Disclaimer; I do not own Resident Evil, their characters (though I wish I owned Claire...); their plot, theme or names, and I do not claim ownership to them. However, I DO claim ownership to my writing, so please don't steal =)

Authors Note: Okay, some of you will probably kill me for writing this (especially Avienda), but I had to get it out of my system. This is a sad one, guys, so you might wanna get some tissues. (I know I needed them) ;D

Rating; T for some language and gore.

Pair; Alice x Claire

It was dark. She hated the dark now. Before the apocalypse, she had loved it. The way the shadows brushed against her skin as she would stare up at the midnight-blue canvas painted with small white dots. They would envelop her as she lay in her all-too-cozy bed at night and dreamed of a better day; perhaps meeting a decent guy (or girl), finding that custom motorcycle part she had been waiting to get her hands on for months, seeing her brother for the first time in weeks...The darkness had been soothing.

Now, it was terrifying. Even with the comforting presence of the blond at her side, it scared her. She would never admit that fear, never let it cloud her face with the slightest doubt. She would never admit how it scared her that, at any given second, an undead could lunge from those shadows that surrounded her now and take a bite out of her jugular. She would never admit how much it scared her to know that the darkness harbored fiends, devils...evil. She wouldn't admit it, but she didn't need to.

Alice knew. She knew she was scared that, at any moment, they could be ripped from one another. She knew she was scared about what was hiding in the inky black depths. She knew, and it was why she never strayed too far.

Claire hated herself for that fear. In the world they lived in, everyone felt it, even the cold, hard warrior that was all she had left. Fear was a necessity, as much as food or water or bullets. It was necessary because it kept you alive. Fear and paranoia were the reason she had survived this long; it kept her always on guard, always watching and always ready. But she still hated it, and she still hated herself for feeling it. It made her feel weak, and if Claire Redfield scorned anything, it was feeling weak.

The presence of the woman beside her should have put her at ease. She knew what Alice could do, what she was capable of. But, for some hidden reason, it didn't. If anything, it made her more afraid, but this fear wasn't for herself. It was for the blond. She knew it was foolish. Alice was more than capable of taking care of herself. Claire had seen what she could do. If anyone was going to survive the end of the world, it was defiantly Alice, and being with her should have reassured the redhead.

But it didn't.

Then again, the only time she ever felt safe anymore was wrapped in the blonds' arms, with the heat of her body pressed against her own. The only time she felt safe anymore was in Alice's embrace, but she didn't hate herself for that.

On cue, the redhead tuned her head, seeking out Alice's stalking form. She was nothing but a silhouette now, one of those shadows lurking in the darkness, but it wasn't one that terrified her. It was comforting, knowing she was right there, barely an arm's length away, even if it didn't take away her fear. The blond felt her gaze, and her head turned almost immediately, pulling her searching eyes from the darkness. Blue met green, and Alice flashed her a small, reassuring smile, her lips curving in the slightest. Claire returned it without a moment's hesitation, even as the older woman once more began studying shifting fragments of light.

Claire studied the blond for a minute more, taking in every perfect detail. The arched eyebrows perched atop piercing blue eyes; eyes that could see into your soul with just a glance. The sharp cheekbones that gave Alice's face a harsh, but elegant look. The perfect lips that, Claire knew from experience, were so very soft beneath her own. Alice was perfection made into flesh, there was no denying it.

And she was all Claire had left. With the slim remains of her convoy dead, Alice was all she had left. Kmart, Carlos, LJ, Mikey, Chase...they were all dead and gone, as if they had never lived at all. She was the last, but at least she had Alice. The deaths of her friends had all but broken her, but the blonde's death would have led straight to her own. There was no living without Alice, not anymore.

They came from nowhere. Their ghastly moans echoed in the small space, filling her ears with the sound and making her wish she was deft. A hundred million sounds had been absorbed in her ears, but nothing had ever disgusted her more than the sound of mindless moaning and wet, decomposing flesh shifting. A hundred million smells had passed the sensitive receptors in her nose, but nothing made her want to puke more than the smell of rotting flesh, even as it clamored toward her.

She didn't think, she simply fired. The infected nearest her dropped like flies passing into a cloud of obnoxious gas, but more moved forward to take their place. The echo of moans was replaced with that of gunfire, the constant mini-explosions making her ears ring. She counted down bullets in her head with each shot, knowing she had a limited supply left. But the dead kept coming, and she kept firing. That is, until the sound of a dull click reached her ears, even over the roar. She was out.

