Yuuuuup. I've already screwed up for NaNoWriMo XD but hey, you lovely lot get another chapter, right? So we all win in the end!

Once again, I was tired when I finished this...

Dialogue uuuuuuugh. Why do I do this to myself?!

Claire filtered through the morning rush hour, narrowly avoiding taking out wing mirrors and bumpers, and she was heavily falling victim to the angry fist shakes and muddy profanities of impatient drivers. These drivers had neglected to avoid the disastrous combination of roadworks and a three vehicle collision on the same stretch of road. However, she was just as ignorant; she had initially gone in her car, but had she paid attention to the news as she pulled her red jacket on and snatched up her car keys back at the house, she would have chosen her bike the first time around rather than immediately finding stop/start traffic only a few blocks from home. She wasn't spending her day sitting in traffic, she had far more important shit to attend to.

She pulled up at the lights just in front of a pickup, and flicked her eyes to her rear view mirrors. This jackass in the pickup had been goading her for several blocks now after she overtook him (in a completely legal manner), he had overtaken her dangerously close, lashing a hand out at her, and now he was slowly edging closer to her rear wheel, mouthing words she couldn't hear over the beautiful growl of her Harley Davidson. Touch my bike and I'll fucking break you, she thought. She wasn't in the mood for altercations with grumpy drivers. She involuntarily lurched forward over the red engine case, not painfully so, but enough that she immediately registered what had just happened.

"Mother FUCKER!" came her muffled voice of rage inside her helmet.

She knocked her kickstand down, twisted her leg over and spun to face the pickup. Not in the mood for altercations? She flipped her helmet visor up and simply glared at the driver, waiting for his response. She knew it was a dumb thing to do, to rise up to it, but NOBODY fucking touches her bike. The driver leant out of his window and shouted at her again, yet she still couldn't hear him through the helmet padding or her bike's snarl. For the better, she thought. She got back on her bike just as the lights were changing, but the driver didn't give her a second to move off, and spat at her as he sped past. Thankfully, it missed her completely and landed on the asphalt.

Fuck this guy.

Claire twisted the throttle and caught up to him a block later. Without any thought she lifted her left hand from the handle, and punched his wing mirror off, sending it careering under his truck and it crushed under the wheels in a spray of plastic and glass. She twisted the throttle once more, and left the screaming driver behind.

Fuck this guy.

Claire pulled into the hospital driveway and wondered how the actual fuck she was going to find somewhere to leave her bike. Of course, it would be a normal parking bay, but had she left her chains and locks under the seat? There was only one way to find out, right? She glanced at the large flood lights for the parking lot, checking for security cameras as she circled around. Good. There was an empty spot in full view of a camera, just over to her right, all of the trees lining the lot were along the roadside, not this side. If she didn't have her gear and some bastard took the bike, then at least there was video evidence. She pulled up, cut the engine, lowered the kickstand and climbed off once again. She flipped the seat up, and quietly thanked herself that she had in fact left her locks and chains in there.

She pulled the gear out, but not before giving the rear wheel a once over, checking the pressure between her fingers and thumb. She'll check the wheel properly when she'll leave to go home.

After locking up both wheels securely she slid her helmet off and gave her hair a quick shake. Two years ago, after Neil Fisher's fucking betrayal, she had cut her hair. It was refreshing at the time, but it hadn't taken long for her to regret having it cut as short as she did. Chris was disappointed too. But you look so pretty with long hair, he would constantly say.

She turned her head towards the main entrance. Was Jill in the lobby? She scooped her helmet under her arm and pulled her phone from the inside pocket of her leathers. Yes. Jill was in the lobby, she had already sent her a text.

She began walking across the parking lot, her leathers squeaking sexily with each step, and she unzipped the jacket completely and peeled it away from her skin, allowing the summer morning air against her.

In the lobby she saw Jill Valentine pacing slowly, chewing her nails and staring into empty space, her blonde ponytail bouncing with each step. She didn't even notice that Claire was approaching her, not until she reached a hand to her shoulder.

Jill looked up at Claire and immediately pulled her into a warm embrace, but her expression of disquietude scared the Redfield woman.

"Jill? Is Chris OK? What happened?" Claire finally whispered into Jill's ear. Jill pulled away from her, her hands firmly on Claire's shoulders, and shook her head with a bitten lip.

"We...we don't know," Jill replied, "He was fine when he was picked up from the sea from an escape pod. He seemed ok even when he got back to base. But…"

Claire studied Jill's face carefully, waiting for her next words.

"But?"

"He...collapsed back at HQ. Just collapsed, no warning. He...seized. He had a seizure, Claire."

Claire's mouth hung open in horror. She couldn't imagine Chris so much as being stricken down with a sneezing episode, let alone a seizure.

"A seizure?! He's never had a seizure! Ever!"

"Babe, I'm sorry but it gets worse. He stopped breathing, and not only that, he went into cardiac arrest."

"Oh my God…" Claire gasped.

"It took the team nearly an hour to get him back again."

"An hour?! But is he ok now? Is he conscious?" Claire was aware that she had raised her voice in a hospital, but she wouldn't help her shocked outburst.

