Funeral Games – Chapter 29
It was past midnight when the BSAA finally cleared them to go. Jake wasn't sure exactly how long he had been up – they'd zigzagged back and forth across a few time zones, and he was not prepared to calculate how many hours had been gained or lost. He only knew that he was exhausted now, that Sherry could barely keep her eyes open. That the goddamn BSAA had dragged their feet and delayed their release out of the hope that, in a fog of sleep deprivation, one of them might let something slip about just what the hell had happened back in the Mediterranean.
No one had said as much, naturally, but Jake knew how these things worked. He didn't even hold it against them. They had just been going through the motions.
Eventually, there had been no more excuses or causes for delay. An unmarked plane had dropped them off in DC. Not at one of the major airports, but on a little regional airstrip to the west of the city. A car – unmarked as well, and with a driver who looked like he knew ten forms of unarmed combat but also knew at least that many methods of being discreet – was waiting for them.
Sherry had held up pretty well under Chris Redfield's blustering and just-one-more-things, but as soon as she was buckled up and settled in, her head dropped against the back of the seat and she was out like a light. She folded in on herself as she slipped into a deeper sleep, her shoulders bowing forward, her hands settling in her lap. When they passed under a streetlamp, the light coming in through the car window made her eyelashes look gossamer against her cheeks.
Jake wasn't too proud to admit that he had been looking forward to catching a little shuteye himself, but when he saw Sherry like that it aroused an unexpected protective instinct in him. He needed very little sleep, really, he thought as he watched her. He could stay up a bit longer.
They took the drive in silence. Sherry didn't move, save for the occasional twitch of her eyes behind the tissue of their lids as she slipped in and out of REM sleep. The sun was coming up by the time the car pulled up across the street from Sherry's building. People were already out and moving around the streets, beginning their days, going through the motions of their lives. Jake realized that he'd never told the driver where to go, but he had brought them here without so much as a glance at the GPS.
Jake was irritated by the presumption, by the fact that the BSAA probably still had ears on him. He could handle the thought that Chris Redfield had spied on him while he puttered aimlessly around the condo during Sherry's workday. That he had seen Jake's porn habits and listened to him piss. What he could not deal with was knowing that someone might be listening even now, to what came next; that he would be privy to Jake's groping apologies, both of their fumbling attempts to regain equilibrium.
Sherry was still asleep, blissfully unaware or else so far ahead of him that she already had the entire matter settled. Jake couldn't tell which it was, but neither would have surprised him. When the dome light switched on, she came awake. She stretched, then then her gaze focused on him. She watched him for a long moment, her face a mask, nothing there to indicate what might be on her mind. Without a word, she stepped out into the chilly dawn.
As they crossed the street, Sherry reached out casually and took his arm. She didn't cling to him. Her hand merely touched the underside of his elbow, where it remained for a moment, a comforting weight, before dropping away again.
Jake glanced at her. He had no idea what she might be thinking.
Back inside, Sherry waited for him while he got the mail. The little box next to the elevator with their unit number on it was stuffed full of bills and coupons accumulated over the days they had been gone. Jake wrapped the former up in a flyer from Burger King just so they'd be out of sight. It wasn't like he didn't remember what had gotten them both into this mess: his stubborn need to go chasing after his father's dirty money, no cleaner now for the fact that the man himself had made a grand gesture of cleaning up his act.
Jake was ashamed of it, now.
They headed upstairs in silence. Jake was glad everything in the condo was in order; it was nice to come home to a clean place after being away for a while. Sherry made a slow circuit of the living room, touching Jake's scarf where it hung on a hook by the door, trailing her hand over the back of a chair, as if she had been away for years.
Jake hadn't moved from his spot by the door. He had no idea if he was supposed to say something, do something. If he was even supposed to be here. Someone had swaddled his thoughts in cotton batting, dulling their edges. It seemed utterly pointless to try to make them cut into the issue at hand.
At last, Sherry turned to him. She did it abruptly, about-facing on her heels and fixing him with an unblinking stare. There was no mistaking that look: she'd made up her mind about something.
"You must be furious at me," she said. "I'm not sure I can explain, but I can try. Will you let me try?"