She was out of ammunition. It had been the reason for their raid. The last full clip she had was in the gun she clutched in her hand, and that was gone now, too, wasted on the infected that lie dead not ten feet from her. Her first line of defense was useless now, and she tossed the gun to the side. The remaining undead, seven of them, still approached. Unbeatable odds for her. Maybe not for Alice, but the blond was busy with her own hoard. She wasn't going to give up, though. Not like that, not this easily.

She drew the bowie knife from her belt, eying the nearest targets and preparing herself for her first ever hand-to-hand encounter with the infected. There were too many of them, that was for sure, but that wasn't going to stop her. She wasn't going down without a fight. The closest undead reached her, and she attacked without a second thought, the blade burying into his skull before she ripped it away and lashed out at the next closest enemy.

She heard the splatter of coagulated blood and the sickening crunch of bone, and she knew without looking that Alice was standing just a few yards from her, Kukri blades in hand, cutting down the undead even as she did. She didn't have to look at the blond to know what she looked like, with those knives clutched in the palms of her delicate hands, hands Claire knew were capable of such gentleness. She didn't have to look to know that Alice's face would be drawn into a silent snarl, her eyebrows knit together and her mouth set in a thin line. She didn't have to look to know just how beautiful Alice looked as she slaughtered the undead.

She didn't have to, but she did.

She wanted to run to the blond, to hide behind her and wait for the threat to be taken care of. She wanted to run to the blond and be wrapped in those strong, protective arms, because it was the only place she felt safe. She wanted to, but she couldn't. They were crowding around her, suffocating her. She could barely move, but she still lashed out, sinking the blade into any inch of flesh she could possibly find. Three more fell before she felt the sting of teeth digging into her flesh. Three more fell to the ground to join their companions, but three still remained. No sound passed her lips as two more sets of teeth joined into the cannibalism, one set digging into one forearm while another clamped onto her shoulder and the last buried itself in the soft skin of her leg.

No sound passed her lips, but she still heard screaming. She still heard the desperate, agonized wail of someone screaming her name. She heard it, but she couldn't process it. The pain was too much. It clouded her mind and made her vision blur. It made her stomach turn and clench in knots, and her knees weaken.

Until the pain was gone. Teeth fell from her body, and she was where she wanted to be; in Alice's arms. The now-dead undead circled them, but they still sank to the ground. The dead circled them, but she was still cradled against Alice's strong chest, wrapped in those strong arms as if she was fragile and oh-so-breakable. Through the fog of her mind, Claire heard the blond speak, the sound of her voice replacing the moaning that had been echoing in her ears, reverberating in her head. She clung to the sound of that voice, even as the words reached her.

"Claire...no...no..." The voice was a soft whisper, and she looked up to meet pained, panicked eyes. Eyes she loved so very, very much. Blood was smeared in odd, irregular patterns along the blonde's dirty white t-shirt, and she knew without saying that the blood was her own. Alice's perfect, muscular arms were streaked with it, even as it poured from her body.

She reached up a lone hand, the haze in her mind gone and the pain forgotten. Her palm cupped the woman's sculpted cheek, smearing blood on her face, but Alice didn't seem to care. In fact, she seemed to lean into the touch. Her thumb brushed reverently along the sharp cheekbone, the feel of her soft, unblemished skin so familiar under her touch.

"Alice," she whispered, watching sadly as the blonde's eyes flooded with tears.

"Claire...baby..." Claire's finger moved to the older woman's lips, silencing her words. Those lips brushed against that finger in the softest of kisses, and Alice pulled her ever closer, even as one hand pressed against the gaping wound in her shoulder, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. She didn't have much time...an hour, at the most. Three bites would make the infection spread three times as faster, if blood loss didn't take her sooner.

"The light, Alice. Take me into the light," she said softly, her voice stronger than she expected it to be. Without any more coaching, Alice lifted her into her arms. Claire rested her head against the woman's shoulder, even as she pushed past the gaping door frame. The blaring light of the sun rained down upon her face, and she smiled in the slightest. The blond holding her took a few more long strides before she once more settled to the ground, placing Claire upon the sand with the utmost care.

Claire once more looked into Alice's eyes, holding her gaze for only a second. The blond rarely let her guard down, even with her, but she did now, and Claire's heart broke with what she saw. Reflected in the blue depths was naught but pain, desperation and complete and utter despair. Once more, Claire brought a hand up to cup her lover's cheek, and once again her thumb brushed against her cheekbone.

