A/N: Another chapter! It's a bit short, but this is when emotions (or is it hormones…?) start to fly high. I'm an insomniac, and I had nothing better to do. So I wrote. ^_^ Please enjoy!
(Note: I think the night had an effect on my writing. It's sort of a gushy chapter. Leon and Claire are starting to act on their feelings, but I'm not particularly good with describing love and stuff, so I tried to take it easy. Ignore it if it gets too bad. ~_^)
Chapter 5
"This is the main hall. We've got heavy coats and winter stuff for you guys already, in that closet over there, and most of our cleaning supplies are in that closet." Claire pointed to the places she spoke of before walking towards one of the doors, the one on the left. "And this door leads to the powder room and a bathroom. But the powder room had a dead cat in it when we bought the house, so it smells really bad. But the bathroom works fine and everything." She crossed the room and went through the door on the right.
"This," she continued to lecture, "is the hallway that leads to everywhere on this floor, really. Over there is the pantry, through that door is the big dining room, and over there is a sitting room. It's mostly empty now, but there's still this really cool old clock, with the sprigs and coils and pendulums and stuff all visible. I'd show you, but it's freezing and I want to get upstairs really quick." She swept past the room and into the kitchen, decorated with Greek-style tiles on the walls on flooring. "This is the kitchen, as you can see. We're gonna be making dinner soon." Claire beamed happily as she moved towards a dark room nearby. "And that would be the washing room. The washer and dryer don't work a lot of the time, but we don't really have many clothes to wash, so it's mostly okay. And the door there leads to the basement."
"What's down there?" That would be Rebecca talking. She seemed to be a sweet girl.
"Just the furnace, and some odds and ends. I'm planning on going down there soon to sort out what we can use and what we should sell. But that's all, really." She moved towards a narrow hallway. "Down there is another bathroom, the bar and the door leading to the backyard. We can go out later. It's really pretty, with all the snow and everything."
"Claire, how'd you find the house?"
She looked at Leon. He looked at her. Then she spoke. "Chris heard about it in the village. So we bought it. The guy's mother and father died here, and he wanted to get rid of it. He sold it to us, with all the things in it, for a really good price. It was kind of him, but he said he hated it and wanted it off his hands." She shrugged. "Some people are like that, I guess." They all returned to the hallway near the kitchen and climbed the stairs.
The third floor held nothing but a master bedroom, a playroom, a library and a study, along with some empty rooms. The attic held more junk, along with a window offering a great view of the forest and a balcony over the once magnificent gardens. They returned to the second floor and were introduced to the parlor, the drawing room and the bathroom.
"Each room has a bathroom attached," Claire explained in a bossy tone, "but since everyone's going to be sharing rooms, it'll get crowded sometimes." Then she told them where they'd be staying. Carlos, Chris and Leon all in one room ("Because it's easier than setting up the big closet at the end of the hall," Jill sensibly told them) while Jill and Rebecca shared another. Claire and Sherry had the third guest room on the second floor. People started unpacking as soon as they could.
"What's that you got there, Sherry?" Claire peered a bundle in the small black suitcase. Sherry giggled and pushed it into a drawer, beneath the sailor suit she'd worn in Raccoon.
"A present, Claire! It's not like I can tell you!" Sighing tragically, Claire rolled over and shrugged in acceptance. She still needed a few more gifts herself. For Rebecca, and Carlos. Everyone else she'd taken care of.
"Need any help unpacking?"
"Nope. I got it. But thanks for offering."
"Sure thing, Sher. If you need anything, come and get me, alright? I'll be downstairs in the kitchen."
Sherry laughed again. "I might have trouble finding you. The house is so big!" Claire laughed and left the room. There were two beds, each one queen-sized, and each was positioned near a window. They both had long, gauzy canopies and cozy-looking blankets folded on top. And they both got a nightstand and a chest of drawers. They shared the vanity, and Claire had even said she could use half the closet, if she wanted.
