Dear all, welcome to Family Portrait 3, the part we all have been waiting for. If you haven't read the first two parts, you'll feel a bit lost here. Just drop us a PM and we can give you a summary with all the important details, but we recommend that you read the whole thing. We want to say thanks for all the support, and we hope you enjoy this last part of the story. Have fun!

TRS

Postcards from Raccoon City

As I said, living with Chris wasn't as fun as I had expected at first. It was great to have him so close, and we did a lot of things together; we even went to see the place where our parents had died again, after ten years; but it didn't keep his habits of self-destruction from increasing, and his attitude made some of the nights uselessly long. Sometimes I returned to my old apartment only to sleep there. I had kept paying the rent for different reasons; you know which; but it became a place to run to when I couldn't find rest during Chris' periods of drinking and self-loathing. I used to tell him that I had to work late and that I'd stay in the office. I'm not proud of it. I mean, I was lying to the person I most loved in the world, but I think we both needed it. It gave him the chance to sleep in a normal, comfortable bed instead of the couch bed and I had some time to rest and be alone with my thoughts.

Did that change my feelings for him in any way? No. I still loved him, still wanted him and his presence, no matter how miserable, still made my heart flutter. I was absolutely certain at that point of this story.

It was true love.

Maybe we would still live together in that tiny apartment in New York City, if destiny hadn't wanted a certain police force to turn into the right street on a fateful Sunday night and uncover a web of child prostitution.

Yeah.

She had rushed to work as quickly as possible, regardless of traffic and speed and risking more than just her own life on her way, but when the elevator doors parted and granted her a wide glance into the entry hall of the TerraSave head offices, Claire knew it had been worth the reckless ride. The secretaries who had already arrived were busy answering the phones that melted into an orchestra of energetically violent ringing, all the doors to the adjacent offices were wide open and people stomped around in aimless turmoil. When Lindsay passed by only a foot from her, Claire grabbed the blonde's upper arm and launched her a questioning gaze.

"Claire! You heard the news?"

No, she hadn't. After another restless night waiting for Chris to fall asleep, and the emergency phone call early in the morning, she'd barely had time to shower and eat something before rushing to work. Being given a slow head shake, her friend blew out an exasperated breath.

"Long story short? Marshall has been caught in a whore house. With an underage girl!"

A gasp was the first reaction that found its way out.

"Underage?"

"Fourteen-year-old girl. Apparently a sex slave, victim of human trafficking."

"Oh my god. I knew that motherfucker had some creepy skeletons in his closet."

Tim Marshall, full-time hippie and self-declared prophet of the present days, was the last remaining founding member of TerraSave, after the other three had been either killed, arrested or knocked up by a republican leader whose initial goal was to get rid of the nosy NGO and their work. Tim had once been full of energy, the one member of TerraSave who had really wanted to make a change, back in 2004 when Claire had joined. But in the years of its existence, the organization had kept slipping out of his control, with major donors imposing their rules of violent attacks in exchange for their money, while Tim kept holding on to old schemes of protests and riots in front of headquarters of larger pharmaceutical companies. In Claire's opinion, neither was right. Terra Save needed to be more active, yes; providing resources for survivors, medicines for the ill and injured and a home for those who had lost everything; not fighting B.O.W.s or their creators. There was no need for them to become another B.S.A.A.

"He's been arrested, of course. The heads of all the departments are stuck in a meeting with the lawyers and a couple of major donors to see how to proceed from now on." Lindsay shook her head. "PR is saturated. And the phones don't stop ringing. I feel I know now what it feels like to be chased by zombies."

Claire laughed awkwardly at the blonde's comment.

"What chaos," was all she could reply before giving her friend an encouraging nod. "What can I do?"

Lindsay's look turned into an expression of gratitude and the two women walked past the crowd in the entry hall towards the row of ringing devices at the front desk.

"Donors want to know what has happened to their donation, the press is requesting interviews, and then there's still our people out there who have gotten wind of this whole shitshow and just want to know if they still have a job to do." The blonde's ability to summarize was remarkable. "The message is the same for all audiences: we are still investigating, but the problem is being taken care of. We're going to keep them updated."