"Hey...Everything will be fine." Even as she spoke the words, she knew it was a lie. Everything wouldn't be fine. She was going to die, leaving Alice alone. Tears fell down the blonde's dust covered cheeks, creating small rivulets through the grime.

"It will be. I'll find an Umbrella complex. I'll get you the anti-virus. I'll-" The words seem to give Alice some kind of hope, because she moved to pick her up again, but Claire stopped her.

"No, Alice. It's too late for that, and we both know it." As she spoke the words, the blonde's face once more fell to despair, and Claire gave her the smallest of smiles.

"I can't...I can't lose you, Claire. I'll fix it. I have to fix it. " Alice's voice was chocked, strained. Claire was used to raspy almost-whispers, she was used to desire-filled gasps and teasing, amused chuckles. Not strain.

"Hold me," Claire whispered softly, even as the blond moved to do as she asked. Alice's body settled behind her own, her arms snaked around her waist and her chin rested on her un-harmed shoulder. Claire settled between her parted legs, leaning back against the woman she loved, her breathing slightly labored. The wounds had stopped bleeding, but the flesh around them had begun to take on a sickly pallor. The pain disappeared with the blood, but that had nothing to do with her body and everything to do with the woman holding her. Alice's touch always took away everything.

"Do you remember the first time you kissed me?" Claire asked with a soft smile, turning in the slightest to look at the woman. Alice was still crying, though silently, tears falling from her eyes to find their resting place on the redhead's shoulder. Her lips curled in the slightest, and she tightened her arms for just a second.

"Yes," the blond replied, falling silent for a moment before taking a breath and continuing. "You slapped me." At her comment, Claire laughed softly, causing the warrior's smile to widen.

"You surprised me," she defended, replaying the night in her mind.

"You surprised me back," Alice said, the teasing tone in her voice overwhelming the sorrow for the barest of seconds. Not only had Claire slapped her, but barely five seconds later, she had thrown herself at the blond and kissed her right back, leaving Alice adequately shocked and entirely confused.

"You tasted good," Claire defended, her eyes locking on Alice's for the barest of seconds. Alice gave a breathless chuckle, even as another tear slipped past her eyelashes. One idle hand lifted to brush it away, lingering on her lover's face for a moment longer. "That night was the best night of my life," she whispered sincerely.

"Mine too," Alice replied, her voice just as soft. The raspiness had returned, but it didn't replace the anguish.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me." At that, Alice's face clenched painfully.

"No. All I've brought you is death. Everyone is dead because of me. You're dead because of me."

"No, Alice. Baby, no," Claire began, shifting in the blonde's arms so she could look at her face more directly. "I'm alive because of you. Before you came into my life, I was dead. You made me live again, Alice." The blond bowed her head, refusing to believe such words, but Claire wasn't having it.

Her fingers moved to the woman's chin, gently lifting her face until their eyes met. She leaned forward, slowly closing the space between them before their lips pressed together in the softest of kisses. Alice melted into the embrace, a whimper sounding in her throat. Claire didn't need an explanation to know the whimper wasn't from desire, as it usually was, but from heartbreak. When they parted, their eyes glued together, holding steadfastly.

"I love you," Alice whispered ever-so-softly. Claire couldn't keep the smile from her face even if she wanted to; Alice rarely expressed outward devotion, but Claire didn't need her to. She knew Alice loved her, just as Alice knew Claire loved her back. But Alice had never said it...not until now. Claire could tell from the look in the other woman's eyes that she regretted not saying it sooner, not saying it ever second of every day.

"I love you," she returned, once more shifting in Alice's protective embrace, leaning heavily against the woman's chest. Her thoughts wandered, even as her breathing grew labored and her heartbeat slowed. She was running out of time. Alice, as each grain of sand trickled in the hourglass, resorted to placing soft kisses on her tear-soaked shoulder, and it eased the fear clawing in her gut.

"Do you...remember that time...Kmart walked in on us?" She asked after many moments of silence, pausing occasionally to catch her breath. Alice smiled against her skin, pausing for only a moment to reply.

"I thought the poor girl would die from shock," she mumbled, the humming of her voice as it vibrated against her skin sending a shiver up Claire's spine. The redhead gave a breathless chuckle, and the blond resumed her kisses.

"That next morning, though," she began before taking another breath, "I don't think I've ever seen her so happy." A resulting chuckle once more purred against her flesh, but no shiver came of it.

"She'd been dropping hints for weeks...she was ecstatic."

"Where do you think we would be, if none of this had happened," the redhead asked softly, wistfully.

"We would be at home, in our beds, watching a movie or reading," Alice replied confidently, the pain evident in her voice. "You would be safe."