Not that Sherry had much to unpack. That stupid sailor suit, which she'd kept in case she ran out of other clothes, and some jeans and a couple of long-sleeved shirts. An extra pair of shoes, because her plain white sneakers weren't good for every occasion. And then that beautiful navy blue angora sweater that Claire had picked out for her in the department store in Philadelphia, two days before she'd gone looking for her brother in Paris. It was absolutely breathtaking, and warm as well. It was Sherry's favorite thing, besides the biker jacket.
And then she'd brought a notebook and a pen, and the golden pendant her mom had given her…Sherry was glad Claire had pulled the G-Virus sample from it before throwing the whole thing into the smelting pit. It was all she had of parents' now. That and the picture inside the locket, of her and Dad and Mom when they went to the County Fair near Raccoon City only months before all the bad stuff started happening. Sherry shrugged those thoughts away and slammed the drawer shut. The golden pendant bounced against her sternum beneath her shirt.
After setting up the few toiletries she had in the bathroom – really only a brush, toothbrush, toothpaste and a headband or two – she started down the hallway to go see Claire and stopped at the top of the staircase. What was that music? She followed the sound and traced it to the drawing room. Or maybe it was the parlor. Sherry didn't know. The door was shut, but the music was beautiful. Who was playing? Not Claire. And not Leon.
So Rebecca, Carlos, Jill or Chris. She pulled the knob and peeked inside. Jill Valentine, the ex-thief, was playing on the piano. Jill didn't notice Sherry watching wide-eyed in fascination at her playing. After a minute or two, she softly pulled the door shut. Sherry turned around and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Chris towering over her.
"Um…hello, Mr. Redfield."
He raised an eyebrow. "Mister? Don't call me that. Just Chris is fine." She nodded nervously. "Was Jill in there, Sherry?"
"Yeah. She plays really good, huh?"
"Yeah, she does…the 'Moonlight Sonata'. It's her specialty, you could say." He said it in a weird voice, like he didn't notice she was there any more.
"Oh. Well, I'm gonna go see Claire. Talk to you later, Chris."
"Alright, Sherry. We'll go out in the snow later, and dish it out with some of the others. You can be on me and Claire's team. We always win." Chris seemed to snap back to himself. "Alright?"
Sherry grinned and disappeared down the flight of stairs. Maybe living in a secluded mansion wouldn't be as bad as she'd first thought…
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Rebecca folded and placed the last pair of underwear into the drawer. Yes, she folded her underwear. Even her mother had teased her about that before. She smiled sadly as she thought of her parents, all the way out in Michigan. When she came to Paris after the incident at Raccoon, she'd told her parents it was because she needed a break, because working in S.T.A.R.S. was much harder than she'd expected. Becca snorted and dropped some socks in next to the stacks of panties and bras and closed the drawer quietly. Working in S.T.A.R.S. was hard, alright.
She plopped down onto her bed and let out a gusty breath. The window steamed over for a minute before the moisture turned to droplets and slid down the glass pane. And why, oh why, did she have to be roomed with Jill? Valentine had made it very clear she didn't like Rebecca, and now she had to room with her…!? It was because of Chris, she knew. Jill couldn't understand that Chris was only a crush, and nothing more. And one day Rebecca had woken up and felt nothing for him but friendship.
Becca felt sorry for Jill in a way – she obviously liked Chris, a lot, but she'd never tell him, and he'd never know. They were such a cute couple, too…she gazed out the window, taking in the snowy expanse of the forest. France was beautiful, and she was glad she'd decided to come with the group. They could stop Umbrella together; she knew it. Everyone seemed to be getting along fine, too. Playing idly with the fringe of bangs on her forehead, she rolled onto her stomach.
Maybe she could go downstairs, and help with dinner. Or take a walk outside. Or read the one book she'd allowed herself to bring (they took up a frightful amount of space in her suitcase), a thick fantasy novel. Thinking about it made her blush a little. She'd been teased about that as well. "Still reading books about knights and their ladies, Becca? You're eighteen now, come on! Those things are for delusional nine year old kids." That would be her friend Piper, back in Michigan. Rebecca had visited a couple months before her transfer to Bravo Team in Raccoon City. But could she help it if mysterious elves and majestic dragons intrigued her, if she found gryphons and sylphs more intriguing than real life?