Jake felt his brow contract. There was a long moment when he couldn't, for the life of him, understand what she was trying to say to him.
It came back to him all at once: Her disappearance, the messages she had left. How he had veered wildly from panic, to depression, to listlessness. Then to anger, yes, but only at himself and his own inadequacies. Only now was he realizing it, but it still wasn't too late. He had never really been mad at her for leaving.
A strange sound reached Jake's ears. It took him a moment to realize that it had come from him, and that it was laughter. His head fell back, thumping against the wall.
Sherry didn't laugh. She didn't make any sound at all. She stood watching him, rigid and brittle, looking as if she might collapse at any moment, but when she did she would leave an unmoving cast of herself hanging in mid-air where she had standing. A phantom doppelganger, as hard to the touch as if it were carved out of stone.
The abrupt storm of laughter passed as quickly as it had come on. Jake could no longer feel the emotion that had triggered it, but he knew it must have been an intense one. In its absence he felt suddenly calm, empty, somehow comforted.
"I'm not mad," he said. "Maybe I should be. I think I even could be if I really put my mind to it. But I'm so relieved that I'm not. So let's just leave it at that."
"I should have told you everything from the start," Sherry said. "I don't even know why I didn't."
Jake sighed. "When I woke up and you were gone, I wasn't even surprised. Everyone leaves, that's what I thought. And it was almost a relief to me that you had finally gotten around to leaving too. But then I realized something else. Something was different this time, and I knew, without a doubt, you were going to come back."
"I couldn't have stayed gone," Sherry said. "It is my house."
When Jake laughed this time, the hysterical edge had gone out of it. It sounded genuine; it felt real. He saw Sherry relax a little at the sound.
"You found what you were looking for," he said. "So I guess it all worked out."
"What about you?" Sherry said. "You found something too, didn't you?"
That brought Jake up short. He felt something like a small, smooth stone turn over inside of him. It seemed he wasn't quite ready to talk about it yet, but Sherry was looking at him with such tender anticipation that he figured he ought to come up with something.
"I found him." His voice sounded a little thin to his own ears, a little strained, as if he'd had to force the words out.
Sherry started forward at once, not even pausing to let what he had said sink in. She came towards him, stretching out her hand. "Oh, Jake…"
"Wait," Jake said. He didn't draw away from her, but it was only because he consciously stopped himself in time. "Before you get all touchy-feely, you should know something. I let him take that thing you gave me."
That brought Sherry up short. Her brow furrowed and her hand dropped abruptly back to her side. Once there, it curled into a fist and twisted around a few times. Not angry, or disappointed. Only thoughtful.
"Why?" she said at last.
"I wish I knew," Jake admitted. He chuckled again. It seemed beyond absurd now. Commedia dell'arte with zombies and tentacles. "He didn't ask. I made him take it. Just to get back at him, I guess. I'm sorry."
She was quiet for a long time. At least, it seemed that way to Jake. It might as well have been an eternity.
"I worked hard for that," she said at last, quietly. "I almost died. It wasn't yours to give away, to him or anyone else."
"I know," Jake said. "I'm sorry. I mean it. I'm a fuck up—"
"Quiet," she told him sharply. "I'm not going to get mad at you just because you want me to. I'm not going to hate you just because you think that's the way things should be. If you gave it to him, you had your reasons. If you wanted him to have it, it's because he was the right person."
"For a second, it seemed like it," Jake said. "But it was only a second."
Sherry didn't say anything. She wasn't buying it, and Jake had to admit that it was a pretty unconvincing lie. He hadn't even managed to fool himself with it, not for long at least.
"Fine," he said at last, through gritted teeth. "I did it to impress him. I did it so he'd remember who I was. Is that what you want to hear?"
"It's a little better," Sherry admitted.
"I thought it was worse."
Sherry sighed. "At least it's going to be safe with him. That's all I care about right now. Let's fight later, after I've had eight hours to sleep on it."
Jake knew that was probably the best he was going to get. It was more than he had hoped for, that was for certain.
"Take as much time as you need, babe," he said. "I'm just glad you're back."
