Claire found herself dozing off as she sat at the edge of Steve's makeshift hospital bed. The day had taken quite a lot out of her but she still had a nagging thought that she didn't want to leave him alone. She was worried he would wake up in an unfamiliar place and panic, or fall out of bed and hurt himself further. She was even more worried that she would wake up and find out that all of this had been a dream.

So she stayed where she was, perched beside him, even well into the morning hours as Steve slumbered. She watched his chest rise and fall, thankful for these quiet moments. She clasped his hand gently, mindful of his IV.

Her eyelids were heavy. She finally gave in and rested her eyes. Just for a few minutes, she told herself.

When she opened them again, early morning light was streaming in through the curtains. She lifted her head off of the edge of the mattress with a sigh. Her neck and upper back ached. She rolled her shoulders lightly in an attempt to remedy that.

Claire turned her attention to Steve, rubbing the back of her neck absently. Her stomach dropped and her blood ran cold. He wasn't breathing anymore.

"Steve?" She asked quietly at first, repeating his name louder when he didn't respond. She grabbed him by the shoulders, giving him a shake. His head lolled to one side, his entire body limp. "No, please. Steve, wake up. Please. You can't leave me." She whimpered, tears running down her cheeks.

His eyes fluttered open and locked onto Claire's. They were red with little black slits where his pupils should have been. He opened his mouth to speak but only a low moan came out.

Claire immediately pushed herself away from the bed, knocking into the chair she'd been sitting in and knocking it to the ground with her. It broke, splintering and ending up in several pieces beneath her. She scrambled to her feet, heading to the phone. She had to call Rebecca and her brother.

With shaking fingers and looking over her shoulder at the figure on the bed that used to be Steve, she dialed the number Rebecca had left behind. It rang - until it eventually went to voice mail.

"Shit." She cursed, hanging up and pressing the speed dial for her brother. She watched the monster rise from Steve's bed, long limbs tangled with the sheets. It eventually stood and took one step before falling to the ground. It couldn't walk on a broken knee. It wasted no time and started dragging itself towards Claire, jaw slack and teeth gnashing against air.

"No, please." She found herself praying, begging. Chris didn't answer. She dropped the receiver and scrambled for her room. She locked the door behind her with sweaty hands. She dropped to her knees, looking under the bed for the shotgun Chris had mentioned. She found a long, steel box. She pulled it out in one singular motion. She unlatched the box, throwing the top open.

With shaking hands, she loaded two shotgun shells into the gun. The moans were louder now, just outside the door. She could see it's shadow under the crack of the door. A sob wracked her chest as she forced herself to her feet again. It was almost like she was on auto-pilot as she closed the distance between her bed and threshold. She unlocked the door, aiming the barrel of the gun close to it's head.

"I'm sorry, Steve." She whimpered, closing her eyes tight and squeezing the trigger.

Claire was jolted awake as she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her heart pounded in her chest, her stomach in knots. Her face was wet, no doubt from the tears she'd been crying in her nightmare.

"Hey, are you okay?" He murmured quietly, his voice a bit hoarse. "Y'crying."

She sat up and sucked in a deep breath, wiping her palms across her face. She was silent, gathering her thoughts for a moment and trying to calm herself down. She managed to nod, digging her knuckles into her eyes hard enough that she saw stars.

"S-sorry. Sorry." She finally choked out once she could. "It was ju-st a bad dream. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I can tell." He smiled weakly. "You're okay." He squeezed her hand gently. "What did you dream about?"

She was hesitant to respond. She looked to him and then to their hands. "I lost you. Again." The words alone were enough to cause another sob to rip itself from her lungs. "The vaccine rejected and you…. you turned and… I had to put you down." She whimpered, burying her face in the crook of her elbow. She felt relieved and embarrassed and happy all at once.

Steve couldn't help but give a short laugh, which he immediately regretted and pressed his hand to his ribs. "You were that upset about me?" He asked, incredulously. He almost didn't believe her.

