She had lost control.
Wine and spaghetti, Gaga and candlelight, the snow outside and the cracking heat of the fire; a dangerous combination for two people who were stuck together in a beautiful little cabin in the mountains, but was that really all it took to make her give up on all the self-control she had worked into her inner schemes during the past eighteen, maybe twenty years? Jill looked around at the mess Chris and she had made after they had finished the second bottle of wine together, like the ring-shaped stains on the small table between the couch and the fireplace or the empty glass thrown onto the carpet next to it. The Redfield family's photo album, open to the page of Chris' first day of school, was another silent witness of a night that had ended with the two of them sleeping together on the couch, fully dressed and without brushing their teeth. She exhaled into her palm to torture herself with her own dense breath and hissed disgustedly, trying to remember when she had last slept on a couch even though having a more comfortable option available, like the beds with soft, clean sheets in the cozy bedrooms of the cabin.
Jill turned her head to Chris. Turned onto his back and with one leg thrown over the backrest, the man was snoring loudly, sleeping as tightly as a man who didn't have to worry about bioterrorism could sleep, and the serenity he seemed to enjoy made her envy him a little. She herself barely slept, and she knew for certain that her old partner had always had troubles finding rest, too.
"You truly deserve a break," she whispered, swinging her feet off the couch to get up and see what the kitchen offered for breakfast.
They had spent the night before talking about all kinds of subjects, about the Redfield family, about Claire and her difficult love interests, about themselves, about summers in Cedar Grove and winters in New York, about Forest Speyer and Albert Wesker, about that Christmas party where Chris and Richard Aiken had stolen the Christmas tree from the hall of the RPD and about the fact nobody had ever found out about it. They had discussed practically every possible subject available, but they hadn't spoken about work. It was funny, actually, that the elusion of the B.S.A.A. wasn't even a very difficult task. Chris himself seemed to show little to no interest in finding out more about bioterrorism, and she was somehow grateful for it.
Jill opened the cabinets of the kitchen in search of coffee. Mrs. Wilson had certainly thought of the ingredients for breakfast as well, and the blonde didn't let the first empty cabinets discourage her.
"It's the one on the right," she heard a voice behind her and turned around in surprise.
Chris was propped against the wall, with his arms crossed and a sleepy but happy expression on his face. Jill returned the gesture and turned to the right, finding a bag of roasted ground coffee on the upper shelf.
"Thanks," she said and shifted to tiptoes to reach for the package while Chris opened the fridge to take out eggs and bacon.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked with a grin when he turned around to search for a pan while Jill was engaged in feeding the coffee maker.
"I did," she said with a giggle. "I passed out after the fourth glass I think."
Chris snickered, shaking his head as he began to crack the eggs and pour them into a bowl.
"I always thought you were a hard drinker, Valentine," he said and laughed. "I'm pretty sure the origins of my idea to steal the Christmas tree that night with Richard lie in my attempts to get you drunk enough to go home with me."
Jill chuckled. Chris' harmless flirting had turned impetuous and unashamed from the first cup of wine on and she cursed herself for still finding it somewhat charming.
"You idiot," he hissed amusedly. "If you wanted to take me home, you should have asked me."
He turned, deadpanned for a second, and asked, "Would you have said yes?"
That suggestive look on his face was priceless, Jill thought as she enjoyed his reaction to the fullest, bathing in his attention.
"No."
Too bad she had to break his heart again.
He huffed out a laugh and turned back to the eggs, a little disappointed, maybe, but obviously not thinking about giving up. Jill laughed under her breath and resumed her interaction with the coffee maker, carefully pouring the water into the machine and putting the filter with the coffee in place. She had almost completed the task when Chris decided to boldly ruin her fucking morning.
"So, when are you taking me to work?"
The spoon clinked against the compartment for the coffee filter when he asked about her future intentions and her head spun around to face him. Did he sense that they were trying to keep him away from work? Did he know about their fatal intentions regarding his memory recovery? Did he also know that they were doing it for him? Eyebrows lifted, Jill took a slow breath and rolled her shoulders into a tense shrug.
