Chapter Text
The sea was on fire. Debris from the sinking carrier burned across the dark water, orange flames licking at black waves as the helicopter circled overhead. Searchlights cut through smoke and steam—but there was nothing left to find. Except one man. Chris Redfield sat at the edge of the open helicopter bay, soaked through, unmoving. His rifle lay abandoned at his feet. His hands—those steady, unshakable hands—were trembling.
He didn’t hear the rotors. He didn’t hear the pilot. He didn’t hear her.
“Chris.”
Nothing. Claire Redfield stepped forward, boots heavy against the metal floor. When she heard the news, she got in the next helicopter out to China. She needed to be present. And she’d gotten there just in time to see the aftermath. Just in time to see what it cost. Her gaze flickered briefly to the ocean below. Gone. Piers Nivans was gone. Claire swallowed hard, forcing the grief down—for now.
“Chris.”
Still no response. Her chest tightened.
This wasn’t just shock. She’d seen this before. Survivors who didn’t come back—not really. People who stayed trapped in the moment. Her brother was slipping into that same abyss. She crossed the remaining distance and grabbed his shoulder, firm.
“Chris.”
He flinched. Finally. Slowly, as if it physically hurt, he turned his head. His eyes were hollow. And that scared her more than anything.
“He was just a kid…” he muttered.
Claire’s grip tightened. “Don’t.”
His jaw clenched. “I got him killed.”
There it was. The spiral.
“You don’t get to decide that,” she shot back.
Chris stood abruptly, pulling away from her. “I was his captain, Claire! He trusted me!”
“And he chose you!”
The words cut through the air sharper than any blade. Chris froze. Claire stepped in front of him, forcing him to face her fully now.
“He knew what he was doing,” she continued, voice shaking but unwavering. “You told me about him—how stubborn he was, how he wouldn’t back down.”
Chris’s expression cracked, just slightly.
“He didn’t follow you because he had to,” she said. “He followed you because he believed in you.”
“That belief got him killed!” Chris snapped, anger finally breaking through the grief.
“NO.”
Claire’s voice echoed over the roar of the helicopter. Even the pilot glanced back. She didn’t care.
“That belief,” she said, stepping closer, “is the reason you’re still here.”
Silence slammed into them.
Chris shook his head, backing away. “That’s not something to be proud of.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
Her voice softened—but her eyes didn’t. “I said it means something.”
He looked away, fists clenched so tight they shook. “I couldn’t save him…”
Claire closed the distance again slowly this time, like approaching something fragile.
“You weren’t supposed to.”
That made him look at her. Really look at her. And for a second, she saw her brother again—not the soldier, not the captain—the man who used to carry her out of nightmares when they were kids.
“You think I don’t know what it’s like?” she said quietly. “To lose people you couldn’t save?”
Steve. TerraSave teams. So many names she never said out loud anymore. Her voice wavered—but didn’t break.
“The difference is… you don’t have to carry it alone.”
Chris’s composure shattered. His shoulders dropped, like something inside him finally gave out.
Claire didn’t hesitate. She pulled him into a tight embrace. For a moment, he resisted.
Then— He broke. A sharp breath, almost a sob, escaped him as his hands gripped the back of her jacket like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“I should’ve—”
“You did everything you could.”
“I should’ve stayed—”
“You wouldn’t be here.”
“I should’ve saved him—”
Claire pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “You honor him by surviving.”
The words landed hard. Chris stared at her, breathing uneven, eyes glassy with something he hadn’t let himself feel yet. Grief. Real, raw grief.
“He didn’t die because you failed,” she said softly.
“He died making sure you didn’t.”
Silence stretched between them—but it wasn’t empty anymore. It was heavy. Chris’s gaze drifted back to the ocean. But this time… he wasn’t alone with it.
“…He was a good soldier,” he said quietly.
Claire nodded. “Then don’t let him be forgotten as just another casualty.”
Chris exhaled shakily. “No,” he murmured. “He won’t be.”
For the first time since the explosion— There was something else in his voice. Not just guilt. Resolve. Claire squeezed his shoulder, staying beside him as the helicopter began to turn away from the burning wreckage.
“You’re not doing this alone,” she said.
Chris didn’t argue and neither pushed her away. Didn’t retreat back into silence either.
“…Yeah,” he said, barely above a whisper.