First of all, thank you for all the appreciation! I'm flattered! Thank you anonymous guest reader for leaving your feedback, hope you'll keep up with the rest of the story.
Thank you for the kudos and likes!
This one's gonna be another long ride, full of events. Hope to entertain you!
Enjoy!
P.S. the title is not related to any Coldplay's song XD
CHAPTER 12 - The Hardest Part
Part one - Hangover
Fake Claire woke up to a tremendous headache, laying on the pink bed in nothing more than his underwear. He rolled under the thick padded blanket and glanced at the frog shaped alarm on his nightstand. He hadn't the strength nor the will to raise his head from the pillow as it still weighed like a herd of elephants.
One blink, the time.
Second blink, the window.
Third blink, Girly Room... Claire?
He turned his head and saw that big, toned, heavy body sleeping right beside him, snoring quietly with the face dug into the fluffy pillow. Despite his headache, he grinned at the remembrance of the previous night events. The drinking, the fun, the laughs, Leon, the unknown girl, the puke, the bathtub, the puke, the car. Home.
He was home and he was alive. That part of the plan still being unscathed.
Once home he had thrown up one more time. He reminisced how his stomach was writhing and burning, and how a still shitfaced himself told - spluttered - his young sister to stick with him and... don't let me die like Bon Scott.
He smiled. His sister never disappointed him. She didn't let him die suffocated in his own spit. Instead, she had helped him stand up, lifted him and carried him into Girly Room as his drunk clumsiness wouldn't let him walk silently. She undressed her brother, by then completely unable to even stand on his feet, tucked him in the blanket and, lastly, she stretched beside him, quickly passing out as well.
He sat up, his head spinning like a top and his stomach burning. He left the room hoping that walking would relent his nausea. When he got back, real Claire was awake and stretching under the blankets.
"Good morning, Claire."
"Morning…" she replied with a thick voice while rubbing her eyes, but suddenly she stopped and asked "you alright?"
"Hangover. Got an aspirin. And you?"
"I'm pretty fine. Your body here seems to tolerate booze pretty well!" she said, giving little slaps on her stomach.
"I know. Yours doesn't." He laughed "can't believe my sister outdrank me!"
She laughed back. A genuine, deep, roaring laugh. "What time is it?"
"Uh... 10 a.m., give or take."
"Come on over here." real Claire said and patted on the mattress next to her.
He climbed on bed and curled himself under the blankets, face to face with his sister.
They were feeling alright in the dusky atmosphere of that room. Outside, the sky was clouded and no plain sunlight filtered through the shutters, still, it was pretty bright, enough to make them see each other without teasing too much their weary eyes.
Suddenly, the memories of a particularly… intimate yet compromising moment came up to Claire's mind, right out of nowhere, and shook her to the bone.
"Hey, Claire!" real Chris asked noticing her abrupt wince. "What's up?"
Fake Chris laid on her back and, sighing, covered her face with the blanket. The remembrance of her nightly liaison squeezed her heart so hard that all the blood rushed to her cheeks. She was so embarrassed for what she had done and she wished she could erase it from her mind and forget but… Her brother had to know what had happened. Even if that meant an explosion of fury because she had not only made out with one of his friends, but she had done it when disguised as him!
Damn, he's so gonna kill me! And I fucking deserve it!
"Chris, I made a mess." she muttered against the blanket, bracing all the courage she could muster. The sooner the better, girl.
Real Chris' mood shifted from amused to deeply concerned in a blink of an eye as he adjusted better on the mattress. "Tell me everything, honey."
"Yesterday… I… uh… you…" she stuttered between a sore heartbeat and another "Yesterday… I drank too much…well, not like you but… I was tipsy and… it was late and I was hungry so… but Piers had kinda vanished… I know you told me to look after him…"
"Piers? Did anything happened to him?" he asked.
Her heart was pounding at a machine gun pace. Truth was just a handful of stuttered words away. And that was scary. "Well… uhm… he got drunk. He was, hell, he was sloshed! And I met him, and he was pissed off at someone, I dunno… but I tried to help him…" she hastily and heatedly spoke, as she felt panic rising in her chest, and she wanted to clean up her conscience as soon as possible, at least before another panic attack would overrun her. No, please, not now. Not again. She wasn't ready to go through another one of those nightmarish moments.
"Claire. Claire. Calm down." real Chris said as all her excited talking was confusing him and he wasn't understanding a single thing of all she said. "Just tell me what happened. One word at a time. Did he got hurt?"