"Oh," she said as a nervous laugh burst out. "I guess when we get back to New York would be the right time, maybe."
Chris seemed to find the answer plausible enough not to question it further. With a nod and a sly smirk on his face, he began to lay the bacon slices into a pan and turned the stove on, proceeding to add milk to the eggs and beat them, making Jill almost believe that the danger was over.
"Maybe you can tell me more about it during breakfast," he suggested all of a sudden and caused her to sigh exasperatedly. "Tell me about what my job is exactly, who I work with, what the goals are. I mean, I will have to get back to work someday, won't I? And I want to be prepared."
Was there a way to prepare someone for all the horrors he was going to find when he'd get back to work? All the abominations they came across, all the treason they had been victims of, all the friends they had lost. She exhaled, hoping that Chris wouldn't be as persistent and stubborn about the subject as he was about going on a date with her.
"Oh, we will have plenty of time once we're there, trust me."
She prayed Claire would arrive soon.
The light in the room was as bright and clear as only the midday sun could be on a winter's day like this, which meant that she had woken up much later than she had expected to. Invaded with a throbbing pain that reached all across her forehead and a funny feeling in her stomach, Claire grunted the sleepiness away and rolled onto her elbow, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings from the new angle as she tried to reconstruct the happenings that had brought her into a bed that wasn't hers. Once sure she wasn't missing any detail, she sighed annoyedly and mentally prepared herself for what she would find when she'd turn around.
"Let him be gone. Let him be..." she hissed under her breath as her weight shifted to the left, allowing her to have a look at the sleeping body of Piers Nivans next to her, turned onto his stomach, with his back mutilated by the marks of —most probably— her fingernails. "Shit."
Had it been one of those modern romantic comedy movies, it would now be time for the female main character to peak under the blanket to check if she was still wearing her panties, but Claire believed that was needless in their situation. She knew she was naked; she knew he was naked; and she knew all that because she remembered every embarrassing detail from the previous night; from how they had started making out at the dining table, to how they had shoved their hands into each other's pants in the kitchen, to how they had ended up misusing Jill's bed in so many shameful ways before falling asleep next to each other.
"Grow up, Claire."
Because she was too old to get drunk on tequila and have sex with her brother's second in command, wasn't she? A man that was about twenty years younger than her and whom she had considered her opponent in the fight for Chris' happiness until just a day before. At least Moira's theory about the soldier's sexual orientation had been confirmed, but Claire would have rather died before admitting that to her friend. The monumental headache was another well-deserved punishment for the mindless like her, she decided and began to focus on tracing a plan to get unseen to the kitchen, where she remembered dropping her underwear the night before. When she tugged on the covers, though, the man next to her began to move, stretching his arms and his toned, abused back as Claire pressed the sheets to her chest in an attempt to hide as much flesh as possible.
"Good morning," Piers muttered with a kind smirk on his face as he began to look around.
Seeing her in that tense position gave him a good idea of how uncomfortable the redhead was about the happenings, and before he could let her pull the covers from him, he decided to make it easier for her and rolled to the edge of the mattress to collect his boxer briefs from the ground. Claire was hastily jumping out of the bed. With the effect of alcohol long passed and the sense of shame restored, she seemed rather desperate to hide herself from him.
It was funny, actually, because among all the lost thoughts and dizzy memories, there were things he would probably never be able to forget, with their roots dug deeply into the abyss of a blurry conscience; like the way she'd rolled his head in her palms when she'd kissed him, the shrill shriek she'd let out whenever he'd lowered his teeth into her calves and all the laughter. Oh, how would he ever be able to forget the fact that Claire Redfield laughed loudly when she climaxed?