"Then I'm glad we're here."

"How could you possibly be glad about this? You're dying." Her voice broke as she spoke the word, and she once more buried her head in Claire's shoulder.

"Because," the redhead began, clenching her arms tighter around Alice's, "If none of this had happened, I wouldn't be here with you. I might be dying, but I'm dying in your arms, and that's better that living without them." She spoke with conviction.

"How do you know?" the blond whispered softly, ever so softly. "If none of this had ever happened, I still would have found you. I was in love with you before we even met."

"Can you picture it, Alice?" Claire said after a few moments, her voice dreamy and snagging the older woman's attention. "You and me, living in an old farm house in Montana, on a hundred acres of land? Away from all the traffic and violence, in the middle of nowhere? Spending lazy mornings in bed, lying in one another's arms."

"With Kmart cooking breakfast in the kitchen?"

"Yes, with Kmart cooking breakfast in the kitchen," Claire confirmed with a small, wistful smile, "And Carlos knocking on the front door, ready to molest you with his eyes." This earned a soft chuckle from the woman at her back, and Claire joined in. She didn't know how long they talked about where they might be, if the apocalypse had never come, but no matter what they talked about, they were always together. Neither could imagine a world where they didn't have the other.

They talked about riding horses on the beach at sunset and playing Clue with Kmart. They talked about having a family, a little girl that looked just like Claire and a little boy with Alice's knack for getting in trouble, complete with her charm and sneakiness. They talked about watching old movies curled up on the couch, snugly wrapped together with a bowl of popcorn and nothing else. They talked about getting married, about becoming Mrs. Alice and Claire Abernathy and living happily ever after. They laughed and teased, each trying desperately to put the hopelessness of the situation from their minds, but neither succeeding.

She didn't know how long they talked, but eventually they fell silent, each imagining the life that could have been, but would never be.

"I'm cold..." The redhead said softly. The stifling heat of the desert had lost its effect on her, and a chill seeped into her bones. Her pale, sickly skin was covered in Goosebumps and the hollows beneath her eyes were a deep, sunken purple. Without another word, Alice slipped the duster from her shoulders, her slight movements jarring the redhead. She lay it gently atop her, chasing away some of the chill, but not much.

"Don't let me go," Claire begged, desperate to be as close to Alice as close to physically possible, even as she felt her body grow weaker, and the virus pulsing through her blood grow stronger.

"Never," Alice whispered fervently in return, her arms tightening in desperation.

"Don't blame yourself for this, Alice." Of course Claire had known that she would. Alice blamed herself for everything, and this would be no different. But Claire didn't want that for her. She had to make sure the blond knew this wasn't her fault. None of it was her fault.

"I can't do that."

"This isn't your fault," the redhead replied intensely, clutching one of Alice's hands in her own.

"I could have stayed closer...I could have moved faster...I could have-"

"No," Claire cut her off, not wanting to hear the end of the sentence. "This isn't your fault," she repeated, the words spoken with fever as desperation sank in. Alice could blame herself for everything else, but not this. The guilt of this would destroy her. But all Alice did was remain quiet.

"Alice..." Claire whispered after a many moments of silence. The seriousness in her voice made the blond lift her head and met the green eyes waiting for her. "Don't...don't let me become one of those things." The words were spoken with renewed strength, and they both knew she didn't have much longer. Tears returned full force, and Claire felt the sting of her own.

"Don't leave me...baby please…please don't leave me." The redhead had never heard such hopelessness in the spoken word.

"Shhh." Claire soothed, "this isn't goodbye. I'll see you again..." Her own tears fell freely now, and she didn't try to keep them at bay anymore. "I'll meet you on the other side."

"I need you. I can't live without you..."

"Yes, Alice. You can. I'll never leave you. I'll always be with you, no matter what happens." Claire lifted a hand, pressing it firmly against the blonde's strongly beating heart. "I'll be here." Alice lost what little control she had left, burying her head into Claire shoulder as tears turned to sobs. Claire turned slightly, holding the woman while she cried. Tears flooded her own eyes, and she clung desperately to Alice's sturdy, lithe body, as if the action itself would save her from certain doom.

"Listen to me..." Claire whispered softly, insistently. Alice lifted her head, her beautiful blue eyes electric as they glowed from red, swollen skin. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. My life meant nothing until you walked into it. Never forget how much I love you. Never forget how amazing you are. Even if you don't realize it, or you don't believe it or agree, you are. You're the most amazing person I've ever met. And I love you so much."

