Post RE5 but I haven't even bothered to play RE6 so it doesn't exist in my fanfic universe -snort- I'm terrible sorry :v

Timeslines always suck, so if I follow the timeline ( + Evans age) Claire should be 33 and RE6 would have triggered.

So please apply Fanfic logic, I had intended for Claire to be like. 26, or 27 at the time. So please roll with that. Partial AU logic. Umph.

Also bringing back little Evans - for anyone new to my fics, he's Chris and Jill's 4-year-old son. One of my other fics, Aunty Claire, was mostly about him and his Aunt. This is meant to be after that one :o

The car was unusually quiet on the ride to Claire's home. There had been some lively chatter earlier, but half way through the drive it had stopped. Pulling up to the red lights, Chris glanced at his son with the drivers' mirror.

Evans was looking out the window, seemingly off in his own thoughts, something that was unusually. On a regular occasion, he would be more than happy to narrate his thoughts to anyone that was within earshot.

"Is something wrong, Tiger?" Chris asked gingerly, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"No... I'm just thinking." The child responded half-heartedly.

"Hey, that's not like you - What about?" Chris asked with a bit of jest, which was completely missed by his son.

"Just that Auntie's like mummy." Evans replied nonchalantly.

Chris gave a light laugh. "They're certainly both the most headstrong women I've ever known." He began.

"No, Daddy." Evans shot back sternly. A pause passed between the two before he corrected his father, "Sometimes like mummy, Aunty just... Looks so sad."

Chris frowned, turning his gaze back to the lights. He returned to that pause, quiet as he himself fell into thought. He thought over what he'd say, although it was hard to simplify it. "Both your mother and your aunty have been through a lot, Evans. And they both love you."

"I just don't want them sad anymore." Evans sighed as pressing himself into the cars cushioned backing with a frown.

"The best you can do is be there for them. The rest is their own battle." Chris responded.

Evans looked to his father, a little confused by the answer. "I don't understand?" he asked.

Once again Chris paused, rethinking it over again, before sparking an idea. "Ahh, this is a talk for when you're much older... Just be sure to make sure your Aunty has fun! Okay? Same with mummy. That's what you can do to make them feel better."

"Okay!" The child beamed, seemingly happy with this new advice.

His happy nature was maintained the rest of the ride to Claire's home, and appeared to carry on for some time following, having nearly barreled Claire over as soon as she opened the door.

"Hello to you, too, Evans!" She called after him, as he immediately dived onto the couch. She shook her head and nodded to greet her brother. "He's certainly gotten energetic fast, hasn't he?"

"I'm starting to think Jill's slipping him chocolate behind my back. Well, he's your problem now." Chris shrugged with a smirk, receiving a playful thump to the shoulder.

"Meanie head, why's your kid so nice when you're a big jerk?" Claire laughed, before putting her hands on her hips. "Good to see you. How's the missus?"

"Getting big," Chris whistled, hands shoved in his pockets. "Little one should be here in a month I think, I've honestly lost track of the dates."

"That's good."

"Very Frisky." he added. "All the hormones."

Claire immediately threw her hands up, "Yes, too much! Halt, stop, be silent and hold thy peace! I am but a humble babysitter and anti-bioterrorist agent, I know not of this world you speak of!"

"If you weren't my sister and I was likely to kill every man I see, I'd ask how long it's been since you've slept with someone with that sort of action."

"Hold thy tongue, heathen! Leave this sacred place; you are not permitted to seek shelter in the pillow forts your son will construct!"

"When did you start watching medieval dramas instead of Soap Operas?" Chris quizzed.

"All of my usual series on public television are on filming hiatus and my cable got blown out last week. Got half the channels now so I make due with what I have." She explained matter-of-factly, "Now, leave before I banish you from my kingdom! ... Pick-up's at 3, right?"

"Yes milord, and I will give the queen your blessing."

Always an interesting parting between the two, Chris strolled back to his car and Claire wondered back inside to see the damage. Straight to the lounge, like she knew he would.

A few toys and little crafting supplies dumped on the floor near the television.

She'd set it up earlier, but hadn't planned on the whole area being trashed within the first five minutes. Evans had scrambled through his books, misplaced his toys and miniature robots and got straight to colouring outside of some lines, although even this last action bored him quite early as Claire sat down.