She shook her head "No. No, Chris. He was ok. Drunk but fine… it was me... I fucked up." She looked at the ceiling and then closed her eyes. It's like peeling off a band-aid. C'mon, Claire. "I kissed him."
Real Chris said nothing, he just blinked a couple of times. "What do you mean?"
"I kissed him! We made out!" she repeated, not understanding what was Chris waiting for to explode with his renowned jealousy "He was drunk… he wanted to show that kisses mean noth-… ugh, Chris… it's just that… He kissed me… and I lost control. But I was you! I-I… I can't believe I did it to you! He's your frie-"
"Calm down, honey." he said, cutting her off "It's fine."
"Hell no that it's not fine!" she yelled, tugging the blanket off her face and slamming the edge of it upon her stomach in a desperate yet angry move "Piers is your friend and who-he-thinks-is-you kissed him and even let him touch his penis! What would he think now?"
Real Chris let out an amused laugh, getting his sister even more confused. Why wasn't he getting mad at her? Was he... damn, was he making fun of her? That would've been even worst for her to accept. She needed his reprimand. She needed to feel him as an alley in her self-loathing for her stupidity.
"Claire, I could bet my head Piers doesn't even remember!" he said giggling at her face "and, by the way, it's not even the first time he kisses me while bombed as fuck!"
"What?!" she asked, incredulous.
He laughed and explained "he gets drunk every, single, fucking time. And every fucking time he somehow gets to kiss me… or Leon… or Kevin or… whoever. And the day after he never remembers! 'Cause he's devastated as shit! I have to tell him every time and we just laugh at it. It's ok." he lastly shrugged.
Claire wasn't reassured that much. "Chris... this wasn't just a peck... we... we were making out. Did you hear me? It was intense. He touched me... you. Where do you think that huge boner came from?"
"Well… that never happens." he joked, faking a pensive expression "but trust me, he won't remember."
"You're not Chris today."
"What do you mean?"
"My real brother would've made a scene for such a thing!" She said "and by the way, after your upset for Leon's innocent kiss I expected a whole different reaction!"
"Do you want me to act jealous, sweetheart? 'Cause I can't really feel that way when it's about Piers…" he said, quirking a malicious eyebrow. "and even though he kissed me… Claire, I know him too well. I can swear that, even if he remembered, that kiss wouldn't mean anything to him. To him I am more of a brother than another guy to be attracted by." And after a little pause he harshly added "Leon, instead... Leon kissed you."
Real Claire let out a quiet laugh and a head shake. He was still jealous, even if guys like Piers weren't a threat for Chris and his brotherly jealousy. Good to know. And if Chris says it's ok, she believes him. A faint smile enlightened her bearded face at the realisation that if he was her only brother, she wasn't his only sibling. Chris had a bunch of really close friends that truly considered him as the older brother he seemed born to be.
But that little relief wasn't meant to last long. One thing was still worrying her… the last detail. The worst one. And the infamous name had just been spelled.
"Chris… Leon saw us." she muttered, ashamed and guilty, grinding the soft padded blanket with her strong hands.
She hastily described the stool scene and what Leon might have witnessed and thought and, once she was done, she just laid in silence waiting for his harshest reprimand.
Real Chris couldn't really hide his upset over that revelation. That was a problem. If his sister had made out with Piers the way she described and if Leon saw anything… well, it would have been pretty hard to justify it to his best friend. Damn Leon and his sobriety! If he was drunk, he could've quite easily made him believe he had been seeing things. But no, Mr I-am-a-decent-boy is always alert! Always in the wrong place at the wrong time! Damned, blond, angel-faced guy!
Chris didn't like hearing that. But what he truly hated hearing was his sister's sorrowful tone. Fuck off Leon. Fuck off voyeurism. Fuck off everything. Only Claire was important, and if that thing was worrying her...
"Ok…" he whispered. "We'll take care of that too. Somehow…"
He turned again towards her and pulled her big head downwards to leave a calming kiss on her tousled short hair. "Don't you worry 'bout that, honey. Ok?"
"Ok…"
"It's not that bad. I don't really care." he lied.
"I know you do care."
"Believe me! It's not that bad! We all do stupid thing when drunk! And Chris Redfield was pretty drunk last night, right? I guess he is justified too. Swear to me you won't worry."
"I swear." she said and accompanied her promise with a little chuckle. You're the best brother.
They stayed there for a while catching up about the night before: the people they had met, what they had seen and so on. They even alluded to the bathtub thing a few times but they didn't need to talk about it. They had already settled that it was just fine only few hours earlier, when coming home. And for them, it was. What had happened in that infamous bathroom wasn't anything scandalous at all… Just the normal being of their corrupted siblinghood. They even made a couple of smutty jokes about fake Chris' fingers and their fucking skills.
