She saw his face for just a moment before it faded into nothingness. He was gone; the connection they had disappeared despite her efforts to find it again. She reached out for him, and called his name, but she received no answer. She was alone. Darkness consumed her, and all she could hear was her own breathing. There was a presence beside her, but she could not see anything. A hand reached out to her, and her fingers were intertwined with another's. "Claire..." said a voice. The contact broke the dream she was experiencing, and she felt her eyelids automatically open. There was a white ceiling above her, and the walls were tinged with a lavender color. She blinked several times, trying to adjust to the sunlight that filled the room.
The fingers around her hand tightened, and she heard a deep soothing voice. "How are you feeling?" It was Leon. It was then that she knew, there was no other face she would have wanted to see when she awoke from a bad dream.
His handsome face came into view, and she had never been more relieved to see him, alive and well. He brushed her bangs from her eyes, and leaned closer to her, bringing her fingers to his chin. "You've been out of it for some time now," he said. "At first... I was sure you weren't going to make it." She could see the worry on his face, his brow had creased, and his eyes were closed.
"Leon," she croaked out. Her throat was dry, but thankfully, he handed her a cup of water that was already waiting for her. "How long?" she asked after gulping down the entire cup. She picked herself up, and leaned against the headboard, but she never broke contact with Leon. The bed was soft and her pillow was quite fluffy. All of the small knicknacks she saw on the floor confirmed that she was back in her own bedroom.
"Four days," he said, looking at her. "You weren't receptive at all in the helicopter. You weren't breathing, and I couldn't find a pulse. There was so much of your blood all over, and I thought the worst." His voice broke, but he cleared his throat to cover it. "Wesker shot you with God's knows what, and we all thought you were dead. It was an injury unlike any I've ever seen. But when we managed to land in Battle Mountain Airport, Becca took over and found a heartbeat. So you've been under her care for the last few days."
Claire's gaze softened. She couldn't imagine how the team must have felt, especially Chris. Leon looked like he hadn't slept in days, and the chair and blanket by her bed told her he didn't leave her side often. She placed her other hand on his arm, and gave him a reassuring squeeze. He truly meant what he had said back at the hangar. He never left her. "What happened with the tyrant? Was there any sign of Wesker?" she just had to ask. If she was able to, she wanted to know.
Leon shook his head. "It actually happened quickly."
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"Chris!" Leon shouted, after he had started CPR on Claire. He pushed down on her chest in intervals of three. "Chris! She's not breathing! Jesus!" Leon bent down again, blowing into her unmoving mouth. The blood kept pouring from the wound in the back of her neck. Half of him began to lose hope when he noticed the color of her blood; it was jet black. How much of Claire was left? He willed himself to linger on the positive. She was still Claire; she begged him to leave so that his death wouldn't be on her conscience. That was human. The woman that lay before him was still his Claire.
Jill was trying her best to keep the hole closed, but no matter how many patches of gauze she used, the blood seeped right through, showing no signs of stopping. "My God, Claire..." Jill stammered. Her hands were shaking as she replaced the blood soaked towels and used her own jacket and pressed against the injury. "Hang in there, girl." Tears were running down Jill's face, but she was far from breaking down.
"Claire!" Chris called over his shoulder. "Don't you dare die on me! You hear me!"
Leon continued CPR, checking every few seconds for a pulse. A wave of panic washed over him when he couldn't locate one at all. There was so much he wanted to say to her. He cursed himself for being a coward, for wasting all of the moments that were given to him when he was with her. Why did he wait this long? For years he had kept his feelings bottled up, and not once had he acted upon them.
The helicopter thrashed around violently, throwing him off his balance. The heat of the explosion washed over him, and he bent over Claire to protect her. When the turbulence lessened, he looked down at the destruction of the mansion below them. The mushroom cloud reminded him of Raccoon City. There was no way that the tyrant could have survived that explosion. Even Wesker could not have survived; he had no time to evacuate. So good riddance.