This particular book, from the paragraph on the back and the color illustration on the front, seemed to be about an elfin priestess on the run from a group of cultists out to kill all the elves. The priestess was the last of her kind…just like me, Rebecca realized. The only member of Bravo Team to survive the mansion. She got no pride or satisfaction out of that, only sorrow.
Becca sat up and stood again, displeased with where her thoughts were leading her. Hooking a loose strand of light brown hair behind her ear, she left the room and made her way to the kitchen, where she was happy to find Claire and Sherry preparing lasagna, green beans, rolls and pie made from dried apples and berries. At least, the ingredients for those dishes stood out on the counter. Claire was actually throwing the desiccated apples at Sherry, who was giggling as she retaliated with berries. They were running around the table, and a pang of homesickness smacked Becca, almost as if it was a tangible blow to the face. It was so much like home, she thought, right before Thanksgiving with all the cousins over…
Claire tossed one of the larger apple slices at Rebecca, who started and stared for a minute before laughing and throwing a few fruits of her own. In the end, they all leaned against the counter to catch their breath.
"Claire started it," Sherry wheezed.
"Did not!" Claire sounded so indignant Becca almost believed her.
"Did too," Sherry retorted and made a face at Claire.
"Alright, maybe I did." She looked resentfully at Sherry. "What's my punishment?"
"Hmmm…" Sherry looked at Becca. "Maybe…you have to wash the dishes after dinner? I'm sure they'll try to stick me with the job, seeing as I'm the youngest. Why don't you…volunteer?" Claire started to pick up the fruit lying on the ground.
"Okay. I guess it's fair enough. But I'll get you back, just watch," she added. They scrambled around a bit, dumping out the dirty fruit, and started to make everything over again. The lasagna was easy enough. It was pre-made, and all you had to do was stick it in the oven. While it cooked, Becca made the dough for the rolls as Sherry and Claire worked on the pie. The three of them talked as they baked, and Becca found herself feeling a lot better. Claire's next comment, though, surprised her.
"Would you like to sleep in our room sometime? You know, a sleepover or something? Like when we were little. I used to have so much fun. We're gonna invite Jill too but she'll say no. And it would be so much fun!" Sherry nodded enthusiastically and dumped a cup of berries into the pie crust.
Rebecca smiled. How many years had it been since she'd slept over at a friend's house? She had never had time for many friends, and once she got to college, the number dropped to zero. Nobody wanted to be friends with the sixteen-year-old college sophomore, after all.
"I'd love to! It really would be fun!" Sherry and Claire exchanged looks and smiled at Becca. Screw Jill, she thought. Who needs her? As the lasagna cooled on the stovetop, the three girls popped the pie in and watched it bake, a heavenly aroma rising from its golden crust. The bread followed, and they heated the green beans in the old but operational microwave.
A noisy blowing sound startled the group before Claire recognized it as the heating and laughed, thankful it was on for once. Sherry ran upstairs and bullied Chris and Carlos into setting the table in the dining room and returned to the kitchen, her work done.
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Dinner was fairly uneventful. Carlos had swallowed a berry whole when he saw Chris refill Jill's glass with milk. A small gesture, but the look that accompanied it spoke far louder than his actions. The announcement that they'd be celebrating Christmas on New Year's didn't cheer him up any. He had to get gifts for a bunch of people he didn't know, now. Well, he didn't have to, really, since no one said he did, but he'd feel bad. He decided to visit the village the next day and buy some stuff. He'd pick up some cheap scents at the department store in town, and shovel them out to the girls. But for Jill, he'd have to find something suitable. Jewelry, perhaps? Diamonds are a girl's best friend, after all.
Carlos smiled, happy that he had everything figured out. Chris couldn't be getting Jill something better than what he would, and before long, he'd have her wrapped around his finger. After the food was finished, everyone sat around, not wanting to be the first to leave. It was Carlos himself who suggested that Sherry do the dishes, but Claire, with an odd look in Sherry's direction, had offered to do the chore instead.
The table was emptied in a matter of minutes after that.