"Of course I was!" She hit him lightly in the arm with the back of her hand. "…asshole." She sniffled.

He leaned forward the best he could, wiping away a tear on her cheek. "Well, I'm not going anywhere, so…. You're just going to have to deal with that, I guess." He smiled.

She smiled back, albeit a little weakly. She took in another deep breath to gather herself. "Thanks."

"….I hate to ruin the mood, but I really have to piss." He scratched the back of his head. "….sorry, I know it's not glamorous, but…"

"Oh!" Claire stood up, feeling her whole body ache a bit from the position she'd slept in. She was thankful for the subject change, if she were being honest. She eyeballed Steve, wondering if she could lift him alone. "…can you wait until Chris gets here?"

"Sorry, I've been waiting." He gave Claire somewhat of a pained look. "Rebecca has me in a brace, I'm pretty sure I can make it there if you just give me a little support to keep me steady."

Claire swallowed hard but nodded. She pulled the blankets off of him, her face getting hot when she realized all he was wearing on the bottom was a pair of dark blue boxers. She tried to ignore his attire and helped him swing his legs around the side of the bed.

"Careful." She murmured, using her shoulders under his arm to steady him. Luckily the bathroom wasn't far – about fifteen steps or so. She counted each step as they moved, getting him positioned in front of the toilet. She still felt a little embarrassed.

"I'll just… be outside. Let me know when you're done." She stepped outside the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She wrung her hands together as she waited.

Steve put most of his weight on his good leg, using his free hand pressed flat against the wall for balance. It felt good to be out of bed, if he were being honest. He rolled his shoulders and his neck, hearing tiny little cracks and pops as he did.

He flushed and hobbled over to the sink, washing his hands. He took his time, enjoying the way the warm water and soap suds felt on his skin. He remembered longing for hot, running water in the prison. He couldn't wait to feel well enough to take a shower.

He made the mistake of looking at himself in the mirror. His hair was matted and clearly dirty, only furthering his desire for a long, hot shower – he had deep, dark circles under his eyes and all kinds of cuts and scrapes on his face. His lips were chapped and his skin was pale. He made a small noise of disgust and shook his head.

"All done." He switched the water off and dried his hands on the towel. He hobbled over to the door, opening it carefully. He was thankful when Claire squirmed her way under his arm again for support. "….thanks. Uh, sorry, if I smell." He added after a moment. He wasn't going to complain about any sort of physical contact from Claire but he genuinely felt a little bad. "Haven't had a shower in a while." He smiled weakly.

"It's okay." She glanced up at him. He definitely needed a shower, but she didn't want to make him feel bad. "We'll get you cleaned up soon. Might even give you a sponge bath." She joked.

"Really?" Steve perked up. He seemed to like that idea. "….you got a cute nurses' outfit, too?" He grinned.

She laughed. "Glad to see you're feeling better, Steve." She carefully helped him back into bed, pulling the sheets back over his legs. He settled into the pillows with a comfortable sigh.

"Thanks for taking care of me, Claire." He murmured after a moment of silence. He almost felt guilty that Claire was spending all of her time making sure he was comfortable, cooking for him and making sure he had everything he needed. He hadn't been taken care of like this since he was a child. He had a sudden memory of his Mom which caused a pang of grief. He hadn't even considered the fact that he was an orphan now. He cleared his throat, trying to push the thought from his mind. "Is it time for another pain killer yet?"

"Of course. I'm happy to. I'm just happy that…. you're here, Steve." She murmured. The clock read 8:30. She counted on her fingers how many hours it'd been since his last pill – around midnight. "I can't give you another oxy yet, it hasn't been long enough. But we can do some herbs, yeah? And I'll get you ice for your ribs."

He sighed softly but nodded. No use in arguing – Claire was quite stubborn and he knew it wouldn't be worth the energy. He watched Claire lean over the supply box, admiring her shapely legs as she did so. She glanced over at him and he tore his eyes away, feeling a light brush creep across his cheek bones.

"Mixed?" She held up the baggie, waiting for his confirmation.

