Title: Wage Your Wars (1/11)

Fandom: Resident Evil (movie-verse)

Pairing: Alice Abernathy/Claire Redfield

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Claire had loved Alice once. Maybe she even still did. And she couldn't stand the idea of leaving the last person she'd ever known behind to travel the desolate world alone.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil, or Claire and Alice.

Notes: This will be super angsty. You've been warned.

XXX

You'll hold me like you'll never let me go
And beside the salty water, I could hold you close,
But you are far too beautiful to love me.

In Memoriam - The Oh Hello's

XXX

Alice's POV

"Where are we going?"

The words came from one Claire Redfield. Alice turned over her shoulder, momentarily glancing at the other woman in the second seat of the plane. Her face was close to the window, and breath from her mouth created opaque clouds on the glass as she stared out over the coastline. It was the first thing Alice had heard the redhead say that day, and when she had glanced at her watch just a moment before, the time had been 16:06:17.

"A little ways farther down the coast. We're going to stop in Northern California, about 20 more minutes from here," Alice explained. As she spoke, Claire turned to face her, resting her cheek against the glass. Her hair was thrown up into a messy ponytail, and small red rivers fell into her face and across her cheek. Alice gave her a slight smile before she turned back towards the front window, allowing the plane to begin descending slightly.

Claire had looked totally exhausted, once-emerald eyes a faded, murky color that reminded Alice of the few plants that had managed to survive in the American desert. Her skin was no longer tan, and her cheeks were gaunt. Even when she clenched her jaw, which she often did, Alice felt as if she could grab it and the bone would crumble to dust in her fist.

Alice had sent Claire, K-Mart, and the eleven other remaining members of the convoy off in a helicopter nearly 19 months ago. They had been headed towards Alaska, a town called Arcadia, which was supposed to provide them with nothing but positives—food, shelter, a lack of the infection. That had been the most painful moment of her life, watching that helicopter take off. But she had known it was for the best. Or, at least, she had thought it was at the time.

After she and a collection of clones had taken down three of the five strongest remaining Umbrella cooperation headquarters, Alice had left the drastically-reduced amount of remaining clones in the Death Valley facility to attempt to create a cure. Then she had set off on her own, heading towards Alaska, finally free of her horrible superhuman abilities, hoping to find a chance to start over.

What she had found stuck a bone-shattering blow, because she had stupidly allowed herself to hope too hard. As she turned the plane in a large banking arc, memories flooded her like ice water.

Alice walked slowly and quietly through the maze of airplanes. The air was still but crisp with cold. She tugged her coat tightly around her body, crossing her arms over her chest. There was nothing here but the skeleton planes and silence. It was disconcerting, to say the least, and Alice was thankful for the weight of her guns at her hips and between her shoulders.

Arcadia had been a lie. Or it had been true at first, then succumbed to its fate like the rest of the world already had. The thought made her sick, but the realization she could not see the helicopter made her sicker. Had Claire and the others even made it? Alice hoped they had, prayed to a god she knew she no longer believed in that they had made it, and just moved on to a place where they could set up camp. Maybe she would stumble upon them eventually, and they would welcome her back. Maybe Claire would welcome her back.

The opposite side of her brain teased her with poisonous suggestions. What if they had never made it at all? What if they never found enough fuel? What if the helicopter crashed? The mere idea brought acid to a boil in Alice's guts, but also a slight sense of relief. If they had died, at least they would never have arrived to witness the disappointment.

Alice sighed, tearing the thoughts away from where they had stapled themselves to her. They still ached in her skin, but it was a dull feeling, more frustrating than debilitating. When she stopped listening to them, the sound of the ocean hit her instead.

Alice walked towards it, the wall of planes decreasing the closer to the sound she traveled. The first thing she saw of the beach was a rocky coast and a deep blue-green expanse of water, each wave capped with a foamy volcano of white. Then, she spotted the Osprey, dark and looming with a sinister Umbrella logo printed on its side. Despite herself, Alice ran towards it, hoping beyond hope she would find a sign of where the convoy had gone.

The chopper was empty, except for a few random items scattered on the floor or shoved under seats. One of them was the small red, leather moleskin Alice distinctly remembered giving to K-Mart, the one that lead them here in the first place. She reached to pick it up and realized her hands were shaking. She held the book tightly in her hands in order to still them. The pages only began quivering in her grasp, not pausing the trembles in her palms much at all.

Something hard and sharp filled her throat. Alice swallowed around it and felt it slice her vocal chords. Her lower eyelids felt heavy and warm, but she refused to let the tears escape. No. That weakness was something she could not give into.

Breathing in and out heavily to calm her emotions, Alice walked over to a log near the water and sat down. The backs of her thighs ached immediately as the wood dug into them. With fumbling fingers, she dug around in the inside pocket of her coat. Finally, she found her video camera and pulled it out. She turned it on after setting it to face her.

