A/N: Nothing much to say, or anything special to add. So I'll just talk for a bit. It would seem that Jill is feeling a little under the weather, but can Chris cheer her up? And what's this crazy idea of Claire's?
Chapter 2
Outside, the moon was starting to show it pale and waxy face, and dark clouds lingered on the skyline. Silvery light cast a heavenly glow on cobalt blue ice and slopes of glittering snow. It made everything seem a little unreal, Claire thought as she stood in the backyard of the run-down manor she was staying in. A bird fountain, the water frozen over, stood to one side, and a stack of rotting wood to the other. The scent hinted at other odors, more revolting and vile ones, but Claire didn't think of those things.
Instead, she walked to a small, open area near the birdbath, the snow crunching beneath her boots. Then she kneeled on the frosty ground and started to make a snow fort. She'd left Chris a note telling him where she'd be, and Claire had no doubts whatsoever that he'd appear as soon as he could. It was stupid, she knew, to come out at night in such light clothing, but once she'd felt the frigid air caressing her cheeks, she knew it was a good idea.
Without warning, she laughed out loud, for no reason at all. It seemed like the right thing to do, in that pleasant, chilly silence that pervaded through the woods that evening. A sharp, lancing pain shot through her hand, and she glanced down at it. A rock had cut her. Claire checked the wound and decided that it wasn't too bad, and she could wait to bandage it later. She laughed again when she noticed she had no mittens or gloves on. Chris would kill her. When Claire was little, she'd go outside without a coat or boots or mittens or hat or anything, and every time, Chris would stomp outside and bawl her out, all the while thrusting various cold-weather garments onto her appendages. Would he dare to do it now?
A thin trickle of blood ran out onto the ground, staining it crimson. Claire hardly noticed as she packed more snow and thrust it into place. She had to get a head start, or Chris would blow her out of the water. Or maybe he wouldn't. He might still be soft-hearted enough to let her win…
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Chris was shocked to find the parlor empty. At first, he'd been terrified that Claire had jumped out the window or something, but further investigation brought the slip of paper to his attention. His name, in Claire's blocky print, was written boldly at the top. The note went on to say that if he had the guts, he could go out and fight her one-on-one in the snow. But if he was too chicken…
The note died off then, and Claire had signed it. Chris frowned. He slammed the mugs down onto the table, thick brown liquid splashing everywhere, and practically ran out of the room. He haphazardly threw on a jacket and some gloves, and jammed his feet into his boots. He was on the edge of the top of the stairs when he halted, thinking. Knowing Claire, she wasn't wearing any mittens…or a coat, for that matter! Glaring at Claire's irritating lack of sense, he barged into her room and rooted around in the closet a little bit. Having located a pair of thick, wooly mittens and some furry white earmuffs (although a winter jacket was nowhere to be found; Chris figured she must have worn it after all) and headed downstairs.
Outside, the wintry night was quiet, except…ragged breathing was coming from across the snowy lawn. Chris smiled and raced over to Claire's rapidly growing snow fort, complete with a stock of snowball ammunition. She was so involved in her work, she didn't hear him approaching. He leaned over and gently tapped her shoulder. With a impish grin, she looked up at him.
He smiled back. She looked so happy…! Chris didn't want to say anything uncomfortable to ruin the moment, so he chose his words carefully.
"Read your note, little sister," he said, sneering.
"Are you taking me up on my challenge?"
"You bet. There's no way you can beat me."
"Watch out, Chris, or I'll kick your ass. Your little sister isn't so little any more, you know," Claire added, her grey eyes twinkling.
She was too right. Claire wasn't so little now. But there was a plus side to that. "If you don't put these on," he said, offering the brown wool mittens, "I'll do more than just kick your ass, Claire…I'll tickle you, and you know I can." Claire laughed, a real, honest-to-goodness laugh, and took the mittens, stuffing her hands into them. "And this," he continued, placing the furry earmuffs over her head.
