Alrighty, amidst an increasingly large pile-up of schoolwork, I MADE myself write chapter 3...although this is more like a half-of-a-chapter 3 lol!
I warned you guys about the short chapters, and I wasnt exaggerating ;)
I stopped where I did in this chapter in order to include a punch of humor that I felt the story needed. And I felt it was a good place to end Chris's POV. I will most probably pick up Alice in ch 4. This story is slow to progress, I know, and I apologize. But I LOVE doing things like this-little snippits of experiences with the characters.
Ok, I'm sure didn't click on this to read my babbling, so please, ignore me and move on to the story! (Seriously...STOP reading the Author's Note already!) ;)
Consciousness greeted Chris in the form of an agonizing headache a mere few minutes after passing out. He was dimly aware of his feet scraping the floor as he was dragged down an overly-lit corridor. The blinding white only exacerbated the painful throbbing in his temples. With each stinging pulse his consciousness threatened to falter.
Voices echoed around him, though he could not shake the fog from his mind long enough to comprehend the conversation. He was aware of the strong arms that supported him, carefully avoiding his injured (not to mention burning) shoulder.
He forced himself to crack open an eye.
A burly-looking man, dressed in the familiar white shared by the released captives of Umbrella, was practically dragging him along, mumbling to himself incomprehensively.
Another man walked beside him, and through his blurry vision Chris could just make out the outline of a blond being carried in him arms.
Jill.
Chris closed his eyes as the memories of his former partner buzzed in his brain, making it even harder to focus on remaining awake. At one point in time, they had been close friends, excellent partners, and there had been the chance, then, for something more…
But their military duty came first, and that 'something' had never happened.
Maybe it had been for the best. But that did not mean he didn't still care.
Eyes hidden beneath the dark veils of their lids, he could feel exhaustion catching up to him once again. He just wanted to sleep…
And he would have, if the man carrying him hadn't not-so-gently lowered him onto a cold metal table with an irritated grunt.
Then he smelled it…spice and salt-water…
His eyes creaked open and Alice's face was hovering over his.
"Chris? Can you hear me?" Her voice was loud, and he wasn't sure if it was because she was so close or if she was actually yelling to get his attention.
But now his headache was unbearable.
"Yeah, yeah I hear you….lower the volume a bit okay? I feel like I've been hit by a truck….made of bullets and psychic energy…." His mumbled response was meant to be funny….but as soon as he said it he knew it sounded all too sarcastic.
Not to mention accusing.
He saw Alice's eyes narrow a bit before lowering away from his.
"Uh, sorry…I didn't mean to sound…like an asshole. Head's just killing me. I'll uh…shut up…" He could barely think long enough to make out the apology, but even through the throbbing in his head he could formulate a realization that made his eyes widen.
A woman had just put him on a guilt-trip.
By just looking at him a certain way.
That had never happened before.
Alice was fast becoming the most intriguing-slash-confusing person he'd ever met.
And as his still blurry vision took in the flash of a small needle and thread in her hand, he wondered if she was about to exact revenge for his smartass comment under the guise of stitching up his arm.
"Please tell me you've got some lidocaine."
I'm sorry if I made Chris into a bit of a jerk here, but I tried to imagine how I would feel if I'd been shot and was suffering a migraine brought on by blood-loss and psychic aftermath. Add confusion (this chick is PSYCHIC?) and emotional uncertainty? Yeah, I'd be a lil irritable. Dont worry, he'll be back to his quiet, charming, adorable, kissable...um...you get it. ;) Soon. LOL