Soon the soft clicking sounds commenced, each of the connector texta pens disappearing one by one.

Claire raised her eyebrow curiously. "What'cha got there?" She quizzed, setting over beside him and kneeling down. He turned, pointing a golden coloured end of the marks to her.

"Pew pew! I'mma shoot you dead!"

"Oh no, but I have so much to live for!" Claire cried dramatically, grabbing the 'barrel' of the gun the little one had constructed from the connector pens. She pointed off to the side gently as he grinned. "I haven't even taken over the world yet!"

"I wanna fight evil like you and mum and dad!" Evans pepped up, taking Claire aback. Little texta assault rifles and bioterrorism were pretty different things, although not to the boys little mind.

"Noooo you don't!" She responded, grabbing some of the free textas and mindlessly placing them against one another, "No no no, you should do something better. Why don't you be a policema- A fireman?" She suggested.

"Fire's hot."

Claire paused. "... This is true. What about an Astronaut?"

The little one jumped and began waving his arms around excitedly. "Yeah! It's gonna be so cool! I'll go zoom!" With that he took off across the room, nearly tripping on the mat. Claire laughed lightly, making a mental note to move the table as well. "Do you think there are zombies on the moon?!"

"Nooooo! ... Only aliens!"

"Can I shoot aliens, Aunty?"

"Only if he shoots first." The comment went over Evans head, and the woman laughed to herself and flopped back onto her big comfy couch. She hummed, pawing for her remote control and starting to scroll some channels she'd already picked out.

Evans seemed contented with his play pretend, which left Claire a little freedom in what she got to watch. She ended up choosing to respark her childhood (Or rather, in her teens) appreciation of Tabaluga. Australians had odd television.

A back to back running, and she was half asleep through the second running. She'd had some DVDs sorted out prior, but was feeling herself getting far too lazy to go through with her schedule. It was really only the few action sounds from Evans that kept her from dozing off entirely.

He'd since moved back to drawing properly, apparently illustrating his toys in an all out cybertronic war. It may have been pretty interesting, but all Claire could make out were flashes of colours on the once blank page. "Such a lazy day... Lazy, but boring." She sighed. "I gotta get up, or I'll wake up with marker all over my face."

Lazily she got up from her seat, stretching her arms up and yawning. What she needed was a cup of coffee, for sure, and to start cooking some lunch. Cheese and Tomato sandwiches sounded pretty good. A little grilled, a small treat given how much of a stickler she was against take-away.

A few of the tomatoes in her fridge had managed to withstand recent time, and were still quite fresh for the most part. Score. She'd just started up chopping the troublesome fruit... Uh, vegetable? Chopping the troublesome deliciousness-

Ding!

Claire paused chopping, listening carefully for a moment. Tossing her gaze to the doorway she contemplated on if she could remember anyone planning to come around. Nothing popped into mind.

"You told me Daddy wasn't coming until after Reboot!" Evans called, looking up from his colouring and seeming quite upset by the development. He quickly got to his feet, and ran over to the kitchen's door frame to peer in.

"I had Reboot planned for two o'clock..." Claire responded a tad confused. She took a glance at the clock - it was only twelve thirty. "That was what he said to me, if it was something important he would have called me first. Probably a late parcel." She mused.

From where she was she could just see the front door, but no clear view of whoever it was. The front door wasn't too far off. Rather, she could see a shadow cast through the tinted glass door. From the impression she could get from the shadow, they seemed to be fidgeting.

"Then I'll get the door!" Evans called giddily as he dashed to the door, opening it without a second thought. Claire barely had time to even register what the little boy had said before a voice was heard.

"Ahh... Hey, is your mother home?"

Claire's heart jumped straight into her throat. "Evans! Come back here right now!"

Overprotective instincts kicked in, although given certain enemies in her own life it may not have been an over reaction. Despite a very small prang of familiarity in the persons voice in the back of her subconscious, she was taking no chances.

"My mummy doesn't live here." Evans answered, almost confused.

"Evans!" Claire had flung one of the draws open, hunting for one of the guns she kept hidden in the house. 45, 45, where the hell was it...

"Oh, I see... So does Claire still live here?"

"EVANS!" She practically threw herself out of the kitchen.

"Yes. Why would Mummy live with Aunty? You're-" The little one wasn't able to finish his statement as his aunt forcibly pulled him back from his shoulder and put herself between him and the door.