"May 3rd," Her voice sounded brittle like old glass, both from lack of use and the tears clogging her body. Alice refused to clear her throat, "19:30 hours. Arcadia," The word came out slightly more bitter than she had originally intended, but it tasted sour on her tongue and she wanted nothing more than to spit it out as quickly as possible, "No such place exists. Just an empty field...and a beach," She sighed deeply, looking across the slowly pulsing waves, "But we all heard the transmissions. Someone must have sent them," She thought she heard something distantly behind her, or perhaps was struck by the feeling of something watching her. Whatever the cause, a feeling of unease hit her suddenly, "Someone...must have brought all these people here. But why? Where did they go?"

Alice rose from the log and gripped the camera. Her voice sounded more exhausted than it ever had before, "Day 177, signing off." She swallowed, looking at her own tired image staring back at her, the dark bags huddled beneath her eyes and the wrinkles joining hands at her lips had finally started to show now that the T-Virus was out of her body. It only succeeded in making her look older, weaker.

"I don't know if I can do this much longer," Alice admitted, "What if I'm the last one? What if there's no one else?" Voicing the thought sent a new spike of cold through her, all the way down into her bones, "No one to watch these tapes. Is this my punishment? For letting all this happen?"

This time, there was no way she could fight the tears. Right as the first one rose to exit her eyelids, something caught her blurry peripheral vision. This time, she was sure of it. Someone had just run past her. Alice jumped to her feet, shoving the camera into her pocket as she took off. "Wait! Wait! Please! Stop!" Yelling hurt her throat. Her voice sounded desperate. The air stung her teary eyes as she took off after the figure in a full sprint.

She came to a stumbling halt in the middle of the hallway of airplanes. Weakly, she called out a 'hello'. For a moment, there was no response. Then something creaked behind her and she pulled out her guns as she turned. Nothing. She looked around, eyes narrowed. Stillness and silence. Maybe she was going crazy.

Then suddenly, something collided with her back.

Alice let out an involuntary yelp and twisted violently. A knife stabbed towards her chest, and Alice dropped her weapons to grip the attacker's wrists, prepared to shatter them. Hard grunting breaths escaped the mouth of the person, and they flipped their head harshly, forcing tangles of hair from their face.

Olive green eyes met Alice's, and time froze.

The women stared at each other. The attacker, dirty and battered, was paused in a snarl, her lips torn back, her eyes wide and wild and fearful. Alice still gripped her wrists, tugging on them and pulling the woman up to stand on her toes. The single word fell from her lips before she could even think it clearly, "Claire?"

"Alice," the other woman responded, breathless and shocked. Only then did Alice release Claire's wrists.

With a shaking hand, Alice reached out, touching her hand to Claire's grimy cheek. She was still as beautiful as the brunette remembered. Alice wanted to kiss her lips despite the mess. She wanted to hold her and touch her and never leave her again. And she almost did, until she met Claire's eyes again.

They were cloudy and paled, agony curling through them like a venomous snake. And Alice knew then that it wouldn't be appropriate or reciprocated. Claire was terrified and confused, and by the looks of it, alone and without adequate supplies.

"Oh Claire," Alice whispered.

Alice had given Claire a sponge and filled a bucket of water for her. The woman had cleaned herself thoroughly and dressed in cleaner clothes that Alice had found for her in the back seat of her plane. Only after Alice had tended to her needs did the brunette allow herself to ask the younger woman questions. Claire had answered them that night reluctantly, and her eyes had stared off into the distance as though she was not fully in the same place as Alice. The rest of the convoy had died over the previous months. Many froze in the winters. Others died of disease. There was no infection—at least not from humans. However, two or three members of the convoy had been attacked by animals under the influence of the T-Virus, and had eventually turned and been killed by Claire herself. She was the last one left. They had found no one else. Just bones and the ghosts of old campfires. Anyone else who had tried to make their living here had also underestimated the winters, or they had simply moved on to somewhere farther South.

That night, and the explanations Claire had given, was the most the redhead had spoken in the weeks since she and Alice had reunited. Often, she only asked very simple questions, and answered Alice's with nods or as few words as she could possibly manage. It was disconcerting. In the desert, Claire had been fiery and passionate, filled with a warrior's spirit and a fierce desire to lead people and protect them. Now she was just a hollow shell, filled with nothing but the ghosts of the old Claire Redfield.

Alice only hoped that she could find a way to resurrect her.

XXX

The Yakovlev Yak-52 touched down in a field about a third of a mile from the Northern California coast. When Alice pushed up the entrance to the cockpit, she could smell the sea salt and thought she could very faintly hear the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. She climbed down off the wing with grace, and offered a hand to Claire to help her down. The redhead didn't accept it, instead hopping off and landing on her feet with an unceremonious thud.

They both grabbed their packs, and Alice motioned with her head, "Follow me." Claire nodded curtly, and they left the plane. Alice walked with perfect direction, knowing quite well where to go. She had seen the bungalow from above and her direction-oriented brain had memorized the route to it from the field. She pulled up a map in her mind and followed the highlighted trails. Their feet crunched over dry grass and weeds. Wind danced around them, tugging at their hair with damp, persistent fingers and brushing stinging thumbs across their eyes.

