This story I wasn't sure what to do with, since it is not DMC related, but I can't just post it as random in the RE section. So if it violates anything I will definitely pull it.

Basically I played a LOT of RE5, which is what inspired the story "Old Times". But really, I'm a softy for the "Creva" pairing and eventually the following happened. I'm not ruling out the idea of continuing this at all, so if you like it, let me know and we'll see if I can't continue it once I get my current stories finished.

Obviously there is to be RE5 spoilers in here, so if you are allergic please refrain from moving beyond the author note. :)

One... two... three...

Sleep.

A moment of silence, followed by a deeply frustrated sigh, was a sure indicator that this wasn't going to work. Who had come up with this ridiculous idea of counting yourself to sleep?

Chris Redfield opened his eyes tiredly before sitting up in his bed. He glanced towards the clock which didn't make anything easier since it refused to move past 12:46 am. Even though he was damn sure he'd been laying there forever.

His bedroom window was open to try and stifle the hot summer evening and lack of an air conditioner. On occasion he had felt a small feather of wind against his sweaty back, but the repose was brief and unsatisfying.

Like most things now, he thought with a grimace.

Chris scrubbed his hand across the stubble on his chin, knowing all too well he should've shaved, but hadn't felt the slightest bit interested lately. Hell, he didn't feel like doing much of anything lately.

He tried to count the amount of time spent over the years fighting for this life. For the very air he was breathing, to even be alive and well here in his own bed. He had faced countless horrors and lost so much for this very moment... Yet he was restless.

Throwing off the sheet that clung to his thighs, he turned to set his feet on the cool wooden floor. He stared out the window and listened to the sounds of life just outside. The occasional car passing, sirens in the distance and some other indiscernible ones he didn't try to figure out.

Umbrella was gone now, along with Wesker and Tricell. He had always wondered what would happen if his old Captain would truly be erased from this world. It was a scary thought considering he had built his life around stopping him and anything he managed to poison with his influence.

Albert Wesker was his demon. Albert Wesker was now dead.

So why did he feel like it wasn't over? Because it never is.

He took another deep sigh, filling his chest to expanse before exhaling.

Jill was still recovering from her post traumatic stress, compliments of what Wesker had forced her to endure. Through it all, Chris had been by her side as much as time permitted to help her through the process. Slowly he had seen his old partner emerging. Another thing to be happy for.

But always his mind wandered elsewhere. Somewhere. Someone.

You fucked up big time...

Bingo.

Yes; his restlessness sprang from a lot of things. Regret and shame to name a few. All though beginning and ending with Sheva Alomar.

Chris felt himself wince at the thought of her. The last moments spent together made his stomach fall out and that sense of humiliation come flooding back as if it were happening anew.

After a short time under medical care to make sure all three were okay, Sheva and he were released. Jill needed additional time for the wound left behind from the ordeal with Wesker. The last remnant of his evil forever scarred her body and her soul.

They were not immediately reassigned and so Chris took a little time off. In those days he had gotten to know Sheva properly, rather than the rushed introduction and need to know conversations in the midst of danger. She had been so serious, as was expected given the circumstances, but once clear of danger she was, well, charming.

Chris had always buried himself in his work and had never made friends outside of the few good men and women he'd met along the way. Sheva though was quick to pull him out of that and went so far as to take him drinking. Luckily both of them knew their own tolerance and avoided getting drunk. But hearing about her life and actually being able to tell someone about his was kind of nice. Even to have someone steer him away from talking about work, a bad habit of his, by making him take a shot every time he did.

And he would be lying if he did not notice that her civi clothes added to her... charms.

Not to mention she'd hustled him shamelessly at Pool.

As the night had worn on he was intoxicated by her quick laughter, the warm scent that came from her dark skin and the way it shone under lamps hanging overhead in the outdoor bar. With Jill it was always a friendship and nothing more. He had wanted more from Sheva when she'd asked his clumsy ass to dance and pressed her soft body against his.

He was 35 years old for fuck sake and acting like an inexperienced nerd dancing for his first time with the prom queen. She had only smiled as she curled her fingers at the nape of his neck making him want to surrender all his Star Wars memorabilia to her. There were some forces much more powerful than the Force and he had been holding one of them in his arms.

It wasn't readily apparent when the moment slipped from relaxed friendliness to something more. He had suggested they call it a night more out of concern that sooner or later she would physically feel what he was mentally denying. Reminding himself that she was only 23 seemed to help, along with the mantra of 'She's your partner, nothing more'.

When he had walked her back to the hotel they had both been staying at at the time though he had been surprised when she'd asked him inside. She'd lain her hand on his chest and given him a smile that a blind man could see as inviting. He had wanted to accept with every inch of his... being. Before he could even give it decent thought he had declined the offer to his stupefied amazement. Almost said the words before he could register them.

Why?

He'd asked himself that so many times over the past year. Especially when her breathtaking look of flirtation was quickly replaced by, what he now guessed, was shame and anger. Goodbyes were exchanged and she literally shut the door on him; leaving him standing with his mouth wide open.

Two days later she got her new orders and left without a word. When he did manage to catch her before then she could barely meet his eyes and little was exchanged between them. So she had been the lingering guilt beating the back of his skull whenever he found a free moment.

The nights were much worse, because when he wasn't seeing her face turning hard from his rejection, he was thinking about what if. If he had said yes...

Two things could've happened. He could've slept with her and possibly have come out unscathed with a witty, beautiful woman he would be proud to take home to Claire. Or they could've slept together and have had the same outcome with neither able to look at one another the same again. He didn't know if that would've been the more humiliating alternative to what actually happened.