"You've got to be kidding. These things are so…ugly." She looked up at him pleadingly. "Please don't make me wear them."
Chris shook his head and folded his arms. "Wear them. I insist." Shrugging in acceptance, Claire made sure the earmuffs were firmly secured and looked up at him, snowflakes catching on her long, thick black lashes.
"Okay." She reached into her fort and withdrew a huge snowball. "Now, I'll give you a head start. Five seconds, alright?"
Chris nodded and sprinted away. Six seconds later – he counted – a snowball slammed against the back of his knee as he sped away. Brother and sister continued to lob freezing projectiles at each other for several minutes, before Chris admitted defeat (while discreetly hiding his own stash of snowballs) and Claire gratefully accepted. They attempted to make a snowman, but were lacking in eyes and nose.
"How 'bout this: I'll go inside and get a carrot and some radishes from the salads we had last night, and you find some rocks for the buttons. Okay?" Claire's idea seemed good enough, and Chris agreed to let her go in the house. While he dug through a few feet of snow for pebbles, Claire stepped through the back door into the relative warmth of the house. The kitchen was empty, and as Claire upended a discarded salad in the fridge, a few random notes drifted down from the floor above. Claire hesitated, melted water dripping from the lining of her coat. So Jill was still up there, playing her song…
An icy cold rivulet of water trickled down her back, jolting her to the kitchen again. She bit her lip and pulled a carrot from a plastic bag and two bright, purplish red radishes from a covered plate. After dumping the rest of the vegetables in the trash (they were pretty far gone, anyway) Claire returned to the great outdoors. It was close to nine o' clock now, and the sky was a deep, velvety blue, studded with silver points of light. She made her way across the empty lawn, towards the snowman. He was rather large, and a row of coal-black stones adorned his pale chest.
Chris stepped out of the forests nearby, looking pleased to see her. The carrot nose looked great, but the radishes made somewhat strange eyes.
"It looks demonic," as Chris put it.
Claire had to agree, especially since the eyes looked to be popping out of their sockets.
Claire patted the snowman's thick hip and replied, "Maybe it'll scare away some of the woodland predators." Chris glanced at her, a skeptical look on his face, and was about to say something rude about the nature of those predators when he was interrupted. A window on the second floor opened and Jill Valentine stuck her head out.
"What're you guys doing out there? It's almost nine thirty! You should come in before you catch pneumonia or something," she said, her voice taking on a tone incredibly like that of the Redfield siblings' parents.
"Come on, Jill," Chris replied, "you should come out here, too. It's a beautiful night!"
Jill stared at him from the windowsill. It was a beautiful night, but still…it might not be safe… "I don't think I will."
"Please, Jill? We promise, it'll be fun!" It was the lovely Claire speaking, Jill noticed. Funny. Up until now Claire had always been so sad. The first thing you noticed about Claire was her eyes. They were huge, luminous pools of steely blue-gray, fringed with curling black lashes. They looked just like Chris's. Maybe it was a Redfield trait.
"Jill, come on! You'll love it!" Jill looked at the still night again, and at the moon in the sky. Moonlight Sonata…
"Alright. I'll be down in a few minutes." She disappeared, and the window slammed shut.
Chris and Claire looked at each other, astonished. She'd given in awfully quick…
"Hey," Chris whispered, excited, "let's ambush her when she steps out!" Claire grinned and laughed.
"I'll work on making some more snowballs. You should, too," she advised him and ran towards the corner of the house nearest the back door. He didn't tell her that he already had twenty or so stacked in neat order near the basement window.
Jill, of course, was expecting something of the kind. She stepped outside, braced for a blast of cold snow to hit her from two directions. But nothing came. Looking around suspiciously, she realized that Chris and Claire were nowhere to be seen. Damn those shadows, she thought to herself. They could hide a wooly mammoth from view!