She had her gun ready at her side, and had gotten quick to the draw. "You- Who are you, how do you know me and what do you want?" Claire snapped, before looking down to Evans quickly. "And you, Mister! Your parents have told you to let them open the door; it's the same here unless I know for sure it's them!"

"I'm soorrryyyy," Evans sobbed, wincing and trying to draw his arm from her grasp. "Aunty Claire, you're hurting my wrist!"

"Sorry Sugar, I'll let go in a moment." Claire sighed, loosening her grip slightly, although still somewhat hesitantly.

"He's alright, you can let him go." The visitor stated, although apparently just as hesitant as Claire herself.

"Intros, Mystery Man." Claire threatened. She quickly looked him up and down, what she saw not helping ease her adrenaline rush.

He was dressed darkly, heavy looking maroon bandana tied around his neck. His jacket slunk across his shoulders, the sides seemingly weight down. The buttons remained open, revealing the grayed shirt, which somehow seemed darker than it should be, as well as apparent bandages- Underneath and covering the fingers of his left arm. In fact it covered more than that, wrapped tightly around his chest (or so Claire would assume), and a segment covering his face, leaving only one of his blue eyes showing. The bandages themselves seemed to part some of his hair, making it appear far more messy that it probably would be on a normal occasion.

The fabrics itself was stained with time and faded... Blood.

"No offense there, but you're probably scaring my nephew and it looks as if you got torn up by some dogs."

He shook his head, not particularly taking in too much of the information. "The dogs were some of the few things I got along with there."

"Alright. Step back from the door and turn around." Claire instructed. Her guest sighed, but followed the instruction. He raised his hands, as if joking about the situation. "You're pushing your luck."

"Relax, beautiful." He purred, taking Claire off guard. Something so very familiar about his tone as he carried on. He glanced over his shoulder and seemed to smile warmly. "My name's Steve, and I'm not a prisoner any longer."

Her gun arm trembled and she gripped her gun tightly. She remained silent, simply staring at his back.

"Can I turn around now?"

She bit her lip, her eyes watering. "Don't. Don't you dear - I don't think I could hold myself together."

She wiped some of the moisture from her eyes, and during that moment of distraction he had turned and embraced her. "It's alright gorgeous, I'll hold you up," He smiled, "Just do the same for me."

Claire sighed deeply, letting a tender moment be for a beat.

She pushed away from him suddenly, raising her gun to him. He flinched, but quickly recovered. "I can't blame you for not trusting me, but I am a little upset. First you don't recognize me, then..."

"Shut up," She snapped halfheartedly. "Even if it's you, how do I know you're not damn ballistic? You died..."

He scratched the back of his head and looked away. There wasn't really a way he could explain it to her, since he couldn't explain it himself. He knew answering 'Will of the Umbrella Corp' wouldn't exactly aid his reputation now.

"I could go for a coffee." He shrugged.

Claire simply looked back amazed. "Are you kidding me? That doesn't-"

"What's your name again?"

Evans had squeaked the question from behind Claire, who had since let go of her grip. She turned to tell him off, but Steve knelt down to see Evans eye-to-eye. He extended his hand, the unbandaged one specifically.

"I'm Steve, I'm an old friend of your Aunties. It's nice to meet you." Steve offered. Evan took the mans hand and did his best to shake it enthusiastically.

"Iiii'm Evans, Aunty's my Aunty!" He responded with a chirp, quickly taking his hand back. "I'll get chocolate milk for you!" And with that he sprinted off to the kitchen.

"Evans! Really?! Jeez... I guess that's settled." Claire grunted, frustrated but seeming to have dropped her guard a bit. She shook her head, looking at Steve. "I know it's you, I thought maybe yeah, but I didn't want to risk, you know. Ah, Evans is like a dog... If you're a bad person he knows. It's the strangest instinct."

"So I'm in the clear then? Remind me to give the little man a high-five." Steve smirked, walking in as Claire begrudgingly stepped out of his way.

"Keep in mind, you hurt him, I'll still shoot you. Between the eyes." Claire threatened, closing the door and hunting about one of the draws yet again. She snapped a holster from the drawer around her waist, pointing it out to Steve as she holstered her gun. "One quick draw away from a bullet, just remember that."

"Practicing your aim?" Steve quizzed.