"I know you are." Sherry watched him steadily. "I'll come to bed in a few minutes. I need to get cleaned up first. I've been able to smell myself since somewhere over the Atlantic."
"I didn't notice," Jake said. "Honest."
"You're sweet. Don't stay up too long, all right?"
"Just a few minutes," Jake said, and he watched her move back down the hallway. After a moment, he heard the shower come on, and at last he allowed himself to relax.
Maybe everything would go back to the way it had been. Sherry could return to work, Jake to finding ways to fill his days. It no longer seemed like something to be endured.
He would be able to live like that. He'd seen the alternative.
Jake didn't want to give his father the credit, but he did think finally meeting the man had something to do with it. Wesker had no one, and for all his refined affectations it had shown from the first. There had been something of the rusty and disused about him, like a voice that had become unaccustomed to human speech.
It hadn't been so long since Jake had thought that there were very few things that were worth doing if you couldn't do them alone. But he'd seen now just where that kind of thinking got you. Maybe it wasn't so bad, then, to have Sherry around. She curbed his worst instincts.
He'd have to make it sound a little better than that when he explained it all to her. It would have to be romantic. No, not romantic exactly. Sherry didn't go in for grand gestures, even if they weren't entirely empty. Big emotional speeches didn't impress her, not the way hard, measurable facts did.
She expected results, and delivering results was exactly what Jake did. It wasn't exactly a love affair for the ages, but, hell, it worked for them. And as far as Jake was concerned, that was good enough.
Though he was determined now to fight for them, for whatever it was that they'd had and could have again, Jake didn't think this was the ideal time. He wasn't sure if he should follow Sherry back to the bedroom or give her space for now. In the end, he decided he should probably at least look in on her, make sure she didn't need anything.
The bedroom was dark when he peeked around the doorframe, and Sherry was under the covers. Jake started to withdraw, but then he heard her voice, very clear and wide awake.
"Come here a second."
"Yeah, babe?" Jake came inside a step.
"Don't creep around like that. I'll never get any sleep that way." Her hand emerged from beneath the sheet and she stroked Jake's side of the bed. "Come lay down."
Jake stripped off his shirt and dropped it in the hamper. He got into bed without touching her, as far over on his side as he could without falling out and onto the floor. His fingers curled at his sides, clawing the sheets up into ridges.
"Honestly…" Sherry sighed. She turned over on her side so that she was up against him. "I told you, I'm not mad. But I'm going to be if you keep acting like that."
Jake slipped an arm around her, pulling her close. "All right. I'm sorry. Let's just say what we mean from now on, okay?"
"Sounds good," Sherry replied. "You start."
"I love you," Jake said, without even thinking about it.
Sherry's hand rested against his arm; he felt her fingers curl with pleasure. "That's a good start," she said quietly. She was quiet for a moment, then she added, "You know, when I was out there, I thought I might die…"
"Babe." Jake sighed. "I should have been there."
"No," Sherry replied. "That's not what I meant. I only wanted to tell you… it was worth it."
"You mean, that thing I lost?" Jake said. Not lost, though. Given away, as if it were his to give.
Sherry shook her head. "That was good, I have to admit. I did a pretty good job back there. But that wasn't what I meant."
"You did a good job with the BSAA, too," Jake said. "I meant to tell you that. You've been killing it lately, babe."
She stroked her palm over his chest, tracing the hollow under his collarbone with her fingertips. "I like to hear you say that. Maybe even more than when you say you love me, I like to hear that."
"They're both true," Jake told her. He reached for her hand, captured it and pinned it against his chest.
Sherry was quiet for a while. Jake had begun to wonder if she had dropped off to sleep, but then she spoke again.
"If they made a cure, would you take it?"
"I don't know," Jake said. "I never thought about it. I never had any symptoms. Would you want me to?"
"Yes…"she said. It was barely a whisper.
Jake scowled up at the ceiling. Sherry had a lot more on her mind than the dry and perfunctory business of vaccination. This time, though, it didn't seem like a matter of secrets; it was just his fault for not getting it.
"Then of course I would," he said. "I'd do it for you. I mean, it's not a big deal, right? Why make a huge thing of it."
"That's what I think, too," Sherry replied. She seemed relieved. "Thanks, Jake. You make me feel so much better."