He and Jill continued working on Claire, trying everything they could to bring life back into her body. All he could think about was his desire to see her eyes opening. To see her chest rise and fall, to see anything but the stillness that loomed over her body. He didn't know how much time went by before he was pulled back and gently pushed aside.
Becca and Billy had joined them, and the shorter redhead took over for him. Becca didn't ask any questions; she just jumped into medic mode and did everything she was trained to do. "Come on, Claire," Becca pleaded. She took out a syringe from her buttpack, and inserted the long needle into Claire's arm, injecting a clear liquid into the bloodstream. Becca placed her fingers on Claire's neck, keeping absolutely still. "Come on... come on!" she hissed, looking at her watch.
"How is she?" Chris called again in panic.
But Becca didn't answer him. She was still searching for some sign of life. After another minute, the smaller woman breathed out a sigh of relief. "I have something!" she said with a victorious smile. "I've got a pulse!" Becca bent down to check the wound on Claire neck. When she stood up again, she gave Jill and Leon a confused look. "I don't see anything... where did all this blood come from?"
"That's impossible," Leon said, but when he checked the wound, he realized Becca was right. He wiped away the blood from her neck, feeling only smooth skin. The gaping hole that he had seen only minutes before was completely healed. Seeing that there was no immediate danger to her physical body, Leon lifted Claire's head let the back of her head rest on his lap. "I don't think there will ever be another time where I'm thankful for that damn virus," he said in a low voice.
For the rest of the flight home, no one said a thing, but he was sure that they all agreed with him.
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Claire listened silently as Leon recapped all of the events for her. There were times where he had instinctively tightened his grip around her fingers. It was unlike Leon to show so much emotion . Over the years, Leon had turned from a spontaneous reckless cop to a very cool level headed thinker that only acted when necessary. He cared for her deeply, that much was obvious. Whether or not Wesker cared for her, she had no way of knowing.
She was likely a commodity to Wesker, an item of value. But there were times that she didn't think he was capable of being so giving or gentle. It was like he was human again when he was with her. When she was first living at the mansion, her feelings and emotions were at their strongest. The more time she spent with Wesker, the human side of her faded, yet it seemed like he picked up where she left off. The more she thought about it, the more she pitied Wesker.
Their relationship, if it could even be called that, was confusing at best, but what she had with Wesker was quite strong. The more time they had spent together, the more it seemed that they swapped personalities... She blinked. An epiphany hit her suddenly. Wesker had mentioned that he didn't predict the repercussions about sharing essentially the same virus, and he also admitted that being close to her physically had an effect on him. What if... what if they really did swap personalities?
Since she was infected, she expected to be aggressive and violent, almost malicious. But surprisingly, she had kept most of her humanity,and it wasn't only until Wesker made an appearance that she began to change. He was cold and unfeeling... until he spent time with her. The gestures, the caresses, the nights they spent together were all acts of a human. Perhaps, he was taking after her the way she was to him. Her heart had become hard, and no longer welcomed her humanity. But Wesker changed too, and he hid it from her. If her assumptions were right, then he most likely became vulnerable, and he was open to emotion. Every time she had said she didn't love him, his lips would press together in a thin line. Did he feel something for her, and expected a different answer? She pitied him even more.
Here was a man that had not felt a shred of emotion for most of his life, and then the moment he was forced to open up, he was paired with someone who was unable to reciprocate. If Wesker did survive, would he be a different person? Would the time they spent together have changed any part of him? She could never know... Now that they were no longer together, and they could not "feed" off of the other's influence, his heart may have hardened again, and the last few weeks may not have meant anything. If he were alive...
Leon's fingers stroked her cheek, and she looked at him with watery eyes. "Why are you crying, Claire?" he asked softly.
"Crying?" she repeated. She brought her hands up to her face and felt the wet moisture on her cheeks and chin. "Oh my God..."
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