He could almost feel the depth of every mark her fingernails had left all across his back and it was somehow relieving to know that he wouldn't run into any of his late teammates in the locker room anymore, as they wouldn't have hesitated to make all kinds of dumb comments about it. Like those they had made about their Captain's hot sister and her hungry ass when she'd come to visit their unit back in 2011. Admittedly, the guys had been extremely talented in sexualizing even the most boring and frigid situations; driven by boredom most of the time; and it had been Piers' job to cut their disgusting talks about profaning Claire's body repeatedly.
Who would have guessed that it would be him, out of all members of Alpha team, who would actually get the chance to do so? The only difference between his colleagues' nasty imaginations and reality was the morning after and the silence it brought along. He sighed at the thought and got up to pull his pants into place before reaching down for his shirt, with his back turned to Claire to give her some privacy.
"I'll be gone in a minute."
There was an undertone in his voice that she couldn't decipher; something between shame and disappointment; and it made Claire feel awkward to know that he was probably as embarrassed about the whole situation as she was.
"You can… I mean…" She hesitated, caught between her own interiorized politeness and her desire to lose sight of him as soon as possible. "You can have a shower, if you want to."
He released a short laugh before he turned a little and shook his head at her.
"No need to prolong things," he said and left Claire with a strange expression of shy relief. Maybe Chris' predictions about his sister's lack of love affairs had been a mere attempt at self-comfort and the redhead was actually seeing someone; someone she had just cheated on, in that case. Maybe all the rumors were true, and she was indeed one of Leon Kennedy's conquests, perhaps even the favorite one. "And, I won't tell anyone about this, of course."
Claire eyed him, frozen fingers curling tightly into the knot of fabric that was holding the loose ends of the sheets around her body together. Yes, it seemed he was regretting it too; maybe even more than she was regretting it herself. Beyond the feeling of embarrassment she had to carry, she was also relieved about the fact that he wasn't going to blurt out their misstep to Chris. It was the best for all of them if nobody ever found out that she was the cold-hearted elder lady who seduced innocent, lost, though very experienced young boys in her spare time.
"Thank you," she whispered, gaining a shrug from Piers.
"No problem."
She caught a twitch of his lip before he turned to the door. On his way out, though, he stopped, pointed at the dark suitcase on the floor and looked back at her.
"That's Chris' suitcase."
She knew what he was implying, still she was impressed by how well the soldier knew her brother and his belongings, up to a point that he recognized a simple black suitcase, like those half of the citizens of New York owned, as his Captain's. She shrugged.
"Maybe."
Piers snickered annoyedly and crossed his arms.
"It was at his place yesterday."
What else had she expected from someone who obviously owned a key to Chris' apartment? Her tongue darted out, moistening the corner of her mouth as she considered what to say.
"So?"
That was it. Very eloquent. Claire barely had time to congratulate herself on the feigned lack of interest before Piers threw a snort at her.
"Where are they, Claire?"
There was that shadow on his face that said just how pissed he really was, and Claire instinctively took half of a step back as she exhaled. She should have come up with a better response, given the felt hundred years she had spent in Terra Save's PR and communication department, but focusing more on being an irrational brat than a responsible adult, she just shrugged half-heartedly.
"That's none of your business."
His eyes narrowed, giving his look that dreadful touch of danger as he blew out air through his nose.
"Well I think it is!" he said and showed his clenched teeth as he raised his voice. "Where are they Claire?"
She recognized the fears in his voice, the frightened nervousness of the man who believed he couldn't handle the interim position he had been given, and she felt pity for him. Hadn't she herself experienced that kind of apprehension herself often enough?
"Listen, Piers," she said in a low, calming voice as her right hand turned into a soothing gesture, which was simply ignored by the young soldier.
"I'm done listening, Claire," he grunted, moving threateningly into her direction. "You can't keep him away from this. It's his life project."
Claire rolled her eyes at the comment as her heart began to race. Was that all the drive people saw behind his actions?