Claire nodded. Sending out a message of control and tranquilization was the first lesson of crisis communication, and it had been painted to the walls of the PR department, where she had spent several months before changing to Operations, the faction of the NGO in charge of planning local interventions, helping survivors and providing resources. Though she felt much more useful in her current activity, she didn't mind lending her colleagues on the frontline against the media a hand, and she was quick grabbing the first ringing device in her reach.

"TerraSave. Claire Redfield speaking." Lindsay handed her a sheet of schedules, instructions and a list of mailing addresses which Claire identified as specially set up email accounts to which people could write to request updates. "I understand your concerns about your donation, Sir. We are still investigating the case but you can be sure that we are taking care of the problem." And the donations? What if that swine had spent Terra Save's money on sex with children? Claire rubbed her temple. That was the worst publicity for their organization since their missteps had led to the Harvardville outbreak. "I will take care of the communication with you, Sir. Please let me note down your phone number and I will personally give you an update as soon as I know more. We are all as shocked as you are, but I assure you that the rest of Terra Save is working hard to make this right again. The fight against bioterrorism is our main focus." After standing ten more seconds of outburst from Mr. Eccleston, she finally got enough of his attention to make him calm down again. With the promise to keep him updated, she ended the call and hung up, only to take the next one right away.

"TerraSave. Claire Redfield. How can I help you?"

" Redfield? " the voice on the other end belonged to a man in his forties, likely, and sounded surprised. " As in Chris Redfield? "

The question came unexpectedly and Claire felt awkwardly unmasked by the stranger on the line. Granting herself a second of reflection, she eventually shrugged and decided to take it as naturally as possible.

"As in a relative of his, yes," she replied with a laugh. "How can I help you mister…"

" Richardson ," the voice said. " Bill Richardson ."

Claire didn't stop to wonder where she had heard that name before, as Richardson was quite a common name and like one out of ten men in the U.S. were named Bill.

" I am a freelance journalist ."

Fine, she herself didn't know any Richardson personally. But there were hundreds of public people with that name, weren't there?

" Specialized in bioterrorism ."

There was Samuel Richardson, a dead English writer whom her friend at college had been so passionate about that he'd wanted to set up a play based on his life.

" I have been following Agent Redfield's career closely ."

Bobby Richardson. A baseball player, or so.

" Ever since the start of his career ."

And there was Richardson, Texas.

" In Raccoon City. "

Claire sucked in a sharp breath when it dawned on her that she was speaking to the nosy journalist that had been chasing Chris for an interview ever since the fall of the FBC in 2005. What had Chris told her about that guy? That he was a rat who hadn't cared about him when he'd needed help to uncover Umbrella's evil plans? That he was only alive because he'd been on vacation when Raccoon was destroyed? And that he was just after a story to publish? Yeah, something like that. Claire knew she needed to keep cool and cut the call as soon as possible.

"I assume you want to know when we are going to make public appearances and declarations."

The man chuckled.

" Yes, that would be nice. "

Claire nodded nervously.

"Of course, Mr. Richardson. The press conference is scheduled for ten this morning, here in the building. You will be given access when you show your press card. Do you want to confirm your attendance?"

Worried eyes waved to Lindsay, who was currently holding two phones and obviously being yelled at through both of them. The friends exchanged a desperate look and a roll of eyes before Richardson seemed to wake up again.

" Good idea, Miss Redfield. What was the first name again? "

She swallowed, clicking her tongue inaudibly afterwards.

"Claire," she said as her stomach twisted painfully. "Claire Redfield."

" Miss Claire, of course. Thank you. " The way the man spoke made her shiver and she released her breath in relief as soon as she could hang up.

"Redfield!"

The moment of peace didn't last long, though. The door to the major meeting room had been ripped open and a handful of men, the heads of the main departments among them, stormed into the hall, each of them heading to their respective office. The one who had called out for her was Neil Fisher, the Chief of Operations.

"Follow me!"

Lindsay launched a nervous glance as Claire walked away with a shrug, but no matter how much she tried to downplay her nervousness, her legs felt like jellyfish on morphine and she had to stop and gather herself when she closed the door to Fisher's office behind her.

"Neil?"

He had taken a seat at his desk and pointed to the free chair on the other side, asking her to sit down as well.

"Claire," he said in a dark voice as she'd dropped into the chair. "This has been a disaster."

"Are the donations safe?"

Her straight-to-the-point attitude seemed to impress him, as the concerned look on his face gave in to a slight smile.