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Claire sighed as she stared at the tall stack of dishes next to the sink. They all had to be washed and dried for tomorrow, or they wouldn't have anything to eat on. With a groan she filled the sink with warm, soapy water and plugged it, plunging the first few dishes into its lemon-scented depths. A voice from behind startled her.
"Want some help?" It was Leon. She bit her lip and turned around. He was close, very close, and he smelled clean, like soap and water and, faintly, of shaving cream. It was intoxicating.
"Um, yeah, that would be nice." She forced a smile. "Washing or drying?"
Leon gently edged her away from the sink. "You can't wash. You've got such pretty hands, I wouldn't want them to get ruined with the water." His voice was quiet and soft. But he thought she had pretty hands.
She took up the dishtowel and waited for him to finish scrubbing the plate he held.
"Did you make any of the food at dinner?"
"Yeah. Most of it. Or I helped make it, anyway. Why?" Leon chuckled and looked at her.
"You really don't know?" She shook her head and rubbed the cloth against the dripping dish in her hands. "The entire household lives in fear of your dreaded cooking, Claire. Chris has told a few people a few things, and those things got around…" He looked at her, his eyes glittering in the light. "I must admit, I am in awe of your culinary talents." Claire flushed an angry red and started to dry the dishes with more force than was entirely necessary.
"I don't know why he insists on telling people stuff like that. You burn down the kitchen one time, and people start saying things…!" She opened a cabinet, standing on her toes, and pushed a stack of dried plates in. Leon laughed again, but it wasn't a bad laugh. In fact, it made her want to laugh, too, and she did exactly that. "I guess it is sort of true, though, huh?"
"I'm sure that with a little practice, Claire, you'll be the next Betty Crocker." They didn't say much else, until Leon finished the last of the dishes and pulled the plug. He started to rinse out the sink as Claire dried the dishes. Then she stood on her toes again and attempted to push the last of the plates onto the top of an already teetering stack. She was starting to wobble a little when warm, slightly moist hands closed around her waist and held her steady as she secured the plates and closed the cabinets.
A finger hitched up the corner of her sweater and ran smoothly over the bared flesh of her hip and waist. Claire stood still. Should she tell him now, about how much she wanted to be with him? She opened her mouth to say something, when, suddenly, the hand pulled back and yanked the sweater down again.
"I'm sorry," Leon said. He sounded out of breath. "I didn't mean - " He stopped quickly, flushed, and continued, "I'm sorry. So sorry. See you later." He went up the stairs like a bat out of hell. Claire waited for his footsteps to disappear before she took a breath.
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Leon threw open the door to the guys' room, ignoring both Carlos's irate complaints and Chris's questioning gaze. He walked into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him, and locked it soundly.
What the hell was wrong with him!? He'd meant to ask her about Steve, for Chrissake, Steve, but then she'd had such trouble, and she'd looked so adorable…and then he just couldn't help himself. Leon turned the cold-water faucet on full and splashed his face a couple times, sputtering at the freezing temperature. Switching the faucet off, he stripped down to his boxers and sat on the edge of the bathtub for a minute. She hadn't stopped him. She hadn't even given him an angry, reproachful look. Had she wanted that to happen?
Leon glared at his brooding reflection in the mirror and stood, unlocking the door and stepping into the room. His roommates regarded him warily as made his way over scattered luggage towards the bed in the corner. Without so much as a goodnight to either of them, he rolled over and fell asleep.
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Throughout the house, the residents fell asleep, one by one.
Leon slipped into a light, dreamless rest that had him tossing and turning all night. Chris thought of Jill as Morpheus claimed his mind. Carlos, oddly enough, was thinking of how pretty Becca looked when she smiled at him during dinner as his eyes slid shut. Sherry dreamt of her father and mother, and started to cry as she slept. Rebecca sat for a while, thinking of home, before she lay her head down on the pillow and nodded off. Jill stayed up late, playing her Sonata, before she returned to her room and watched Rebecca's innocent slumber as she, too, drifted asleep. And Claire lay still as the sky became darker and darker, thinking of Leon and what he'd done, and how nice his hand had felt on her skin. She fell asleep and, for once, dreamed only good dreams, of only good things…