"It's his life project because he was forced into it," she yelled, her fingers already stiff from holding the knot. "It's his life project because he had no other choice. It's his life project because Albert Wesker hired him before any other Police Department could do so."
Chris had that sense of righteousness in him, no doubt; it was the reason why he'd joined the Air Force, or why he'd eventually become a member of the Raccoon City Police; but had he known what was waiting for him in the S.T.A.R.S. team and what it would cause to his sister, he wouldn't have taken the job in Raccoon City. Claire was absolutely sure. Raging, she began to stomp through the room, leaving Piers unexpectedly baffled.
"It's his life project because it stole any other interest from him."
Because of Umbrella and their legacy, Chris would never decide to settle down, get married and have children. And neither would Jill Valentine.
Piers sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest, making him seem unwillingly defensive.
"I get your point, Claire," he said after rolling his jaw. "But there are things that need to be taken care of. It's not like I'm sending him back to the field right away."
He didn't get it. Was it really that hard to understand? Claire ran her palm over her forehead, sighing in exasperation. She was tired of explaining and fighting why her brother deserved a break; she was cold and hungover and she just wanted the man to fuck off and leave them all alone.
"Enough!" she hissed as her free hand reached for the young man's collar, pulling him out of the bedroom and towards the front door.
He was following her without offering resistance, but she knew it was because he was uncomfortable around her or the fact that her grip was threatening to rip his shirt and not because he didn't want to keep fighting.
"Claire," he howled as she opened the door and pushed him into the corridor. "You're irrational and childish. He's going to remember someday and he will hate you for not telling him!"
Claire blew out a heavy breath through her nose, holding back the need to roll her eyes in response to a truth she was already more than aware about. Chris would hate her once he recovered his memory, and she would be happy to take the blame, it had been her idea after all, but even knowing that Chris wouldn't forgive her impulsiveness, she still didn't want to give up. Her brother deserved this break and, honestly, their relationship couldn't get any worse than it had been before his accident.
"It will be worth it," she hissed and the man shook his head.
"You can't keep him away from this forever."
A short, ridiculing grin ran over her lips as she huffed out a laugh. Before she could slam the door shut again, she hissed, "Watch me!"
Pressing her bare back against the door leaf, Claire tried to catch her agitated breath as her head began to throb harder. She just wanted the best for her brother, and if the B.S.A.A. couldn't handle shit without him for a couple of months, they had a serious problem, but perhaps Piers was right. Was she really being irrational and childish?
Her view drifted through the room, analyzing the chaos she and Piers had left behind the night before, the table wet with the content of knocked over tequila glasses and the remaining juice from sucked-out lemon slices, the ashtray overflowed with cigarette stubs, her shoes and jacket sadly abandoned on the floor, and she didn't even want to see what the kitchen looked like. Maybe she wasn't being childish, but she was really far from acting her age.
"I'll have to clean up before leaving," she told herself with a grunt and decided she'd also step by the office before driving to Cedar Grove.
If Chris wasn't functional, she and Terra Save would be working twice as hard to compensate for his absence.
"Isn't this beautiful?" Chris asked as they walked together through the icy landscape, swinging his arm up to point at the view that unfolded in front of their eyes. "It's so calm."
The bright sunlight was reflected by the freshly fallen snow and it seemed like a million tiny diamonds covered the meadow between the woods and the frozen lake that lay peacefully in the area, barely touched by human hands. The refreshingly cold air against Jill's cheeks seemed to be the only thing that kept her mind away from the thoughts of regret that had begun to torment her that morning, when Chris had started asking about work. The B.S.A.A. had always been their common baby, the glue that had held them together. They had been almost friends when they'd met at S.T.A.R.S., could have been more, yes, but they were partners now, nothing more than partners, and without the B.S.A.A., they had nothing in common anymore.