Chris leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes.

No. He liked to think of her in his bed on a hot night and the scent her moist skin would give off. How she would laugh when teased or touched and what it would be like to just lose himself for one night in her warmth. To hear his name coming from her soft lips...

Bang, Bang, Bang!

Chris' eyes shot open when he heard a sudden banging on his front door. He leapt to his feet and out of habit went for the gun he kept in the bedside drawer.

Slowly he made his way to the front door, putting his eye up to the peephole to see who it was. All he could see was a baseball cap that had B.S.S.A. stitched in the front. Not letting his guard down too much he unlatched the door and opened it.

"Who is it?" He asked as he peered out into the hallway.

"Chris Redfield?"

"Yes?" Chris responded cautiously. As the man made eye contact Chris could see he had a gruff look to him, almost as unshaven as Chris but definitely older. The skin around his eyes was wrinkled a bit and rough, worn looking, yet tanned. His brown eyes were hard though which added to the intimidating vibe Chris was beginning to get from him. Didn't help he kept frowning down at Chris' boxers, which had been a gag gift from Claire, showing several zombies.

"Suit up and be ready to leave within 10 minutes. No need to pack anything," the man replied as he began looking around the hallway.

"But-"

"Later," he said, cutting Chris off.

"Not a chance pal. Show me some proper ID or I'm not going anywhere." Chris said stubbornly.

This request actually earned him a small smile, which looked like a feat on the man's part.

"Smart boy," the elder man replied, instantly rubbing Chris the wrong way. He hadn't been a boy in 23 years. He pulled from his jacket an official B.S.S.A. issued identification card, which Chris took to examine. "Name's Burkhard, but we can commence with the formalities later."

Chris eyed the card, looking for the full name when the card was yanked from his hand.

"Satisfied? Get a move on." Burkhard said tucking the ID away. At that moment a few more people came walking down the hall. To Chris' surprise among them was...

"Claire?" Chris asked as his sister practically jumped on him.

"Chris!" She cried in a tone of definite relief. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

Chris patted her on the back uncomfortably and wondered what the hell she was talking about. His eyes lifted towards Burkhard who kept looking down the hall anxiously.

Claire pulled back and pushed him into his apartment before he had a chance to question. She even gave an airy wave as she closed the door when Burkhard went to argue.

"Give us a minute, okay?" She ordered, more than asked, before shutting the door. When she turned she pushed Chris further in. "Go get dressed."

"What's going on?" He pressed. Claire only crossed her arms and said no more. So Chris huffed and headed back to pull on some clothes, swearing he heard her compliment him on his boxers.

Once in a pair of jeans and a shirt he padded back to find Claire raiding his fridge. On the counter was assorted things for making sandwiches.

"Claire. What are you doing?"

"Packing. The food is terrible and I won't go one more day without a PB&J sandwich," she replied pointedly as she began smoothing peanut butter over a piece of bread. "Want one?"

Chris frowned and walked towards the counter, sitting on the side next to the counter top she was using.

"I don't want food. I want an explanation." Chris replied eyeing her. "What are you doing here? Hell... Why were you looking as if you might find me dead on my doorstep?"

Claire slowed her pace a bit and gave her brother a side long glance.

"Sorry about that. I can't tell you much, since what just happened pretty much happened to me. One minute I'm kicking ass in Grand Theft Auto, and next thing old Burk is banging on my door telling me to pack up." Claire replied before putting her two pieces of bread together and taking a bite. Her eyes rolled back like she was in heaven and Chris couldn't help but grin. "Gof... dis ib heaben." she managed with a mouth full of peanut butter and jelly.

"You don't know anything else?" Chris asked seriously, once she had managed to gulp down milk straight from the carton.

"In terms of what the hell we're doing here? Only that it's serious and we are not being called out on assignment. Burk out there, well he is a top ranking officer within the B.S.S.A., or was. He's retired from what I could get. Yet he has been assigned to accompany us to headquarters. If you ask me I think he and the others are protection."

"Protection? Like, bodyguards?" Chris asked.

"Which is why I was so freaked when I first saw you. There is no telling what you could be getting yourself and me dragged into. You have a knack for it, ya know?" Claire responded, no doubt trying to ease the look from his face.

Yes. Chris did have a knack for getting in trouble, while Claire had a knack for chasing after him and further entangling her in the messes he made. One thing that was clear to him was that if this was protective detail he was dealing with, there were far too many people Chris had pissed off over the years to narrow it down to one. Making Burkhard's decision to get Claire a good one, since she had proved to be one of his greatest weaknesses time and time again.

Chris put an arm around his sister to her surprise and thanked his lucky stars that she was with him. Seemed he was always finding her in the hands of someone else with her life in danger. It was nice to know she was under his protection no matter where it was they were going.

"You big sissy," she said rolling her eyes, but turning towards him with a laugh. "I can take care of myself you know."

"Can't you ever just be a little sister?"

"Can't you ever not be an older brother?" Claire shot back with a smirk before biting off another big piece of her sandwich.

"Fine, fine. So what do you know about Burkhard, aside from him being retired?" Chris asked, letting her go and hopping down off the counter.

"That is pretty much it. Oh... and don't ask him about his first name." Claire added attempting to stifle a laugh. "Just call him Burk, or Burkhard and you'll be fine."

"Why? What's his first name?"

"Herbert." Claire said before chuckling. "He's kinda sensitive about it. Gave me the silent treatment the whole way here because I kinda, sorta, said his name was funny."

"Good to know."