously. The large pack at his feet was open and various types of supplies were poking out from the top.

"Got lots of good things on sale, stranger." He replied easily. His infected eyes were as startling as they had been the first time she saw him, but he somehow managed to keep his faculties even now.

Claire glanced down at her torn clothes, Leon's knife in her belt, and the two firearms in her hands.

"Unfortunately, I'm out of baubles."

Claire gave him a small wave before she moved forward. She knew that if Sebastian was with her, he would suggest some form of violence towards the man. She could have easily taken the merchant, but as he was one of the only local allies she had consistently seen through her time traversing Spain, he was a white stag among the many.

Killing a white stag, or as the metaphor depicted—an innocent, carried a harsh warning across many cultures. Claire knew it was said to bring terrible luck to whoever broke the oldest of rules: You never wronged your allies when they showed themselves.

Given Leon was only a few paces from safety, and Sebastian was engaged in the middle of war, Claire didn't dare to tempt fate; she didn't have that kind of luck to spare.

"Stranger." The merchant called to her.

Claire stopped and turned to look over at him. She took a step back as he tossed something that crashed before her.

A pair of worn boots lay in the dirt. Claire leaned down to scoop them up before she returned her gaze to the merchant's shuffling form. The man was hefting his bag onto his shoulder and he didn't meet her gaze again when he began to walk toward the labs.

"Thank you." She said softly. The merchant didn't respond before he disappeared through the doorway.

Claire studied the boots that seemed to be in her size and looked curiously toward the dawn that was only a few minutes away. The stars above were fading from sight as she pulled on the boots and wiggled her sore toes in the soft leather around her bare feet.

Claire jogged the rest of the way towards a large lift that sat beyond a sturdy iron bridge at the far end of the path. She turned to look back toward the trail and her eyes were suddenly drawn to a chopper that was poking out along the side of the mountain as it rose steadily to the sky; the blinking lights giving away its presence in the semi-dark.

Claire let out a soft breath and she watched Leon's transport turn toward the horizon. She found herself covering her mouth for a moment as the emotion swelled in her breast.

When the chopper started to become a speck in the sky, she lowered her hand and squared her shoulders. They still needed to kill Saddler and make it off the island. From the sounds echoing down from the next area, she knew it wasn't quite over yet.

The tall elevator at the end of the bridge swayed back and forth as it rose to the next area. Claire gripped the railing tightly; the sounds of a fight carried down to her sensitive hearing. When she reached the top, she staggered back to see the monstrosity that she could only assume was Saddler. The spider-like mutation was stomping along the path as multiple people darted around the small space and fired round after round into its hulking form.

Claire jumped as the communicator in her pocket began to blare. When she had it flipped open, she smiled to see Sebastian's ID flash across the screen. She connected the call.

"On your left."

Claire swung her gaze to the cliffs on the west end of the docks. She saw the glare of the scope glinting in the fresh sunlight that was starting to rise in east, and she gave a little finger wave.

"Who's the creep now?" She called in a cheeky tone.

"It's always been me. I can assure you of that."

"How did you even see me?" She asked, tilting her head toward his far-off position.

"Your hair. It's always the hair." A warm tone was entering Sebastian's voice while the sounds of battle echoed through the ear piece.

"What do you guys need? I got a hot date after this and I'm looking to make this fast." Claire's high spirits seemed unstoppable as she considered their impending victory.

"He sounds like an asshole. Wanna switch sides?" He asked.

"That's just his face. He's got a wicked mouth though and he loves me. Can you top that?" Sebastian's pleased chuckle mingled with hers.

Claire turned as Saddler's attention caught on her. The roar echoed across the docks as he began to stomp his large form her way. Claire could see Bruce trying to catch her attention.

"Hold that thought."

Claire held the communicator open in a solid grip as she began to pump her arms and ran for a folding bridge to her deep right. As she was mid-way across, the out of place traffic light switched and the small bridge began to lower. With a great leap, she managed to hop across to the last few feet before the bridge had arced downwards.

Rounds were slamming into the back of Saddler as his focus had changed to Claire. There were two other forms running with Bruce far behind Saddler.

"Claire, you need to get out of there. They're going to fire an RPG." Sebastian's command lifted from the device in her hand.

Claire caught herself on one of the construction bars and looked around at the area. The platform was raised higher than any portion of the connected area to the island. Her eyes snagged on a wooden railing that trailed off to a lower area she couldn't quite make out.

With her eyes set on the destination, she began to make a final push. The muscles in her legs were shaking after a night of fighting through the island, but she didn't break her stride once.

She had just descended the railing when she heard the RPG release. The platform in front of her hadn't been fully built and the drop below was a good ten feet. Claire leapt as she felt the impact shake the platform behind her. Saddler's scream seemed to pass through the holes in her clothing as she fell toward the ground.

The communicator and gun both bounced from her hand as she landed with a grunt. Pain flared up from her ankle as she began to roll along the rocky foundation of the slanted mountainside. Sharp edges of the rocks bit into the skin of her palms and arms. She soon came to a sloppy stop at the leveling ground.

"Claire?" Sebastian's distant voice on the communicator drifted down to her.

"I'm okay—" She started to call out as she pushed up on her hands and knees.

The needle that slid into her neck was startling and felt cold as the stopper was depressed quickly. Claire felt the drugs pulse through her in the seconds before she could even lift a hand.

Tam's blurry form limped into view as the edges of her vision began to swirl towards a pinpoint.

"Tam?" She uttered in confusion as her hands holding her up began to shake.

The Blue Umbrella soldier said nothing when he moved to scoop up her weakening form.

"Sebastian!" She tried to call, but it came out in a whisper.

The trek down the mountainside seemed to level out further while Claire felt her chest shift on Tam's shoulder. Her limbs felt heavy, and she couldn't even lift an arm or summon an ounce of the rage it took for a flame.

A black shape began to come into view as she turned her head slowly. The sound of metal sliding back on metal was loud in her ears when the door to the grounded chopper was pulled back in front of them.

Claire whimpered when she was transferred into the arms of someone else. When she lifted her head to see her own reflection in the sunglasses of Albert Wesker, her whimper magnified to a horrified moan.

"No." She managed.

"Still awake?" The deep baritone of his voice seemed to wrap around her throat.

The chopper powered up and the metal door was left open as the terrain began an upwards blur when they lifted slowly. Claire was clenched tighter to Wesker's chest when the chopper rose to the platform above.

Claire could make out the running form of one man who was shouting something below. Claire jerked forward as the nearing figure came into view. Sebastian.

Claire's confused state had her jerking forward further and reaching out a hand for Sebastian as he neared the edge of the docks close to the hovering chopper. Claire winced when Wesker's gloved hand wrapped in her hair and yanked her back to him. Wesker's head appeared over her shoulder, and some part of her consciousness knew he was grinning down at the mercenary who betrayed his orders.

Claire could almost make out the gold of Sebastian's eyes when the chopper started to lift away.

The second needle in her neck quieted the sobs in her throat.

"Hello again, dear heart."

Claire's head fell against the hard planes of Wesker's chest. His angular face was smirking down at her while the red behind his glasses flared.

As her vision began to darken, his catlike eyes seemed to imprint themselves in her mind. She dizzily had the thought that it was a fitting image to see on Samhain. She had read that Púca who disguised themselves as humans would always retain one animal-like quality.

But Wesker was no Púca; he was much worse than that.

With the hum of the helicopter sounding like the great beats of a heart, Claire closed her eyes and fell further into the arms of one of the most dangerous men in the world.