You demanded it, here it is. Yes, this is the sequel to Sometimes It's Like. I know you all want me to tell you that you know what to expect from this story, since you've read the first one, but... you really don't. This one is much different from the first - and for those who haven't read it already, I suggest you go dig up Sometimes It's Like before reading this.
I'd like to give a huge shout out and major props to andrella07 for being awesome on an epic scale - seriously, this story probably wouldn't have happened without her help.
Timeline issues must be addressed before you read. To accommodate both stories, the Extinction timeline must be altered. Instead of 3 days in the desert, they spent more like a month together - which mainly impacts the first story. Now, we're picking up in Afterlife. And now you all are like, "Holy shit, what?" Yeah, this story jumps to the Afterlife timeline. I have taken a few things from the Afterlife screenplay and incorporated them here, those that have read it will recognize a few things.
Now I'll shut up and let you all read. The story is rated M for a reason: smut, language... you all know the drill when you read my stories. And since you know the drill... you know to review too, right?
Disclaimer: When I go to work and look down at my name tag, it does not say "Sony" or "Paul W.S. Anderson" or... anything even remotely related to Resident Evil. Therefore, I do not own it.
Alice's POV
After a lot of debating and going on a little shred of hope, I sent Claire and the rest of her convoy into the wild unknown. Why? Because I was holding a blood grudge and couldn't rest knowing I got so close to one of the bastards that did this to me without doing something.
The week before, we'd found evidence of a sanctuary in Alaska. The trek with so many people would be difficult at best, impossible at worst. For her, I'd take the challenge, but we just didn't have enough supplies. Vegas was the only place we'd get anything decent to use.
That was when everything started going to shit. Vegas was a horrible idea, not because it was crawling with infected, but because Umbrella found me. Then again… I found them too, so it all balanced out – that's what I've been telling myself for the last eighteen months.
I helped Claire and the others commandeer a helicopter, but I stayed behind in the desert. I had a score to settle and found part of that score underneath the Nevada sand. What I found in that underground complex led me further on my blood soaked path, but somewhere along the way I think I got lost.
Now, I'm trying to find my way back home. I have no idea what happened to the people I sent to Alaska and it's time to right that wrong. It's taken some time and a lot of memory work, since I sent the notebook with them, but I've found the last known coordinates for Arcadia.
Coordinates are the only things here though. That's what I think at first. After spending a bit of time on the beach, I find a sign of life. It takes some searching, but eventually I find myself face to face with a feral… person. At least it's a person, things could be worse.
It's a woman, I realize, as she's trying to rip out my throat with a dirty knife. She's more grungy than said weapon and I wonder just how long she's been up here. We struggle for several long minutes before I manage to knock her out, only to reveal a very familiar face under the grime.
It's Claire.
A kind of guilt that I've never known before pulls at me, but I refuse to give into it. She's completely out of it and will end up hurting one of us if I don't do something, so I elect to tie her up. If the situation wasn't so serious, I'd be more than happy to take advantage of the position I put her in, but that can wait.
There's some sort of bug device on her chest that I manage to get off with some effort. From what I can tell, it had been injecting her with some sort of drug. Looking it over, I can't tell who or what it's from, but instinct screams Umbrella. That can't be though; I had most of their attention on me.
I resolve that I'm going to have to get Claire cleaned up. She's a mess, literally. I've got some extra clothes that I can get her into, which probably won't be easy considering how she reacted the first time we saw each other. Just getting her cleaned up won't be an easy task.
It's well past nightfall when she finally comes to – I feel bad for having hit her so hard. The guilt is easily shaken off and I interrogate her about what had happened. The only answers I get are death glares – God she's good at those - and grunts as she tugs at the ropes I've used to confine her. It doesn't even seem like she knows me anymore, but I swear I see the faintest glimmer of recognition in those green eyes.
Despite the unrestrained malevolent glares and occasional gnashing of teeth, I manage to get Claire cleaned up. I have no idea how long she's been alone up here, but it had to have been at least a few months for her to get in this state.
She's worn herself out by the time I finish up getting her clean and into fresh clothes with all the struggling she did. I'm fairly tired myself, because despite being malnourished she put up one hell of a fight.
The next two days pass in utter silence. I leave Claire tied up and her glares only grow more venomous because of it. That doesn't faze me though. After 177 days without any sort of human contact, Claire's presence – though it was a presence of stubborn, suspicious silence – was welcome.
When we stop to refuel, I help her out of the cockpit. She doesn't struggle nearly as much anymore, which is a relief. Resigning herself to staring daggers isn't nearly as dangerous her trying to fight me at every turn.
Whatever that scarab had pumped into her, she's going through withdrawals like a drug addict. The symptoms seem to be lessening and I take that as a good sign. Maybe once she gets out of the fog of addiction she'll start to remember. If I can manage a good look, her eyes don't seem quite as hazy as when I first found her.
It's still pretty early in the evening, but we're going to stay here for the night. It's an open area and I couldn't see any threats from above. I sit Claire down by the airplane. "Stay put," I instruct, earning a well practiced glare in response. "Yeah… that's what I thought."
After she's settled, I climb onto the plane long enough to pull out one of my bags. Tossing it ungracefully to the ground, I follow it down in short order. The first piece of business is a perimeter around the area.
It's absolutely rudimentary, but it works effectively; using spikes tied with fishing line and a series of bells, I set up a 60 foot circle around our little camp. When the world ends, you have to go back to basics. If anything trips over the line, I'll know.
Once the perimeter is set up, I get a small fire going. It's enough to provide a bit of warmth and cook up some food. Claire has been watching the whole time and I can almost see the gears in her head desperately trying to work.