"Please." He cleared his throat, trying in vain to smooth his hair down. She laid the medicine on the side table before heading to refill his glass.

"Ice water?"

"Juice?" He smiled softly. He hated being picky, but he was hoping for something a little bit tastier than plain water.

Claire returned from the kitchen with a glass full of orange juice. He could hear the familiar sounds of a coffee pot percolating from the kitchen.

"Does that mean you're hungry too?" She asked, opening the baggie for him and handing it to him.

Steve dumped the contents of the bag into his mouth, washing all of it down with a big swig of orange juice. He grimaced slightly, the almost sour, acidic taste mixing with the bitter, earthy taste of the herb as he swallowed.

"Gross." He murmured.

She chuckled. "So….breakfast?"

-x-

Rebecca came through the front door with little warning, carefully balancing bags of supplies on her arms. She'd brought some more medical supplies – over the counter pain killer, bandages and gauze for wounds, a fresh IV bag, as well as some clean wash cloths and a tub at Claire's request – as well as some other various things Claire had requested.

"Hey, Steve. How are you feeling?" Rebecca smiled, pausing by the side of his bed. She was very glad to see him alert and awake. "How's the pain level today?"

"I feel….alright." His body ached but that was to be expected. Claire had been keeping him as comfortable as possible with some of the best home cooked food he'd had in years, a steady stream of medication and company. He honestly couldn't complain. "I want a shower, though."

Rebecca smiled, holding up the plastic tub. "That's what this is for. Should help until you're feeling well enough for a proper shower. I'm going to put this stuff away and I'll be back okay?"

He found himself very excited at the prospect of a sponge bath – not only because it would be nice to be touched all over, especially by Claire – but because he was caked in enough grime, sweat and whatever else that the idea of being clean for the first time in god knows how long sounded divine.

Rebecca busied herself with putting everything away – some medical supplies were left in the living room for quick access and others that were tucked under the bathroom sink for later. She left the supplies for the sponge bath on the edge of the sink. Lastly, she restocked the herbs for the pair of them.

The medic took Claire's usual seat, pulling the chair closer to the younger boy. She pulled a small vial from her hip pack, sticking a needle through the top and filling it part way.

"What's that?" Claire asked, folding her arms over her chest. She trusted Rebecca entirely, but still felt compelled to ask.

"Oh, antibiotics." She smiled, using the already placed IV needle to deliver the medicine. "Ciprofloxacin, to be exact. Mostly just a precaution to prevent any sort of infection. I have a course of antibiotics for you too, Claire."

She swallowed hard at the thought of having to have an injection. She had never been a fan of needles and all of this Umbrella nonsense made her feel extra uncomfortable.

Rebecca gave a short giggle at the look on Claire's face, drawing the needle away and turning her attention to Claire. "It's a pill. Steve needs much more aggressive treatment because his wounds are worse and required more intensive treatment." She disposed of the needle in a small sharps container, turning her attention to the Redfield. "I didn't forget about you, Claire. You're next. I just need to check his vitals and check on hi stitches."

Claire hesitated, glancing to Steve. "Yeah, can we….. privately?"

-x-

"Do you mind if I check your vitals, Claire?" Rebecca switched on the overhead light for extra visibility, sitting on the edge of the mattress Claire was currently calling her own. Her stethoscope hung loosely around her neck.

Claire was a bit apprehensive – she wanted to ask the medic about the nightmares, but she was also terrified of the answer. What if she was broken? What if this was something she had to deal with for the rest of her life.

"Claire?" Rebecca repeated, touching her shoulder lightly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She blurted out immediately, but fell silent for a moment as she reconsidered. "…I don't know. I'm….anxious. All the time. I'm having nightmares. I…dreamed that he turned, last night. It felt so real." She stared at the floor, not wanting to meet Rebecca's gaze.

Rebecca pressed the cool metal end of the stethoscope to Claire's back, listening to her as she spoke. "Deep breath, please."