"I've had a lot of things to shoot at the last few years, despite trying to get as much deskwork and public relation gigs as I can get." She explained, though some tenseness noticeable in her voice. "And hey, remember who shot out your spotlight."

"Yeah, that was a mean move, but zombies don't shoot."

"You call them zombies these days and you'll get shot." Claire snorted, catching herself.

"Hey, c'mon. I've missed that laugh." He smiled, slinking an arm around Claire's shoulders.

"I could punch you in the dick right now."

"Ooo, you're so scary." He smiled.

She rolled her eyes, ducking out from his embrace. "If you still want that coffee I'll start brewing, I think he's forgotten about that chocolate milk right now. Memory of a goldfish."

She sauntered towards her kitchen, but once more patted her holster in warning. As she did so however, a little hand grabbed at her pants leg. She looked down to Evans, with his arms raised up to her.

"Are you acting up because we have company?" Claire asked, before getting down on her knees. Without hesitation, he jumped up on her shoulders and rested his arms on top of her head. She stood back up, although lost her balance a tad, but continued to the kitchen as 'Choo choo' echoed from Evans.

"Isn't he heavy?" Steve asked, following the two - half expecting Claire to slip and the two to go falling.

"When you're an Aunt you're always strong enough!" Claire stated confidently, grabbing some milk from the fridge while balancing the conductor, who announced some bizarre station names. "Are you saying I'm not strong enough to lift up a kid? I have Redfield genes, I'll have you know! I could punch a boulder and win!"

"A boulder? Why would..." Steve shook his head - somehow he knew there was no way he'd get it any sort of explanation.

"Do you have any cream or-"

"Aunty Claire." Evans interjected.

"Yes Sugar?" Claire quizzed, ignoring Steve for a moment.

"We need to get off the train." Evans stated bluntly, staring off to nowhere. "There are spiders."

"... Ooookay sweetie, we stop at this station then." She struggled for a moment, but managed to lift Evans from her shoulders and place him back on the ground. He toddled off, quickly finding something unrelated to amuse himself with.

"I know it's not place to say but... Your nephew's a weird kid." Steve commented, walk up behind Claire and surveying the coffee situation.

She paused for a moment, feeling him look over her shoulder. "... Have you ever had coffee, Steve?" He bit his lip and didn't answer, causing the lass to stifle a laugh. "Oo, someone's just trying to look cool."

"I guess I'm not impressing you then, huh?"

"We'll start you with a Mocha," She smiled briefly. Her shoulder slumped a second later, herself falling quiet for some time. Steve felt awkward even with the idea of breaking the silence before she did. "You're acting as if you haven't been out of my life for more than a week, Steve..."

He shuffled on his feet, hesitating. "Ahh, it's kinda like that for me." He admitted meekly. "You've been on my mind for so long, it's like you kinda didn't leave ya know?"

"I don't, but that's both eerie and really sweet." Claire hummed softly, leaning back against Steve. A blush broke out across his cheeks. "Now, do me a favour and play with Evans, will you? I can see over the counter, so just remember-"

"That it's one draw and I'll get lead between my eyes. I gotcha."

As Claire took her weight from him he quietly walked to the lounge. It was only a stones throw away, and Claire told the truth about being able to see. The counter was broad, and saw straight into the loungeroom.

Steve planted down on the main sofa. He considered taking his jacket off, considering he was beginning to overheat, but the bandages seemed to cause him some anxiety. It was that or worse, so it wasn't as if he could complain.

He only had a few moments to think, before Evans shoved a pink car into his hands. He raised a brow and looked it over for a moment, before Evans gasped and quickly snatched it back.

"Your favourite car?" Steve quizzed. Evans shook his head.

"Nooo, no driver. I don't want ghost cars. That ended weird last time. They flew."

"Is that so?" Steve smiled, still a tad taken aback by the childs demeanour. Within a moment, Evans had shoved the car back into Steves hands, equipped with a new driver.

Batman, of all things.

"Hm, yeah, I can see him cruising in one of these." Steve mused, holding the car up. Truthfully, he wasn't exactly sure what Evans wanted him to do with it. He looked at the young boy, who had seated himself on the ground and was barreling his own toy car into little figurines, knocking down the helpless pedestrians.

"Excuse me young man!" Claire called from the kitchen, ready to scold the child. "Are you running over humans, or zombies?!"