After three more steps, Jill was fairly sure that the siblings were simply waiting for the perfect time to ambush her. Moments later, a rain of snowballs smacked into her from both sides. She gasped – the snow was a hell of a lot colder than she remembered! A lilting, girlish laugh rang out from her left, and Jill stooped, scooping up a handful of snow as she did so.
Without waiting to see if her aim was correct, she hurled it as hard as she could in the direction of the laugh. A startled, rapid intake of breath rewarded her efforts, and with a grim smile, Jill packed another snowball. She caught sight of Claire dashing for the security of a crumbling birdbath and chucked the ball at her. It missed, but exploded on the ground nearby. Snow flew in all directions. Jill growled in frustration and made another snowball when a thought occurred to her, a bit too late. Where was Chris?
"Big brother to the rescue," a low voice muttered in her ear.
Speak of the devil, Jill thought, and attempted to flee, but Chris caught her around the waist, laughed, and shoved a handful of snow down the back of her shirt. She shrieked and writhed in his arms. He dropped her and ran. Jill landed on hands and knees, gasping for breath. Instantly, she jumped to her feet and, shaking out the snow from her shirt, she snarled at Chris and Claire,
"You better watch your backs, you two, 'cause The Jill is coming after you…!"
She was quickly silenced by a snowball to the face.
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"Well," Claire said, "that was fun."
Jill brooded over her cup of tea – she'd rejected Chris's hot offering – and stared gloomily at her sodden socks, lying on the floor near the door leading to the hallway.
"I only lost because I was outnumbered, you know."
"It's okay, Jill. You don't have to justify your failure to me," Chris replied.
"The statement was rhetorical, Chris. I didn't need that." He smiled that roguish smile that had doubtlessly brought women to their downfall and winked at her. The nerve of that man…!
Claire, having seen this exchange, raised an eyebrow, but opted not to say anything. If Venus was doing her work here, than Claire herself need not interfere. Instead, she leaned back and took up her warm mug in numb hands. Even though it was somewhat cold down on the first floor, it required less effort to sit down at the table and drink something hot than to trudge upstairs and get into bed. So Claire sipped her hot chocolate. Chris had remembered how she liked it – with whipped cream on top, and a peppermint thrown in, and plenty of sticky marshmallows. The steam warmed her nose and she took a hefty gulp of it, and swallowed, feeling the heat trace a path to her belly.
"I don't know about anyone else," she said, "but I'm going to bed." She yawned, covering her mouth with her free hand. "See you guys tomorrow."
"Good night," Jill and Chris said together. Jill instantly glared at Chris, who smiled lazily back at her. She was still irritated about losing. She shouldn't have, though, because nobody won when the Redfield siblings worked as a team.
Claire stood and guzzled the remaining liquid in her cup before washing it out and leaving it near the sink to dry. Then she walked slowly up the stairs, feeling the blood start to work its way through her feet again. As she undressed and slid beneath the thick flannel blankets, it occurred to her that neither Jill nor Chris had come upstairs after her. She smiled, and fell asleep.
Downstairs, there was an uncomfortable silence after Claire had disappeared upstairs. Jill sipped her tea as Chris fiddled with a lock of his hair. Finally, he spoke.
"So, um, you feeling better?"
Jill's eyes snapped up to look at his face. Was Chris blushing? "What do you mean, feeling better? I was feeling fine before."
Chris shifted his butt in the chair. It was a very hard chair. "You, um, well, it sort of seemed that you, uh, were upset about something. Er…" His voice trailed off and he looked at her. Vivid blue eyes were boring into his brain from the other side of the table.
"I didn't realize you cared." The words sounded cold, and imperious. Chris swallowed.
"Of course I care, Jill. I've always cared about you." It was Jill's turn to blush. She pushed away from the table and, feeling awkward, stood.
"Oh. That's sweet. I'm going to bed now. Good night." And she rushed away from the place as if it was the root of all evil. Her footsteps faded away on the wooden stairs with their thin, threadbare carpeting. Chris groaned and clutched his head with his hands.
"I," he said with great articulation, "am the biggest ass on earth."