"The accounts are untouched," he said with a nod. "This is, luckily, just an issue of image and disgrace."

Claire blew out a relieved breath and dropped against the backrest. The fact that their director had been caught touching children was indeed enough for them to bear with.

"That goddamn asshole."

Fisher nodded.

"I know. This leads to some important changes. A lot of PR and communication of course. Also, many of the enterprises will retrieve their donations if we don't present a detailed budget of what we have done and what we are going to do with their money."

Claire frowned perplexedly as she said, "But that's what we do every quarter."

Neil grabbed a pen and flicked it over the back of his fingers with skill.

"We need a complete annual plan and budget by nine."

Eyes wide open, Claire tried to digest what she had been told, calculating what amount of work they were speaking about.

"That's little more than an hour!" She yelped but eventually nodded. "I can prepare the part of Operations for that and send my numbers to Supply Chain and Administration. Most will be estimations, though."

Neil nodded.

"I know, don't worry," he added as he finally put the pen down. "There is more."

Claire had started taking notes about the new, urgent task, when her boss' words made her look up again.

"Yes?"

"They asked for an immediate substitute for Marshall."

Claire nodded comprehensively.

"I assumed that," she said. "Who's the lucky one?"

Crossing his hands upon the table, Neil cleared his throat.

"I am."

Claire's eyes widened in glad surprise.

"You're the new head of TerraSave?" she asked a little too incredulously. "That's fantastic, Neil. Congratulations."

He fidgeted, swinging his head from side to side.

"It's an interim position," he explained. "I will have to prove myself like any other, but if I perform well, chances are good that I'll indeed become the new leader."

Claire began to wonder if he had called her into his office only to show off his new role.

"I'm sure you'll do great, Neil," she said with a nod and a wide smile. "But what will become of Operations? We need your analytical talent and observation skills to predict trends."

"I will keep doing that. As I said, the leading role is not definite," he said with a smirk and gestured intensely. "But I will not be able to oversee all the department's relief efforts anymore."

Claire felt a knot rise into her throat when she listened to him, tunnel vision starting to take over until she barely saw anything but his bearded face.

"I have been thinking for a long time that it's time to name an Assistant Chief, and I think you are perfect for the position."

From one second to the next, the tunnel widened and the bright shine of the morning sun blinded her, making her feel dizzy.

"Neil, I…"

"You're the best one for the job, Claire," he reassured as he reached for her hand. "You have talent, determination and skill. You have experience, lots of experience. After so many years in the organization, you deserve a promotion, and right now, we need someone to lead the Operations department with me." He leaned back in the chair and pulled out a stack of papers. "It comes with the respective pay rise, of course."

The words hurt somehow, Claire noticed when she put her pen down and sighed.

"I'm not in this because of the money, you should know that," she exclaimed and gained herself a shrug from the interim head of Terra Save.

"I know, but it won't be harmful either." He shrugged. "Also, the assistant position will be definite unless I am chosen to officially become the new head of Terra Save. In that case, the department's yours."

It took her two blinks to get herself to react to his words. He was offering her a very interesting promotion which, in case the major donors and the rest of the team decided their temporary decision was the right one, would result in her leading the operations department and making her own strategic moves. Claire could barely believe her ears.

"I don't know what to say, Neil. Thank you!"

He laughed and got up.

"Take this office, too. I will be occupying Marshall's once the inspectors are done searching it for porn."

With those words, Neil Fisher walked away and left her alone with her thoughts.

If Neil became the new head of Terra Save, she would be the Chief of Operations. Would she get business cards, too? She frowned at the thought. Did Neil have business cards? She couldn't remember.

A short vibration coming from her pocket in flashes struck her and she pulled out her phone to see a message from Leon pop up on the screen.

Just got the news about TerraSave. Need me to kill someone for you?

He was such a sweetheart. She laughed and composed a reply to her friend.

Not today, James Bond, but I'll save that offer for later if you don't mind. I'll keep you updated ;)

Immediately after hitting Send , Claire speed dialed the number of the one person she wanted to share her achievements with. Luckily, Chris had started picking up calls again.

" Claire! Are you okay? " He sounded really worried, making her heart revel in his attention. " I always knew Daddy-Dreadlocks would cause you trouble someday. "

Claire snickered at the mischievous comment about the former boss.