Her cheek was pressed up against his arm, and he felt her lips curl into a smile. Then she kicked his leg playfully under the blankets and draped her arm around him.
"You know what people like to do after they almost die?"
Jake turned to look at her. He could only see the top of her head from his vantage point, but he had the feeling her smile had turned mischievous. This was a surprise, but definitely one he could live with.
"Go to church?"
"Something like that."
She kicked her leg over him and straightened up so that she was sitting across his hips. Jake's cock twitched in his jeans. He'd been feeling sluggish and off-balance since they got home, and it was good to see that at least one part of him wasn't slow to get the message.
He set a hand on Sherry's waist to steady her. "I thought you were tired."
"I'm so tired I don't remember what it's like to feel awake." She raked the fingers of one hand back through her hair, pushing it out of her face, as she bent over him to demand a kiss. "But if I fall asleep now I'll miss all the fun."
As she straightened up again, she hooked her hands under the hem of her tee-shirt and stripped it off over her head. She winged it towards the hamper with a flick of her wrist, a movement Jake saw only out of the corner of his eye. He was focused instead on the inclination of her chin, the twisting of her waist, the upward curve of her breasts. It was as if he were seeing it all or the first time.
Slowly, a blush crept over her cheeks. "Quit it. You make me embarrassed when you watch me like that."
"Sorry, babe," Jake said. "Guess I don't know my own strength."
He tightened his grip on her waist, lifting her up so he could turn her over onto her back. Sherry laughed and slapped his shoulder. "Not fair. I don't pick you up, do I?"
"You should some time."
Sherry grabbed him around the neck and jerked him down into a kiss, mashing the last word into an unintelligible grunt against her lips. No use arguing with that. Jake reached down between them and slid her pajamas off. She worked them free of her legs and kicked them aside. Then he kneeled up, just long enough to shuck off his jeans before she pulled him back down.
She tensed beneath him, her hips arching off the mattress pressing up against his with such sudden urgency that Jake thought at first she meant to throw him off.
But she relaxed again almost at once, her knees easing apart so he could settle between them.
Jake wondered if it ought to have felt more profound. Sherry had almost died. Though he didn't know the details exactly, he knew that she wouldn't have exaggerated something like that. It must have been pretty touch and go in there, at least for a little while. So maybe this ought to have been more significant for both of them; maybe he should have been seeing stars.
And yet, it wasn't any different from the sex they'd had dozens of times before. Nothing wrong with that, not by a long shot, save that it didn't kindle that fire inside him, the one that always blazed hottest when emotions were high and death was close.
Those days were pretty definitively behind him now. He missed them with a vague nostalgia, but he was a big boy. He'd get over it.
Jake had never thought he'd be the settling down type. When he tried to conceive of himself as happily cohabitating in Sherry's condo – cooking, cleaning, staying busy the best he could – it was still not his own face he saw. There was a slight disconnect between the way he perceived himself and the reality of his situation, like a glitch in video. But the two versions of himself were becoming easier to reconcile.
Once, maybe, he would have jealously guarded his self-image. A stubborn and calcified sense of self, and a willingness to defend it even unto violence, was all right for a mercenary, but you couldn't take it to the bank.
He'd seen it now, what happened when you tried to live on solipsism like it was food or oxygen.
He and Sherry were a little slow to fall back into rhythm with each other, but once they had Jake remembered why he'd missed it. Sex with Sherry had always been good, as good now as it had been the first time they had fumbled their way into it, if not even better.
Afterwards, Sherry cleaned them up conscientiously, then turned over and fell asleep. Jake stayed up a little longer, glancing over at her from time to time. It seemed to him that she was smiling faintly, though he couldn't say for sure, and Jake briefly congratulated himself on still being able to screw his girlfriend into a coma, even after spending a dozen hours squeezed into a small seat on a trans-Atlantic flight.
But the truth was probably that she was tired, and she felt that talking to him more now wouldn't solve anything and in fact might walk back all the good their reunion had done.
The truth was never quite as grand as grand as what you imagined. Jake still wasn't in love with the idea, but he was beginning to think he could live with it.