Claire did as instructed, taking in a deep breath and holding it for a moment until Rebecca instructed her to breathe out. "…it's just like, I'm scared to leave him alone." She murmured. "Like, if I leave the room for more than fifteen minutes, he's just…. He won't be there anymore."

"Your lungs sound great." Rebecca smiled softly, moving around to the front. She pressed the metal against Claire's chest, listening to her heart beat. Her heart beat was elevated, but that was to be expected. "Heart sounds good too. A little quick, but that will even out." She pulled the ear tips from her ears and let the device rest around her neck again. "Claire, nightmares and anxiety are normal. It sucks, but it's completely normal." She smiled reassuringly.

"Normal?" Claire frowned. She felt both relieved and annoyed. She wondered if Leon or Chris had nightmares like this.

"Absolutely. Claire, what your brother and I have been through, what you and Steve have been through…. It's traumatic. I had to prescribe Jill trazodone to get her to sleep. Is that something you're interested in trying?" She asked, gently touching one of Claire's half-healed wounds with her gloved finger to check for infection. She frowned lightly. "….I want you to start the antibiotics tonight, okay?"

"Okay. Trazodone?" She asked, wincing lightly as Rebecca poked and prodded her various wounds.

"It's a sleeping pill usually prescribed for insomnia and post-traumatic stress disorder." Rebecca hummed lightly, tracing her fingers along a particularly nasty cut on her shoulder. It was already healing but it would likely leave a nasty scar. "Claire, some of these are bad. I wish you would have let me know you were hurt."

"PTSD?" Claire furrowed her brow. That was usually reserved for people that had been through war, right? People who had been on the front lines, killing people, not … monsters that used to be people.

"I'm not a psychiatrist. I have a degree in Chemistry. But…. I would highly recommend looking into therapy and mental health when you are able….. for now, I'm going to give you some medication for anxiety and sleep, as well as the antibiotics…. You have got to make sure you keep these wounds clean. They're already likely going to scar."

"I know." She sighed. She'd gotten pretty good at making sure her wounds didn't get infected, but she had a few from Raccoon City that had already left permanent marks on her body. "I made sure they were clean and I put ointment on them before bed."

"Good girl." Rebecca peeled the gloves off, tossing them into the small trash can beside the bed. "I need you to keep an eye on them. You're doing a great job taking care of Steve, but you need to make sure that you're taking care of yourself too. You have me and your brother to help."

"Okay." She smiled weakly, pulling her t-shirt back over her head.

"I mean it, Claire." Rebecca gave her a look as she dug in her hip pack. She handed her a piece of cardboard with five pills attached. "Two with dinner, one every day after that for the following four days. With food. Yes?"

"Okay." Claire flipped the package of antibiotics in her hand, examining it.

Rebecca shoved an orange pill bottle into her hands next. "This is trazodone… one pill at bedtime. There's enough for a few nights. You can also give it to Steve if he's having trouble sleeping. I wouldn't mix it with the Oxy, though." She added the last part after a moment. She pulled a small, plastic baggie out filled with small, blue pills. "This is alprazolam, anti-anxiety. These are one milligram a piece. I highly recommend splitting them in half or even in quarters if needed. Do not mix these with alcohol or other medication, understood?"

Claire nodded, setting all of the medications on the bedside table. "Yeah. Thanks, Rebecca."

"No big deal." She flashed a smile and gave a thumbs up. "It's what I do."

Claire saw the medic out, thanking her one last time for the extra supplies and the examination. She felt a bit more at ease with the options of medication. She was very thankful for Rebecca having been through a situation similar.

She was incredibly thankful for the support system in place. 'Zombies' and 'bio organic weapons', thanks to Umbrella's extensive cover-ups since the initial Spencer Mansion Incident, were still just make believe to most of the population. She wouldn't have been able to walk into any hospital or clinic with her injuries, claiming she'd been attacked by monsters without being involuntarily committed.

After a moment to gather her thoughts and re-center herself, she was ready to take on the rest of the day. She returned to the edge of Steve's bed, clapping her hands together. "Are you ready for that sponge bath?"