Jill lowered her eyes to the floor.

"He's in a coma. On life support. He's unable to breathe on his own."

"You're kidding…"

"I wish I was, Claire. But I'm not. I wanted to warn you before you saw him. I didn't want you to just walk in and see him the way he is now."

"But, collapsing and a seizure, and...cardiac arrest...what the fuck happened to him, Jill?"

"Again, we don't know. He seemed fine. The doctors suspect maybe a head injury in China, or even a very delayed head injury from Edonia. They wanted to run some tests on him, like MRIs, but he's too ill to be moved from the room."

Claire gulped, and slowly uttered her next words, as if she wanted Jill to be sure of precisely what she said.

"Can I see him?"

"Oh babe of course you can. But, please, just know that he is very ill, and how he looks will likely be a shock to the system. Be prepared for that."

Claire sniffed once, and nodded at her. Jill returned the nod, and led Claire by the hand, far into the bowels of the sterile hospital, down meandering corridors, until finally reaching ICU. They had passed many nurses walking briskly from room to room, many porters pushing patients to various appointments, and Claire wondered if Chris would be one of those patients in the near future.

They stopped at a door and Claire only then realised how clammy her hand had become as Jill let go, and she fretted that Jill had noticed. If she did, she didn't mention it, and she turned to face Claire, taking her biker's jacket and helmet from her.

"Take some deep breaths, you're going to need them. Are you ready?"

Claire nodded, but very quickly creased her face and mumbled a "no". She had already constructed images in her mind of how Chris would look, and the whole aspect of it all fucking terrified her right down to her soul. Jill saw this fear creep onto her face, and gave her another hug.

"Be brave, Claire. You've got this. He wants you here. It's been a long time since you last saw each other, remember? He wants you here with him." Jill reassured her. Claire fought to fight back the tears. She hadn't even fucking seen him yet and she was already crying, and she hated herself for it.

They entered the small room, and as much as Claire wanted to initially avoid looking at him, she couldn't stop her eyes from betraying her, and she glanced straight at her brother. A lump of disbelief and grief-stricken awe bundled up in her throat and she slowly raised a shaky hand to her mouth.

He had more cannulas in his hands and arms than she could have ever thought possible, each one of them leading to various medicine machines. A huge machine sat on the other side of his bed; the ventilator, with its uncomfortably sized tube roping past Chris' ear, into his mouth and down his throat. His closed eyes were sunken into his skull, his sallow skin almost taught over his cheekbones, his lips a very faint shade of blue.

His overall frame was how Claire remembered it to be before his disappearance; built, muscular...huggable, but that was the only thing she could recognise about him. Jill had said it had been a long time, of course it had been, she last saw him last year, but Claire fought furiously against herself, wanting to recognise him as her big brother but at the same time refusing to acknowledge that he, of all people, was reduced to...this!

"The nurse in charge of his care, Emma, has said that only his right arm can be touched, so if you want to touch him, then you know you can, but that's all we're allowed to do for physical contact." Jill broke the deathly silence gently.

Claire walked around to his right and placed her palm against his skin. Cold...oh God he felt so cold! Chris radiated heat like the fucking Sun, how was he cold?! She caressed his skin with her fingertips, and looked over at his motionless face.

"I'm here, Chris." It was all she could manage to say before she choked on that lump. She began rubbing her thumb roughly on his arm as her emotions proved victorious over her, and she leant forward to place her head on the bed edge. She felt Jill place a hand on her back.

"He knows you're here, Claire. I'm sure he can hear you. And I'm sure your voice will help him wake up. You're his little sister, after all, everyone knows how much he adores you."

Claire let out a weak chuckle.

"Oh God, Jill, don't bet on it."

"I'm serious, Claire. You have no idea how much he's put you on a pedestal over the years. He loves you so much, more than he's probably ever admitted to you. You're his world, and he needs you now, more than ever. If anyone can help him, it's you."

"I can't do shit for him, that's the job of the doctors, not me." Claire spat through her tears.

"Oh Claire, come on. You know what I meant. He needs you, and I don't want you telling me otherwise." Jill chided her, playfully flicking Claire's hair with her hand.

The door opened at that moment and a slim, blonde nurse, perhaps a similar age to Claire, walked in holding a file. She gently closed the door behind her, and Jill spoke up.

"Emma, this is Claire Redfield, she's Chris' little sister. I gave her the rundown of what happened to him." Jill waved a hand loosely at Claire, who quickly sat up away from the bed, her hand still on Chris' arm.

"Nice to meet you, Ms Redfield. I'm in charge of your brother's care. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask, and I'll be as honest or as truthful as I can be." Emma stated, placing her glasses on her nose.

"How bad is Chris, really?" Claire immediately quizzed. No need for pleasantries, she wanted to know, she NEEDED to know. Emma skimmed over the file before removing her glasses.

"I'm afraid he's in a very bad way. Due to his condition we're not able to fully establish the cause of his seizure, or his cardiac arrest. We're suspecting a head injury, and if this is the case then it could be incredibly bad news. I'm not going to sugarcoat anything. If he does wake up, it's a high possibility that he may be brain damaged. To what extent, we'll have to find out. This is due to how long it took to get his heart beating again, and we just don't know how deprived of oxygen his brain was." Emma explained, her face stony. Claire could tell that she had been in situations like this before.