"I'm fine, but there's a lot of work to do here," she said and took a breath. Hearing Chris' voice always eased her nerves. "I'm actually just calling to tell you that I'm Assistant Chief of Operations now."

" Assistant what? " Her brother asked with a hint of confusion in his voice. " Does that mean you make coffee for Fisher? "

She couldn't help laughing in offence.

"I'm basically leading the department with him," she clarified, being given a grunt in response. "But he'll be busy, being the Interim Leader of TerraSave."

" That guy leading TerraSave? I can't say this is any improvement for your organization. "

She laughed again, raking her hand through her red ponytail.

" Anyway, we should celebrate your promotion. How about I take you to your favorite place tonight? "

A sigh of need escaped her lips as she thought of the tiny Thai restaurant where she had chosen to celebrate all her major and minor achievements ever since she'd moved to New York. Her mouth began to water only from thinking of the delicious dishes there.

"Good idea, can you get the nice table in the corner?"

The line rattled under Chris' laugh.

" Sure ."

Although she'd rather have kept speaking to Chris, Claire decided she needed to make herself useful preparing the annual plan and hung up, remembering too late that she had forgotten to tell him about Richardson.

At 930 the press room was brimming with people holding microphones and cameras and the general commotion among the attendees kept most of the TerraSave employees on the edge. Lindsay herself was preparing a water bottle, a glass and a pen for Neil at the speaking desk, while two guys of the IT crew tried to make the projector run. It seemed like destiny had bet against them that morning. Claire was busy counting the attendees and jotting down the numbers when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Neil!" she exclaimed with a smile when she turned around. "Cherishing the last minutes of freedom before the crowd finds out that you're the boss here now?"

The man laughed.

"I wanted to thank you for the good job you did this morning, Claire. I knew I had suggested the best one for my position." The way he winked at her almost made her blush. She wasn't used to being complimented like that and, if she was honest about it, she hated it.

"Thank you, Neil."

"I was thinking," he continued speaking as the hand left her shoulder and crawled down her upper arm instead. "We should go through the department's plans together. How about we have dinner… let's say Friday? I know a nice little place."

She could barely stop her eyes from jumping anxiously across his face, scrutinizing the hidden meaning behind his words, but she soon came to the conclusion that there was no hidden meaning. He was asking her out. Neil Fisher was asking her to have dinner with him and maybe go home with him so he could show her his bachelor apartment with the three-thousand dollar bed in it.

She felt like she had to puke.

"Friday is good, yes" she said innocently, ignoring his real intentions. "But I think we can certainly go through this in the office, don't you think? Maybe we even finish before dinner."

Playing dumb was the best she could do if she didn't want to offend him. She had stopped dating colleagues since she'd broken up with Adam after just a couple of dates, and she didn't want to mix work and freetime ever again. The fact that Leon and she were, somehow, in the same business, was bad enough. Fisher immediately removed his hand from her arm.

"Yes, sure," he said and smiled defeatedly as he walked past her towards the speaking desk and left her relieved that she had spared herself a dinner with her boss, who was easy to look at, easy to work with, but, out of the office, hard to stand.

She watched Neil climb up the stairs to the desk. Leaned against the wall, she dug out a cereal bar from her pocket and quickly peeled the noisy silver wrapper off before Fisher would start the conference and put an end to the tumult in the room. The urgent work was done. From there on, she only had to give personal calls to the bigger donors, introduce herself as the current person to speak to regarding operations, and explain the annual plan to them personally, telling them they could contact her whenever they needed information.

Hopefully, she would be done by the end of the day, so she could have dinner with Chris in peace.

"Good morning," Neil began to speak after shortly tapping the head of the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen. I am Neil Fisher, leader of the Operations department of TerraSave and, until the organization decides the next steps, successor to Timothy Marshall…"

Claire was barely able to listen to the needlessly pompous speech PR-Chief Audrey Jefferson had composed for her boss, and she caught herself disconnecting, letting her eyes drift through the room to analyze the subjects. Reporters of newspapers, magazines, TV and Radio channels were listening attentively to what Neil had to say, some of them shaking their heads in disgust when he mentioned the crime Marshall had been charged with that morning. Her look got stuck on a round face on the other side of the room, as the eyes on it stared right back into hers. After holding her gaze for a couple of seconds, the fat man in a beige raincoat, with the long, dark strands around his balding crown tied back into a ponytail, smiled at her and made her feel more uncomfortable than Neil had just some minutes before. Claire grimaced, kindly forcing a smile, which the stranger seemed to take for an invitation.