Still, she's silent as the grave. I keep going through the motions, putting a can of soup by the fire to warm it up. At least when it's lukewarm it's easier to choke down. After a few moments, I retrieve a spoon from the pack and grab the slightly heated can.
This time, Claire isn't as apprehensive when I move closer to her. The first time I tried to get her to eat was like a clash of the titans. She was starved, I knew it, but that damn stubborn streak… The first couple times I offered her food, she tried to bite my hands off. When I didn't back off, I probably would have been better off trying to pull her teeth, because she utterly refused the food. Luckily, hunger won out in the end and when I started eating, her interest in the food skyrocketed.
Tonight, she shows mild interest. It's more than I've gotten so far. She's not pretending to ignore me, but her eye is on the can – not me. "Time to eat up." I spoon out some of the soup, offering it to her and she eagerly takes the bite.
I don't have her tied to the plane, so technically she could feed herself, but I left her hands bound and that would make it much more difficult. Instead of making her struggle like that, I just feed her.
It's hard to say how long she'd been without food or what she'd been scrounging by on, but her appetite seems to be insatiable. I let her have the whole can of soup; she needs the food more than I do. When we find more supplies, I'll eat.
This isn't me. Well, it is… but it's not. Back in the Nevada desert, Claire started digging up a side of me that had been long forgotten – the side that was caring and compassionate, that cared if other people besides myself survived. When we parted ways, I closed myself off again because it was just easier. Finding the redhead in a state like this – not knowing who she is or seemingly anything else for that matter – has brought back that caring side with a vengeance.
She doesn't even know who I am, what we had. Do I even know what we had? It was… unexplainable, but it was incredibly strong.
Once the soup is gone, Claire completely loses interest. Her attention turns away from me and the fire, looking off into the growing darkness. I toss the can aside and use some of our water supply to clean off the spoon before packing it away.
For a while, I just watch her. She's thinner than I remember, but that's due to the lack of nourishment. The guilt I felt on the first day I found her – for just sending her off without knowing what was waiting – is trying to creep up on me again. Not even the guilt I feel for letting the world fall to hell is as crushing as that and I have to keep forcing it away even as it threatens to consume me.
Finally, I reach over placed my hand on her cheek, guiding her attention back to me. She doesn't flinch when I touch her anymore and all I can hope for it that it's a sign of some sort of trust. "Claire…" I say her name, but it doesn't spark the recognition I wished for.
I search her face for any signs, even the littlest indication that she remembers something – anything. There's nothing to see though, no matter how hard I look. She's just staring back at me; at least she's not glaring.
My focus settles on her lips, she's so damn close. I'm the calm and collected one, nothing ever gets to me. Except for Claire. She doesn't remember that right now.
Without thinking, I lean in and capture her lips with my own. She feels frozen in place, unsure of what to do. I wait for her to respond, but there's nothing. She knows better than that.
I remember exactly what it's like to have her respond. It's been a year and a half, but I suppose my memory is also my curse.
I can remember how she feels under my hands, skin slick with sweat… the way she moans when I hit the right spot… the way she kisses me, when she knows she shouldn't…
"Alice, please," she's practically begging me as her hips buck against my hand.
I've been cupping her, teasing her up to that point. She pretends to hate the teasing, but I'm wise to that act. She thinks she'll get what she wants faster if she pretends to not like it. I know the truth: she loves every second of it.
Tonight I've been just a little more teasing than normal. After all, I had to pay her back for that last stunt, touching me when she knew full well it wasn't allowed. She's going to be sore in the morning from all the rough treatment and tomorrow night she'll be even more sensitive – which will also be part of the payback.
After a couple more pleas, I indulge her. As I slip my fingers inside her, she sobs out a sigh of relief, arching into my hand just to feel more. A faint whimper leaves her as I change up from my usual, taking my sweet time. All I'm doing is building up the pressure between her legs and it's driving her crazy.
"Alice." She's more desperate this time, those beautiful green eyes imploring me for more.
Maybe now she'll rethink breaking the rules. Not all torture is painful, but it can all be made incredibly uncomfortable, especially when I'm in control.
I can feel her grinding against my hand, restless for more than what I'm offering. She's definitely gotten the message that I was trying to send. I'm the one in control and she's not supposed to be breaking my rules. I'd make her say those exact words to me, but I highly doubt she's capable of forming a coherent thought, let alone speaking.
I finally pick up the pace, no longer teasing her. Instead, it's a sharp contrast; it's what she's used to. My name leaves her in a loud moan as I pump my fingers inside her roughly. She can always manage to adapt to the change, even if I surprise her at first. She knows to expect the unexpected from me. I should find a way to change that, but if she's always ready for me to do something different and unexpected… it's hard to catch her off guard.
With the new rough pace and how sensitive I'd already made her, she's crashing over the edge of oblivion in no time.
But this isn't my Claire. Not yet, at least. She doesn't remember anything. With that thought in mind, I pull back from her a bit. She still doesn't know how to react, but at least she's not pulling away from me.
When we eventually settle down, even though she doesn't voice it, I can see she doesn't want me to go far tonight. That's perfectly fine, I honestly don't want to go far either. In fact, I don't want to be away from her at all.
For the first time, I pull Claire into my arms and let her fall asleep there. It's as comforting to me as it is to her. After thinking I had lost something that I didn't even realize was so precious to me, I can't let her go.
In another life, we wouldn't be here. Where would we be? Safe at home, relaxing in bed after a hot shower without a care in the world? Maybe… but in another life, I wouldn't have her.