A/N: In response to Bloodlover (who kindly reviewed this story): I'm sorry, but I honestly can't stand Steve. And I sincerely doubt that if Wesker's new company got Steve reanimated he'd be human anyway. Besides, this is actually a sort of prologue for my other story, 'Moonlight Sonata', which is Claire / Leon…so it wouldn't really work to have Claire and Steve together in this story, even if I didn't hate his guts. But thank you (and Lyger, too) for reviewing! ^_^
Chapter 2
In less than fifteen minutes, the Redfield siblings were standing on the nearly empty platform as the train disappeared down the tracks. It was close to nine o' clock at night, according to the huge, circular clock mounted on the wall. The train that had left minutes before was the last one that night, and only a few people were still on the platform. Chris looked around, glanced at his watch and then turned back to Claire.
"She'll be here soon. Jill's usually a little late…" Claire shrugged and shifted her weight to her left foot.
"Can we sit down, please? I'm tired." Chris looked at her, a frown forming on his handsome face and a concerned expression in his eyes.
"Sure. You want something to eat?" Claire shrugged again, and Chris led her over to an empty wooden bench across from a vending stand that was closing down for the night. Whatever they made, it didn't smell particularly appetizing, but the scent was enough to make Claire remember how long it had been since she'd last eaten real, nourishing food. Almost five days ago, in Madrid, where they'd bought their ticket for the first train of many.
But she could wait. Claire wasn't hungry enough to eat spoiled food – which was exactly what was being sold – and besides, Jill Valentine would be there soon. And they'd find a hotel or something, and she'd buy some crackers from a vending machine.
Chris set down the bag they shared that held their belongings and started to pace back and forth, casting a watchful eye on his younger sister every few steps. Swinging her legs up onto the bench, Claire slouched down and placed her temple against the cool wooden slats of the bench.
A tall, nervous-looking man walked by and threw a half-eaten sandwich into a garbage can not five feet from Claire's bench. She watched as he walked away, then focused on the trashcan. A trail of ants sped up the side and raced in a mad frenzy onto the jelly sandwich. Claire watched in fascination as the ants slowly covered the bread slice, turning it into a seething mass of tiny black bodies. Chris stepped into her line of sight and she tore her eyes from the ants to Chris's worried face.
"You alright, Claire? You look sick." Just like Chris – straight to the point. Claire forced a smile and sat up.
"No, I'm fine. Will your friend be here soon? I'm really tired." She was, too. Sleeping on a jolting train with frayed nerves and nightmares haunting you didn't make for restful sleep.
"She'll be here. I promise. We'll go to her hotel room, and you can sleep as long as you want. Jill mentioned something about a house for sale that would do for a makeshift home." Claire smiled again and drew her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs close to her. All she wanted was something decent to eat, and a bed that wouldn't shake, and maybe, if she was lucky, a change of clothes. Her jeans were crusted with mud and had a few small patches of blood on them (thankfully they blended with the brownish dirt stains) and her short-sleeved shirt and vest weren't very warm against the freezing winter air. Particularly the shirt, since it didn't even cover her belly button.
Chris resumed pacing, and Claire closed her eyes, trying to relax. Chris suddenly stopped mid-stride and hesitated. Then he gently shook Claire's shoulder, as if he thought she was asleep. Her eyes snapped open and Chris smiled as he snatched up the little backpack.
"That's Jill over there." He pointed towards the double doors presumably leading to the parking lot, where a young woman with dark brown hair and eyes the color of a cornflower stood. The woman – Jill – looked around for a moment before her eyes settled on Chris and Claire. A small smile crossed her face and she started towards them.
Claire stood slowly and followed after Chris, who was already halfway over to Jill. When he reached her, they both awkwardly looked at each other before shaking hands. Claire stood a little behind Chris and waited for him to introduce her. It took him a while to realize what she was waiting for.
"Oh, uh, Jill, this is Claire. And this is Jill Valentine." Claire smiled and offered her hand. Jill shook it – her hand was cold – and then turned towards the door.
"I bought a truck from some guy a day ago. I think it's going to fall apart soon, but it'll do for now. He's the same one that told me about the house." Chris smiled happily and followed Jill like a dog on a leash, and Claire trailed after him with a considerable lack of enthusiasm. Her spirits dropped even lower when she saw the car. Jill hadn't exaggerated.
It took quite a while for the engine to start, and when it did, it made such horrible grating noises Claire worried a little bit at first before she grew accustomed to it. Chris and Jill talked about old acquaintances from S.T.A.R.S. but Claire kept quiet, staring out the windshield at the brightly lit sidewalks.
When they finally came to a stop, it was in the back lot of a small hotel. A garden sat behind a fenced-in tiled patio. It was empty now, with a thick blanket of snow covering the flowerbeds. Claire wondered, as she climbed out of the truck, what flowers grew there in the springtime. A line from a song she'd heard once in a movie sprang into her head.
"I love Paris in the springtime…"
A wry grin twisted across Claire's face. She'd never seen Paris in spring. And at the rate she was going, she wouldn't live to.
"Claire!" Chris's voice made her jump. "Hurry up, it's freezing out here!" She slammed the car door shut and walked quickly through the snow to the covered porch, where the others were waiting. Jill was frowning and drumming her fingers against her thigh, looking impatient. Claire guiltily avoided their eyes and rubbed her arms vigorously.
Inside, Jill led them to a cozy little room on the second floor. A third bed had been set up haphazardly in one small corner, close to the bathroom door. An aging television sat on the dresser and a nightstand with an antique lamp rested between the two large beds. Claire ached to rest her head on the down-filled pillows, but Chris and Jill both started to chatter as he unpacked the few things they'd brought.
Watching them, Claire felt a pang of jealousy for this woman, who so easily caught her brother's attention and snatched it away from her, but she was really too tired to care much. After a moment's debate, she pulled off her boots and vest and slid between the covers. As sleep began to cloud her mind, she felt someone brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead and heard Chris murmur,
"She said she was tired, but…I'm sort of worried. I think she might be sick." Jill didn't respond, or, if she did, Claire didn't hear. She was already asleep.