"Alieeens! I'm an Astronaut!" The child chimed back, ramming the car into an already down figurine.

"Good answer! Carry on!"

Steve snorted. Something about the discussion and the interaction made him feel... Contented. He brushed aside the small thought of it being Paternal Instinct suddenly developing, and put it down to amusement from the otherwise feisty woman.

"Mr. Steve?"

"Yeah, kid?" It snapped Steve from his stupor. What exactly was with the 'Mr.' business...?

Evans idly played with his little cars as he spoke. "Aunty wouldn't answer me last time so I gotta ask you." Evans explained matter-of-factly. Steve nodded, awaiting the question. "What's sex?"

Steve sat straight up, then quickly stood up, "Oh hell no, I have no experience to answer this, kid!" Steve babbled, looking over his shoulder to the kitchen. "Claire! Help me out!"

"Who wants to watch more Tales From The Crypt?!" Claire sang, sliding into the lounge, remote in hand. Evans cheered, complete distracted as Claire clicked the TV back on. That familiar, sinister laughter rang through the room and startled Steve more than he already was.

"Hey that's a nice save and all, but is that much better? I remember that show a bit." Steve asked. Claire shrugged.

"Eh, kids don't seem to notice the adult themes, and if he does... Hey, he gets his answer."

"You're a terrible aunt!" Steve chuckled, sitting back on the sofa and clasping his hands together.

"Nah, just resourceful." Claire smiled, ducking back into the kitchen and grabbing the mugs, passing Steve his before sitting down beside him.

"I don't remember liking kids much." Steve commented quietly, hoping for Evans not to hear him.

"You've grown up!" Claire pepped in, "... Plus, Evans is a sweetheart. If you didn't like him, I'd have to punch you."

"Weirdly enough I'd hold you to that." Steve said, glancing at his mug. He'd take a sip - in a moment, just for now his limbs were starting to feel slightly weak and his eyes tired.

Ah. Shit. He knew this feeling, way too well. It was coming on fast.

"What, you're not going to try and make a pass at me now?" Claire chuckled, before pausing. "Are you alright?"

He nodded slowly, handing his cup to Claire. He held the handle to her, hand clasping the very hot mug in his palm. "Could you, could you hold this for me?"

Claire set her own mug on the table and Steve's followed suite. She put a hand on his shoulder and the other on the knee. "Steve, what's wrong?" She asked, pushing the subject.

"Just a little tired. Maybe... Really tired right now." He answered, although his voice was beginning to waver. "I'm sorry... I'm not a good house guest." He leaned over, slipping slightly. His consciousness was fleeting and he felt quite guilty for doing so in her presence.

"Steve," She shook him slightly, and he tiredly batted her hand away. "You can't just tell me you're fine when you look like you're about to go into coma!"

"That's kinda it." He halfheartedly admitted, "Please don't look so upset, I'll be back up in a tick. It's the end of the month, isn't it?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with-"

By this point even Evans had taken noticed, and had fallen quiet while he watched, a tad scared.

"I knew it... Damn." He mumbled quietly. He tapped his bandaged wrist, "This, nothing big. Just... Gonna sleep for a little. Please don't let me roll off the couch..."

With that he slumped onto his side, seemingly slipping off into sleep, or something similar. Claire immediately felt for his pulse, fearing the worst. ... Would it have even been there before?

She felt the light beat against her fingers. He did seem... Fine, if the incident wasn't out of the ordinary. She placed her hand on his chest and shook him again. He didn't respond and showed no hint of waking.

She sighed, not entirely sure how to feel. "Well, may as well use this to my advantage and see what you've got under those bandages. Seriously, you look like a damn mummy hybrid." Claire sighed, though smiled softly. She reached for his jacket, and eased it off the best he could with his angle. As out of it as he was, he wasn't really easy to move.

"Hey Evans, can you get me the first aid kit from the bathroom? I have a smaller one under the sink for things like this." Claire requested, trying to give her quite confused little nephew something to occupy himself with.

"Uhmm what's the first aid kit?" He asked after a moment.

"It's that big box with all the bandaids and stuff in it we use when someone's hurt."

Evans nodded, but as he walked off he paused. "Is Mr. Steve hurt?" He asked, concerned.

"No Sugar," She answered, "But I want to make sure he's not secretly sick."