"So, you won't even know how little or much he'll be brain damaged?"

"I'm afraid not. He may have gotten very lucky and escaped any damage, or it could be as bad as him being completely brain dead. This is the next step for us. Are you his next of kin?"

"I am, yes."

"In that case, with your permission, my colleagues can do a series of special tests to indicate if he has brain activity, or if he is brain dead. But first we would need to observe his condition to make sure there's nothing underlying that could impede the tests."

Claire didn't know if she was ready to be told that Chris likely could already be dead, and that machines were only giving the hopeful illusion that he was going to be fine in the end.

"When will the tests be done?" Claire asked. Emma pulled the chair from under her patient room desk and sat down.

"We will be giving him some time to see if his condition improves, maybe a week or so. Unfortunately, as it stands," Emma gestured to the board at the end of the hospital bed, "We have had to put him down as 'DNR'."

Claire stared at her, her lips parted. She wasn't stupid. She knew what that meant.

"Do not resuscitate?" They cut painfully at her as she said it. Claire didn't know why she wanted to elaborate on the meaning, but she was hinting at a possible explanation for this decision. Emma hummed in response.

"If his heart was to stop now, we don't think he would be strong enough for us to get it going again. That is why that decision has been made."

Claire looked at her brother's still face. How can a man of his stature, of his caliber, be literally toeing the threshold at Death's door? How did he get from the huge man-bear of a brother to this? He's a fighter, a soldier, a hero. How? She thought about a few days ago when she was told of his amnesia and alcoholism. Was this all a delayed reaction to it? Had he accidently caused this himself during his disappearance. She grimaced at the thought that Chris could've been capable of causing so much damage to himself. She thought about how she had wanted to pass a message on to Piers Nivans. Tell Piers to look after him, is what she had said.

"Jill? Where's Piers Nivans?" Claire asked, her eyes still fixed fervently on her brother's face.

Jill shuffled in the seat she had now taken, and pulled at her hair.

"Before Chris collapsed, he said Piers had injected himself with the C-Virus, and as they were trying to make their way out, Piers shoved him into the escape pod and stayed behind at the Neo Umbrella facility. He's dead, Claire. He died saving Chris."

Tell Piers to look after him. And he had done so. He had saved Chris so he could come back to her.

"Thank you, Jill."

The room lay in silence for some time, no one able to find words to say, only the consistent beeping of the heart monitor or the hiss of the ventilator could make Claire slowly come to think of this very real situation.

Chris was nearly dead. This was real. This was a real, unforgiving nightmare. A nightmare that potentially could become far, far worse and there was no waking up from it. She turned her red, puffy eyes to Jill and Emma.

"Am I allowed some time alone with him?" she whispered. Jill immediately stood up and placed her hands on Claire's shoulders.

"We're all here for you, no matter what happens."

Emma also stood up from her desk.

"I can't be gone long, for clear reasons, but I can give you a few minutes with him. I'll be just outside here at the nurse's desk if you need anything." With that, both women left Claire alone with Chris.

Now that she was free to say as she pleased, she still didn't. Not because she didn't want to, but because she simply couldn't think of anything to say to him. Finally, after much deliberation, she spoke to him softly.

"Please, Chris. Come back to me. How am I supposed to work out how to live without you? I've only ever known that. Come on, big bro. How can someone like you let this kick your ass?"

She glanced at the various monitors and machines, hoping maybe SOMETHING would show that he was listening, but he remained absolutely motionless. She continued to sit alone, stroking at the hairs on his arm, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Claire sat down with Emma in Chris' hospital room with two senior doctors, and she fucking hated that Jill couldn't make it today. Jill had hated it too. This is the moment Claire was afraid of. She felt sick to the stomach, so much more than she had done since last year. She rubbed her thumbs together as the doctors prepared to talk.

"You watched us make all of the checks twice, Ms Redfield," one of the doctors piped up, "we can confidently confirm that Mr Redfield is NOT brain dead. He reacted to every single one of our tests. That is the good news."

Claire's heart lightened ever so slightly, ever so briefly, until that last sentence.

"What's the bad news?"

"He's in a serious but stable condition, but he is still very weak. He has made no improvements over the last two weeks at all. While he may still have some level of brain function, it's slowly beginning to look likely that he may never recover." The other doctor said.

"If that is the case, then all the life support equipment is doing is prolonging his death."

Claire shot a wide eyed look over to Chris.

"I know this isn't the news you wanted to hear. We will continue to monitor him for any improvement for a few more weeks. But if none happens, then the best thing that could be done for him is to let him pass away peacefully."

"No!" Claire burst out, and Emma and the doctors looked at her. She cleared her throat. "No. Please. Is there nothing that can be done?" The doctors looked at each other.

"We can only do so much to help him. We are almost at our limit of what we can do. We will monitor him and we will keep you updated on everything, but all we can say right now to you is prepare for the worst."

Prepare for the worst. Four words that Claire thought she would never have to hear. Not when it came to Chris Redfield.