Jill sighed sadly. How had she let all that happen? She had just agreed to give Chris some time off, which he would have needed anyway to recover from his injury, and now she was on the run, stuck in the middle of nowhere, and without her phone, unreachable in case of an emergency or even an outbreak. What had happened to the professional and hard-working Jill Valentine, she wondered as her eyes followed Chris, who stomped over the meadow. He could stay in Cedar Grove and be happy as long as he wanted, but she would get back to New York as soon as Claire arrived that afternoon, leave the siblings to whatever fate they were going to meet there and save the B.S.A.A. from the slumpy hands of Max Johnson, whose designation as their Director was still unexplainable to her and the rest of employees. If the guys back home weren't even able to free a stuck can with enough delicacy not to break the vending machine, how would they be able to lead the fight against bioterror?
"Hey Jill! Want to make snow angels?"
She inhaled annoyedly as her attention was swept back to the lovely meadow in Cedar Grove. Snow angels? Wasn't he a bit too old for that? Before she could scoff at him, she watched Chris throw himself backwards into the white field.
"I just hope I didn't land on a frozen cowpat," he exclaimed with a laugh, and a sheepish grin made its way onto his face. "Dude, I love snow."
I hate snow.
The goosebumps that had so far spared her despite the cold suddenly blossomed all over her body as the words her partner had told her a night between Christmas and New Year's Eve 2011 rushed back into her mind. Work had kept them both in the office until late, and when it had started snowing, they had shared a hot cup of coffee and a look out of the window together.
Can't tell you why. I just hate it.
It was actually a common trait among B.S.A.A. soldiers, and Quint Cetcham always pointed out how much he despised cold zones as well. Seeing how joyfully Chris was moving his arms and legs, Jill understood that it had been the years after Raccoon and missions in Antarctica, Russia and some European mountain regions that had caused him to start hating something he'd used to love.
She wondered if he hated her too.
"Come on, Jill, don't let me be the only idiot who makes snow angels," he demanded and Jill huffed as she rolled her eyes.
She could get back to New York after the weekend.
Terra Save had their head offices in one of the most technologically advanced buildings in the city, with a CCTV system that controlled every spot of the building and automatized accesses with electronic ID readers and full body scans that turned the cute receptionists they had working at the NGO in mere eye candy, but their parking garage was easily accessible to anyone who was able to pay for the ridiculously high fees. Piers hissed at the clock when he drove into the parking garage, hoping he wasn't running late to catch the redhead who worked there. He hadn't stopped thinking about what Claire had told him in the morning, and he wanted to speak to her again, hoping that he would find her more open to conversation now that she'd had some time to consider. He cut the engine and exhaled.
He had driven from her apartment back to Jill's and then eventually decided he should check the Terra Save headquarters for the redhead, glad that he found her car parked in the garage there. Just as he was about to turn to the exit door, someone entered the garage through the pedestrian access from the building and Piers decided to stay in his car to keep lurking in the dark as he watched Claire walking through the zone. She was in dark, skintight pants, a white shirt and reddish-brown leather jacket, she wore her hair down and she looked amazing, he thought as his stare followed her through the darkness. She had a phone pressed to her ear and seemed to be agitated. She was also carrying Chris' suitcase in her free hand, and the soldier congratulated himself innerly on his splendid timing.
"Yes, I know what time it is," the redhead hissed as she walked towards her car. "There were things I needed to take care of."
Piers blinked astonishedly when the woman passed by her dark SUV.
"I'll be there in about…" She blew out a breath as she looked around and lifted the key, waiting for the distinctive sound of an unlocking car, until a cute, red Mini Cooper blinked somewhere in the corner. "In about four hours."
Piers frowned.
"Four hours?" He mumbled under his breath, wondering where the fuck she was going. It was obvious why she had chosen to take someone else's car, but the real question of why lay in the choice of the person whom she had swapped vehicles with, as she looked misplaced in the Mini. After a moment of consideration and a quick glance at the fuel gauge of his car he turned the engine back on. He would have to be careful to avoid being seen.
Thank you so much for reading and for the feedback on this dumb little story!
Xaori loves you all!