"No, no, no," she hissed under her breath and glanced back at Neil, who had the crowd captivated with his presence. She had to admit, he was a more charismatic leader than Marshall had been.

"Miss Redfield?" She turned around and saw that the subject from the other side had already reached her. Surprised that he knew her name, she licked her lips and tilted her head.

"Uhm, yes, that would be me," she said, offering the man her hand. "Claire Redfield. Whom do I have the pleasure…?"

"I'm Bill Richardson," he said and grabbed her hand a little too tightly.

Fuck. Claire could barely hide her displeasure over finally meeting the nosy reporter, who had turned out to be a stinking man with greasy hair and poorly shaved cheeks.

"Mister Richardson," she said with a nod. "Good to see you here. I'm sure this whole incident will make a good story for you."

He laughed out loud, still not releasing her hand.

"Yes, maybe, but the competition is strong, young and aggressive," he said, pointing at the rest of the news-hungry crowd. "I'd rather focus on less public information and more concrete and reliable sources."

Wishing the guy would just dematerialize, Claire momentarily turned her attention to Neil when he'd begun answering questions.

"Well," she said with a laugh. "Neil is an open person but this is the closest you will get to him. I, in your place, would take the chance and ask my questions."

The man snickered.

"Miss Claire," he sang in a honey-like voice. "Why would I care about that guy when I have the chance to speak to you ?"

Her gaze turned to him in feigned amusement. Who did that guy think he was? She slowly began to understand why Chris hated that man so irrationally.

"Oh, I'm a nobody here, just a normal employee," she said with a bitter sweetness in her voice. "And if you excuse me now, I have to pay attention."

But Richardson was still clutching her hand and refused to let go, and not even her evil stare could set her free from his grip.

"Let go before I call security!" she hissed, surprised by the man's ability to simply ignore her words.

"That's not a good idea, Miss Claire," he replied and pulled her so close he could whisper into her ear. "You wouldn't deny an old friend from Raccoon city a talk face to face, would you?"

The way he mouthed the words old friend made her shudder. Something about this guy was more than disconcerting and she just wished she had never picked up the damn phone that morning.

"Face to face?" she asked nervously, swallowing dry.

"And alone?" The man chuckled into her ear, his putrid breath reaching her nostrils. "I don't want anyone to interrupt."

She left the door to Neil's office unlocked after closing it behind Richardson and herself, just in case. The times when she'd trusted toxic people were definitely over, and she had grown too cautious to not leave her phone on voice record on the shelf in case that swine blurted out anything that could help incriminate him later for any kind of crime or misbehavior — even if it was just swiping a box of paperclips.

"So, how can I help you, Mr. Richardson?" she asked as she walked around her desk to have a seat. The man had already sunk into the chair in front of it.

"It was kind of a surprise to find out that Chris Redfield has a younger sister," he said with a grin, giving away that he already knew what kind of relative of Chris' she was. Claire restrained her reaction to a shrug.

"It's not a crime to have siblings," she said and folded her hands upon the desk. "And it has never been a secret either. Yes, Chris Redfield is my brother, but that doesn't make me special in any way."

Richardson laughed.

"Well, as far as I found out, it did lead you to Raccoon City during the outbreak."

She rolled her eyes at the comment, wondering if he was going to tell her something substantial at any point during their conversation.

"What do you want?"

Once done performing a disgusting ritual of cleaning the inside of his earshell with his pinkie and inspecting the tip of it as though he'd made a huge scientific discovery, he leaned forward.

"I have been trying to get an interview with your brother for a very long time." Smacking awkwardly into her face, the man looked like a swamp creature from a fantasy movie to her. She grimaced.

"Chris doesn't give interviews," she said and shrugged. "The B.S.A.A. has a press department for communication with journalists. I can give you the number if you…"

"I have the number, sweetheart," he said and leaned back in the chair, his slimy-sweet attitude giving in to a harder manner. "I want to speak to him personally and I want you to help me."

Unexpectedly, the comment made her laugh loudly, but the man was far from giving up. He seemed rather confident when Claire wiped a tear off her eye.

"And why would I do that?" she asked with exaggerated innocence, at which the man grinned again.