With that, Claire reached to Alice's thigh, unclipping the clasp that kept the handgun in its holster and pulling it free. Alice followed her movements as Claire held the Nite-Tac in her hand, running her fingers along the scarred metal. She studied the gun, taking in every detail. It was perfect, just like Alice. Beautiful and striking, harsh and cold. But, it was freedom. It was salvation, just like Alice had been.

Deftly, she pulled herself laboriously to her feet, Alice's strong hands helping her as the blond stood too, a look of desolation on her face. She knew what was coming, but she wouldn't - couldn't - accept it. As they had both gained their feet, Claire turned to the blond and started at her for a long moment before her hand lifted to frame her face. Alice clenched her eyes shut, tears still leaking from them even as Claire leaned forward and placed their lips together in a final, parting kiss.

Alice returned the embrace, weakly, her lips moving against Claire's in defeat. When they parted, their eyes met, Claire's holding sparkling love and devotion, and Alice's holding despondency. The redhead grabbed one of the warrior's hands, lifting in to the small space between them before depositing the handgun in it. They both looked at the gun, perched in Alice's upturned palm with Claire's smaller, delicate hand resting on top of it.

"I love you," Claire whispered once again before she began backing up, as quickly as her sluggish limbs could carry her. Alice didn't look at her, simply kept her eyes focused on the weapon in her hand. It wasn't until many moments later that she lifted her eyes and spotted the redhead, standing many feet away, her back stiff and straight and her face set in grim determination. She knew what was expected of her.

Their eyes locked, Claire's reflecting nothing but pure love and trust and slowly, painfully, her fingers curled around the pommel of the firearm and she lifted it. Her hand trembled violently, and her eyes clouded with tears which were falling in rivulets now, streaking down her face to land in small pools at her feet before the desert ate them greedily. Her resolve broke.

"I...I can't." The words were half whisper, half sob, and her body trembled just as violently as her hand. She had killed, time and time again. She had placed countless bullets in between the eyes of survivors begging for mercy, but she couldn't do this. She would rather die than do this...

"Yes, you can. You have to. I need you to, Alice," Claire said softly, intensely. "I don't want to be one of those things. Please, don't let me be one of them." She was begging now, pleading as her own tears fell. This seemed to be what the blond needed, because she sucked in a deep breath, clenched her eyes shut, and forced her hand to steady. When she opened them again, they once more clashed with green.

"Alice..." Claire whispered, giving the blond a second's pause. "Remember what I said. This isn't your fault..." She took her own deep, steadying breath, forcing her eyes to remain locked on Alice's and not the gun not aimed between her eyes.

"I'll always come back to you," Alice chocked hoarsely, blinking away the freshest wave of stinging salt-water flooding her eyes and clouding her vision. She needed to see straight. One clean, painless shot. She had to...she needed to. It was what Claire wanted. It was what she needed. A way out. Freedom. Salvation. "I love you," she whispered, letting just a second pass before her finger squeezed the trigger, and one clean, resounding shot echoed in the desert.

She fell to her knees, the gun slipping from her limp fingers. Sobs wracked her body, painful in their intensity and she buried her face in her shaking palms. She sobbed for minutes, hours, days...she didn't know. All she knew was the gaping emptiness in her soul. When she finally ran out of tears, when she could cry no more, she lifted her eyes. As she studied the motionless, lifeless body of her beloved, her very heart and soul lying prone on the desert sand, something in her snapped.

Umbrella. They had done this; They had done this to the world, to her...to Claire. They were the reason the person she loved more than life itself was dead. They were the reason Claire would never know what it was like to life a peaceful, normal life. They were the reason her world was shattered. They were the reason, and they would pay. She stood, slowly and deliberately her entire body aching from the sheer force of her sobbing. Rage overtook sorrow, and her vision clouded with the force of it.

They were the reason, and she would make them pay. She would bleed every Umbrella bastard dry. She would tear them apart, from the ground up. She was the perfect weapon, the perfect killing machine of their own making, and she would use it against them. Bending, she picked up the discarded firearm, her hand clenching so forcefully around the hilt that it drew blood. Her body was still trembling, but it was no longer from heartache. She was dead inside, dead and barren. Every ounce of anything human that remained inside of her had died with Claire, and it its place was a monster; a monster with a mission.

Umbrella would burn. If it was the last thing she did, they would burn, and she would delight in the flames.

Parting Note: Okay, okay, don't kill me! I'm not done with it just yet. And the faster you review, the faster I update, so quick! Like a speedy bunny click the review button and brutalize me with your curses and rants!