"Isn't that the same thing?" He asked, before retrieving the small kit. Claire gave a quick thanks, before opening the small box up. It was a more portable version, but had some essentials. She took out the small sharp medical scissors. She cut up the right side of the bandages, mildly amused. She pulled some back as she loosened, then paused with a frown.

"What are those?" Evans asked, pointing to the red marks on the side of his exposed torso. She hadn't even removed the bandages from the left side, the most covered part.

"Those are... Bullet wounds, Sugar." Clare explained. "A little bit healed, but they must be hurting Steve a lot."

"Caaan you fix him?" Evans asked, leaning on the sofa arm.

She nodded without hesitation. "Of course I can, I'm Aunty, aren't I? It's going to be a big job though, so when I start, I want you to watch TV until I call you back over, okay dear?"

Evans nodded, counting the obvious wounds. He counted five mean looking marks. "What about his other side?" Evans quizzed.

"We'll have to see." Claire said confidently, tugging the bandages. They came loose, and practically fell from the sides themselves. Claire stiffened once again, feeling herself shake for a moment. Bad memories replayed quickly in her mind.

"Aunty..."

"Yeah, this is..." She began, hesitating.

"He's a dinosaur!"

Claire looked at her nephew, who seemed suddenly ecstatic. It was most certainly not what she expected; she'd been anticipating sheer fear. She glanced back at Steve's arm and chest. His skin brightened about half way across his torso, becoming a dull green in colour. The skin was scale-like, reptilian in a way. Claire's chest tightened as she recognized the texture of that from long ago, after that... Ugh, she didn't want think about it.

Gently, she moved the bandages away from his face. Sure enough, where the bandage covered, it had appeared, although slightly more transparent on his face. Many questions came to her mind.

Finally, her nephews' words registered in her mind. She took a little longer to respond, but managed to compose herself. "... Oh? Well, maybe only part dinosaur, he doesn't look like a Tyrannosaurus."

"Can he be a T-rex, is he a T-rex?!"

"I don't think so, his arms aren't tiny." Claire stated, brushing her hand across his scaled cheek. "I'll patch him up, and then we can have our own dinosaur, right, Evans?"

The red haired man stirred under her touch. His eyes opened only a small fraction, and he seemed unable to actually see in front of himself. He pawed momentarily at the air, grabbing a hold of Claire's arm with his clawed hand.

"Claire, I'm sorry but I..." His words were dazed, and it didn't seem like he was completely conscious.

"What, Steve?" She felt her chest tighten once again as she feared any form of bad revelation.

"I still kinda, really, really like you." He answered quietly, before his eyes closed once again and he slipped back into passing out.

Claire let the words register slowly in her mind, feeling her face flush. "That's alright, I love you too. It's going to be okay Steve. I promise, you'll be alright..."

She sighed deeply; mind swimming as she tried to register what was happening. She'd take care of the bullets first, they seemed manageable. Her gaze traveled to his mutated arm, and a dark, metallic shackle pressing against his wrist.

'This, nothing big...'

He had pointed at his wrist, was that what he meant? It seemed like such a strange connection, but it was clear it wasn't a simple metal bangle. It dug into his scales, she wondered how he could even move that. Ah... Talon.

Ding!

"Oh no, not now!" Claire gasped, looking at the clock. Two Thirty... Dammit Chris, why couldn't you be late for once?!

"Daddy!" Evans squealed, completely ignoring Steve's slumbering state. Claire quickly tried to tell him to shush, but something more urgent sprung to mind.

"Evans! You can't let your Daddy inside, okay? Just meet him at the door." She stated rather than asked. Claire couldn't begin to think of how Chris would react to this, and it would be easier to keep him out of the loop for this one, she figured.

Yet the young boy still looked at her quizzingly. "Why not? Is something wrong?" He asked.

Claire thought for a second, trying to think quickly as the doorbell chimed again. "Uh, your daddy is afraid of dinosaurs!" She stated quickly, almost tripping over her own words. Evans gasped.

"He is?!"

"Yes!" she nodded, trying to convince him. "So don't let him in or he'll be scared of Steve!"

The little boy nodded and gave a yip in conformation, running to the door for his father, considering this time Claire was one hundred percent sure that it would be her brother. Now her stomach twisted with concern.

She sighed, leaning over Steve and giving him a quick kiss on the forehead.

"I don't know how we're going to get out of this, but I hope you know you're stuck with me now."