"Look, love, all I want is something unique to publish," he said and pulled out a big, brownish envelope. "Either I get my interview with your brother, or I will have to use this."

After pulling out a couple of papers, he tossed the envelope plus the recently uncovered content onto the desk and Claire's blood seemed to freeze the moment she laid her eyes on it.

There it was, the past she had been running from for over ten years, in the shape of three pictures of a parking lot in front of a motel and a black SUV parked across it. And there was Wesker, Albert Wesker, followed by a girl that looked suspiciously much like her. The pictures showed them leaving a room together, telling a story of a very consensual affair between two people who had no reason to meet in a random place like the motel if it wasn't to have sex.

Claire gasped, her lip shaking in despair as she was faced with sins she had believed to be long forgotten. She remembered that particular morning. It had been their last night together, after Wesker had saved her from the attacker in the dark back alley, the night she had made the mistake of kissing him, but even if she hadn't remembered the day those pictures had been taken, it was so undeniably her who was following Wesker in those pictures that she had barely time to wonder whom they had been taken by.

"It's funny, right?" Richardson exclaimed and laughed. "I had kept these pictures for ten years, believing this material of Albert Wesker would someday be worth a lot of money, but I never knew who the girl was, until I heard about the younger sister of Chris Redfield this morning and found her picture on the TerraSave website." He tapped the picture on the top. "A very attractive younger sister, by the way, then and now."

Neil kept that beautiful silver letter opener in his top drawer. She had found it earlier when she'd been searching the desk for a marker, and now she couldn't stop picturing herself ramming the thing into Richardson's left eye. The left one, yes. It was bigger and looked like it would pop out if she strangled him to death with her bare hands. Getting rid of such a big body would be hard, though, not only because of how much he had to weigh, but because of how greasy he was. The way his hair strands were glued together made her think that the shiny layer covering the bald spot on his head wasn't made of sweat alone. Maybe she could ask Leon for help.

"I wouldn't have believed to find Chris Redfield's sister being so close to one of the most dangerous terrorists ever. Thank you, by the way, for not asking me where I got these pictures from. You surely know that I won't reveal my sources."

Claire blew out an exasperated breath. She had disposed of the idea to kill and quarter the man, but she wasn't going to keep listening to his ramblings.

"To the point, Richardson." Her voice came out weak and husky, and she cursed herself for trying to sound aggressive when she had nothing to challenge her opponent with.

"You know the point, Miss Redfield," the man yelled and slammed his hand onto the desk, making the pictures jump. "I want a meeting with your brother. That's all! Guy's harder to catch than a fish with bare hands. He doesn't talk to the press. He's never in the country and when he is, he doesn't go out. He's given orders to the B.S.A.A. people not to let me in anymore, so, yeah, thanks." His eyes shone with a bright light. "I just want one little interview. Ten minutes to ask him about his experience in Europe and the last time he heard about Wesker."

Claire shook in shame as her look made its way back to the photographs on the desk. She couldn't give him what he requested, certain that the mention of Jill would hurt Chris too much and she didn't want to get Richardson's sharpened knife into her dear brother, but would the memory of his dead partner still hurt him more than finding out that his sister had been having an affair with his Captain? It was ironic, actually, that the one thing she'd done believing she was being blackmailed was now used to actually blackmail her. She swallowed.

"I can't just talk him into meeting with you. He won't listen to me," she said with a shrug. "I fear you ruined things with him for good."

Richardson laughed.

"I don't need you to compromise yourself with your brother, Claire," he said and leaned back again. "I like you. You have been kinder to me than Chris. And I want to help you. Take him out. Somewhere public. I'll be there and all you have to do is to make sure he doesn't leave before I get my interview." His head bopped up. "Can you do that?"

She shuddered. Betraying her brother like this was against her principles, but a meeting with that guy wasn't going to do him any harm, would it? He just wanted an interview, to ask some unpleasant questions and maybe take a picture, and in the best of cases, she would be there to intervene if Richardson crossed a line. She inhaled deeply.

"So, if I help you, you'll give me the pictures?" she asked fearfully. She knew that this man wasn't someone worth her trust, and that she would never know if he kept a copy of the photographs only to come back to her after a while, but it was the best and only chance she had.

"Originals and all seven sets of copies will be handed over to you."

After another brief moment of consideration, she nodded.

"Okay."