It was a cold May, even for Alice in her parka. Claire had only a her vest, and Alice could hear her teeth chattering from four feet away. She walked a little faster. Surely there would be blankets or something in the bungalow she could give to Claire to warm her up. She listened for the sound of the redhead's footsteps, making sure she was keeping up.

After another minute or two, they reached the small house. Alice held open the door and allowed Claire to enter first. The redhead did not acknowledge the gesture, and Alice felt an instinctive flare of annoyance before she flattened it down, berating herself. She had no right to be annoyed. Claire was shaken to the core from the past several months. It wasn't fair for Alice to feel that sharp stab of bitterness. She closed the door tightly behind her as she followed Claire in.

Before her stood a small but well-decorated living room and a kitchen that had probably once been bright and welcoming. All of the colors were faded and tired from a lack of care and human presence . It was much more ideal than some places Alice had stayed in the past, however, and she welcomed it. Her first order of business was to find Claire something warm. She searched the bedroom first, and found both a heavy, tribal-print fleece blanket and a turtle-neck sweater. She wrinkled her nose at the garment, but it was better than the redhead freezing to death.

Claire was sitting on the living room floor, feeding a fire in the fire place. Alice offered her the blanket and the sweater. Claire gave her a nod and a grateful smile that didn't quite meet her eyes in response. She shrugged off her vest, pulled the sweater on over her gray tank top, then put her vest back on. She pulled the blanket around her shoulders, then after a second or two, she scooted closer to the fire and offered the other side of the fairly large blanket. Alice declined. It was fairly warm now that the fire was going. And besides, she didn't want to crowd the younger woman.

Memories of hot desert nights spent with Claire's even hotter body writhing naked and sweating against her still haunted her, burning through her blood. She still felt something for the younger woman. She had carried it around with her for all these months. It was what had brought her back to Claire even though she could easily have stayed away.

She cared about the former convoy leader deeply, but she didn't want to rush into her feelings. Claire was still detached and vulnerable, and Alice knew pushing the other woman in her current emotional state could break her completely. The not speaking and the heartbreakingly sad eyes were enough for now.

Alice, in her old life, hadn't often been the one to make the first move, anyway. She could wait. She could wait forever for Claire Redfield, if she had to.

XXX

"I'll sleep on the floor," Alice offered.

There was only one bed in the small bungalow. Alice hadn't even thought about it, not while she and Claire were in front of the fire warming up, not while she was barricading the doors and the windows. It was only now that they stood in the room, the only source of light coming from their flashlights, that the realization hit.

Claire sighed, shaking her head. She glanced at Alice and surprisingly, she spoke, "That's not fair. I'll sleep on the floor."

"Claire, I can handle it. You've slept on the ground and in plane cockpits every day for almost two years. I can handle one night," Alice argued back, managing to bite down her surprise at hearing Claire's voice for more than just a couple of words.

A frown tugged at the redhead's lips. Alice could see it even through the faint beams their flashlights scattered across the room, "I'm sleeping on the floor. That's final." She even sat down on the floor and started laying out her blanket. Alice wanted to literally pick the woman up and throw her on the bed.

And kiss her until their lips were bruised and take her clothes off and...

Woah. Where had that come from?

Alice kept her expression passive, but internally she shook off the thoughts with a force. She knew damn well where they had come from, but she couldn't let that distract her. God. Hadn't she told herself just a short while earlier that she couldn't break Claire more by pressuring her? Her voice was sharp, possibly sharper than she had intended, "Claire Rebecca Redfield, you are not sleeping on the floor!"

Claire looked startled, mouth hanging open slightly. Her voice wavered, "You...you remember my middle name?"

"Well, uh, yeah. I guess I do," Alice replied, hoping that Claire couldn't see the blush she could feel spreading across her cheeks. Alice had always been observant. She paid attention to every detail. Always had. Sometimes her memory of conversations and little quirks and certain words or actions confused people. They occasionally even freaked out about it a little. There was hardly anything they could tell Alice without her forgetting it. She carried many secrets from past friends and lovers hidden away inside of her, because she couldn't bring herself to try to forget those stories.

Claire, however, seemed only surprised and perhaps a little pleased by the memorization. She looked between Alice and the bed, and pursed her lips before she voiced her thoughts, "It's a queen-size. We could, erm, share?" This time it was Claire's turn to blush, and she looked down at her hands.

Alice swallowed thickly. An entire night in a single bed with Claire Redfield. She set her resolve. She could do this without jumping the younger woman.

"Okay. We'll share."

Alice hoped desperately that she wouldn't regret this decision.

The Oh Hello's album 'Through the Deep, Dark Valley' was definitely my soundtrack for planning/writing this fic. I definitely recommend them. They're great.

And, like always...

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