She hadn't had time to change. After hours on the phone with all kinds of business people or their secretaries, Claire felt like all her power had been wrung out of her weary limbs and she could barely walk straight when she crawled out of the taxi in front of the restaurant where she was meeting with Chris. Hadn't it been for the tension about the upcoming play she was setting up to keep Richardson happy, she might have collapsed on the street.

Chris lifted a hand to catch her attention as soon as she stumbled into the establishment. It was completely unnecessary, as he had occupied the one table they had accorded he'd get, and Claire felt that the gesture was more a way to shake his own nervousness off than to actually call out for her. He was sweating, as the slight humid stains on his shirt gave away, and thick droplets had condensed around his glass of sparkling liquid and half-melted ice cubes, indicating that he'd spent there a little too long for his taste.

"I'm so sorry." Claire greeted him with a kiss on the temple before sinking into the chair in front of him. "I really wanted to make it earlier."

He responded with a declining gesture.

"It's all good, Claire. You told me you'd be late, I could have come later, too." He winked, visibly relieved to have company now, and lifted his hand as a sign for the waiter. "Order whatever you want. It's on me tonight."

She smiled thankfully, launching him a look of concern as he rose his glass to his lips and wondering what kind of alcoholic grade the sparkling content had. As though he could read her mind, Chris huffed.

"It's soda," he said and grimaced in disgust. "I'm not going to let anything ruin your night, Claire bear." After a short shrug he added, though, "I mean, if it had taken you much longer to arrive, I'd probably have ordered a sample of every bottle of exotic Asian liquor they have hidden in their back chamber, but you're here now!"

She chuckled, but there was nothing funny about his comment. If she hadn't known about his problem before, now she was absolutely certain that her brother was a drinker, a drinker who had replaced his dead girlfriend with an average amount of three glasses of something a day. She wasn't happy about it, of course, but as long as he didn't exceed that number, become violent or get himself into serious trouble, she wouldn't do more than occasionally hint at getting help. To avoid any possible talk about alcohol, Claire quickly turned her attention to the menu the waiter was just handing them.

"I'm starving."

She had been so engrossed in telling her brother everything about her day and all the interesting people she'd had on the line that she'd lost track of time, and realized rather surprisedly that Richardson hadn't shown up yet when they were already ordering dessert. Her look dropped to her watch, recalling her indications to the reporter.

We meet at seven, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't ruin the whole dinner for me. We're supposed to celebrate my promotion tonight.

She'd been late, yes, but he'd have found Chris alone at the table had he come around on time, and Claire wondered if the journalist had dared speak to her brother without her presence, probably causing Chris to decline his petition once more — with a punch in the face, even. When she had determined how to ask him if he'd had company before her arrival, she saw his jaw drop in exasperation, with his eyes set on the door.

"Shit, that guy must be everywhere," he hissed and took up the dessert menu again. It was the moment for Claire to ask what was happening, but before she could open her mouth, she already heard the smoky voice of Bill Richardson behind her.

"Agent Redfield! What a surprise!" His eyes seemed to glow in delight when he turned his attention to Claire. "Oh! You are one of TerraSave's members, am I right?" He nodded confirmingly at his own words. "Yes, I saw you in the Press Room this morning. Do you remember me? Bill Richardson."

"Hardly." Claire smirked awkwardly as she shook his hand. "It was a long day, excuse me. Claire Redfield."

"Claire…" The man quickly turned to Chris. "Won't happen to be your wife, agent…

"My sister!" Chris grunted, body shaken with shallow breathing. "And if you don't mind, we would like to celebrate my sister's promotion."

The fat man nodded, showing his excitement.

"Oh, I see!" Pressing his finger onto his lips, he turned his narrowed eyes to her. "I remember. Fisher mentioned you would be taking over the Operations department now that he's busy leading TerraSave." He shook his head as he grabbed a chair and sat down next to them. "Don't get me wrong. It won't be hard to do a better job than Marshall, but he's not the right head for TerraSave either. He's too immunized to the horrors out there. TerraSave needs a leader with heart."

Impressed by Richardson's acting talent, she could barely stutter a reply to his speech before Chris cleared his throat next to the man.

"Mister Richardson, this is a private affair."

"Oh, I know!" The man exclaimed. "And I don't want to inconvenience you. But, I mean, I had to stop by to greet and congratulate your sister and such. I mean, Chris, I consider you a friend of mine."

Irritation covered Chris' beautiful features, and he seemed to struggle to find the right words to kick the man out.

"Friends? I…"

But that didn't stop Richardson from babbling.

"And now that I know your precious sister is part of TerraSave, I know that she will be my friend, too."

That was the moment for Chris to click. His eyes jumped to Claire, meeting her terrified gaze, and he moved to grab the man by his shirt. The journalist was unexpectedly agile, though.

"You know?" He leaned in to Claire, dodging Chris' hand. "I have been wondering if you would like to give me an interview, Miss Redfield." He laughed loudly, turning shortly to Chris. "As your brother has been reluctant to answer my question for… for years!"

Claire shrugged in response, unsure what she was going to tell him now and if that question had been part of his plan in the first place. When Chris grunted in his seat, she knew that he had, indeed, planned every tiny detail.

"Leave her alone, Richardson," her brother replied with a roll of his eyes. "I'll be happy to receive you and answer your questions."

The man swung his face back to Chris and laughed happily.

"Really?" He pulled out a tiny notebook. "That's great!"

"But not now and not here!" Chris complained and gestured to the door. "We can meet tomorrow morning in front of the B.S.A.A. headquarters."

With an eager nod, the man jumped to his feet.

"Thank you, Agent Redfield. I'll be there at…?"

"Ten." Chris grunted and scratched his eyebrow.

The journalist smirked as though he'd really not expected him to change his mind. With a thankful nod, he wished the siblings a nice evening and was gone as quick and silently as he had appeared. After a minute of uncomfortable reticence, in which Chris had been swinging his glass around like a madman, Claire dared speak again.

"Thank you," she whispered, with absolutely sincere regret in her voice. "Will you really meet with that guy?"

Her brother huffed out a laugh.

"I have to, or he'll start to pester you," he said and finished the last sip of soda. "But I need a real drink now."

Although Chris and his drink had tried their best to keep his mood high, it was an unwritten truth that Richardson had ruined their evening and it had led to yet another restless night of drinking, causing an exhausted redhead to stumble into her interim office the following day. The second day in her new position was as full of emails as the previous day had been stuffed with phone calls and at lunch time, Claire was surprised she still had sensitivity in her fingertips as she'd expected to grow calluses on each of them.

The thought of Chris and his meeting with Richardson didn't let her go. Having barely slept, her brother was a ticking time bomb and if Richardson dared bring up the incident in Europe and the death of Jill, she couldn't guarantee the asshole's safety. She was surprised at how relieved she was when she found the man sitting in the waiting room of the TerraSave head offices when she returned from her lunch break.

"That man says you are awaiting him," Lucy, the receptionist told her as she handed her the messages left by callers during her absence.

"Thank you, Lucy," she said and walked over to Richardson, who lifted himself from the chair when he spotted her. The shameless smirk he had plastered on his face seemed to indicate that the meeting with Chris had gone as planned and that he had gotten the statements and information he'd wanted.

"Miss Redfield," he exclaimed and let Claire lead him into her office.

"I assume you got what you were after," she hissed and stretched her hand out to demand the payment for her help.

"I knew you were the easier Redfield to make business with," the man smirked, keeping the grin on his fat lips, and took out another envelope from his backpack. "As these pictures show."

Claire bravely ignored the comment and began to flick through the developed photographs, the seven copies of each and the negatives as soon as she had them in her hands.

"It's all here," she observed with a satisfied nod as her look jumped back to Richardson. "Unless you kept more copies."

He shook his head.

"You have no reason to believe me, Claire, I know, but I keep my promises." The friendly wink that followed looked rather frightening. "Also, I consider you my friend now, and I wouldn't betray my friends."

Even without the whole blackmailing incident, Claire was absolutely sure that she didn't want someone like Richardson among her friends, but the way he spoke made her believe in his honesty.

"Take care, Miss Redfield."

When Richardson had left her alone, Claire locked her office door and decided to give herself a lesson of regret. Sitting at her desk, she contemplated, in direct comparison, the mindless girl she had once been, and what she had become since.

She would have to destroy the evidence.

You see, the incident seemed to have passed without any inconvenience. Everyone was happy — okay, maybe not Chris— and nothing suggested that I would hear from Richardson ever again. Who knew that it didn't need someone like Richardson to fuck everything up, huh?