They were too much accustomed to being dirty to realize what they were doing was aberrant. They had almost had sex. What kept them from doing it was the fact that they weren't attracted to the body opposite them but only by the one they were in. Maybe if they were switched, they wouldn't have done it either. Who knows? Maybe it was just that outrageous condition, that disturbing constant feeling of being out of place, in the wrong body, in the wrong clothes, in the wrong room that made them spiral out that bad. They couldn't know. They had stopped thinking about consequences many days before. They just did what they wanted. What they needed. And they needed to feel good. And well-being was all they pursued. No matter the means. No matter the bodies. No matter the family.
They were Chris and Claire and they got their genders switched. That's all they needed to know. They seemed to accept that they were just a complete fucked up mess, without questioning.
About one hour later they decided it was about time to get up.
"I need a shower" real Chris declared, stretching his thin arms over his ruffled ponytail.
"Yeah, I need one too. I still have sperm all over my balls inside the boxers."
"Ew... better hurry up then!" He replied, grimacing and jumping on that bare-naked buff body.
Fake Claire sat astride on her lap, placing his gracious hands on fake Chris' wide shoulders and, leaning downwards, on all fours, he placed a sound kiss on her bearded cheek.
"We've been pretty dumb last night!" Real Claire joked, while stroking the curve of her brother's back with her fingertips, and reaching up to unclip the bra "we were already in the bathtub, why the actual fuck didn't we wash ourselves? I wouldn't feel so sticky now!"
"Yeah... we didn't think about it. I guess that's because I was drunk and you were stoned by the orgasm! Anyway, stop the talk and let's hit the shower. Come on!"
He just slid off the already unhooked bra, launched it somewhere behind himself and climbed out of bed.
They showered together. Nudity not being a problem anymore for any of them. After all, it was each own well-known body the one they'd be standing in front of.
They washed each other's backs, played with foam and sponges, and joked like kids. That little pillow talk they had, succeeded to put them in a happy mood again. Screw all the problems! They couldn't reach them inside their fortress!
While real Claire was washing fake Claire's head longing for her auburn shiny hair, real Chris was looking down longing for his dick.
"I miss you, buddy."
Real Claire instantly understood whom he was addressing at and she burst into a huge growling laugh before starting to rinse his long hair with abundant water.
"You can touch him if it makes you feel better! He doesn't bite... guess you know!"
"Ha ha ha... not funny!" He mocked "But I would end up doing you a hand job and still missing my dick! And by the way I don't just miss touching it... I miss it being between my legs!"
"Well... I know quite a remedy for that!" Real Claire joked, winking suggestively with a catchy smile and an explicit move of her hips.
"Umpf! No way. I got headache today, honey!" And real Chris mockingly turned away with his nose up and exited the shower, trying clumsily to imitate top models' waddling catwalk.
Lily was laying the table when her kids went downstairs, quiet laughs rumbling down the staircase like a slow landslip.
"Morning Mom!" "Good morning Mommy"
Lily scanned their faces carefully, with piercing hazel brown eyes, and said "so... who's the one who got drunk?"
The siblings exchanged perplexed looks. How does she know? Do I look that terrible? I didn't look terrible in the mirror.
Lily placed a hand on her hip, shifting her weight on one foot, breathing in slowly and squinting her eyes before speaking again "I heard someone throw up in the bathroom last night and as you had just been to a party... which one of my children got drunk?". Her tone was gentle but to her children it seemed to howl danger-better-run altogether.
"Actually me, Mom" real Chris answered sheepishly.
"Christopher! I thought you were more responsible! You're the older one, you should give good example to your little sister!"
"Yeah I know Mom..." He replied, a little embarrassed "Just I... didn't know this body would get drunk so fast, my real one doesn't... I had only a couple of glasses!"
"First of all, you shouldn't be drinking at all as long as you're underage for it! No matter the body. You're eighteen. No drinks. Secondly, why do you want to ruin your sister's body by getting intoxicated, uh? Show some respect to her!"
Real Chris was now drowning in complete shame. He felt so sorry for his mother's scolding angry words, for having disappointed her, and for having been so irresponsible towards his sister, that he only wanted to bury himself a hundred feet underground. He had been so stupid and selfish. He had got drunk without thinking about the consequences. Yes, he didn't see it coming but he just kept drinking after the first two shots making his drunkenness get worse.
"I'm sorry... I..."
"I drank too" real Claire said, cutting him off "I didn't get drunk only because Chris' body tolerates it. But I drank too!"
"Claire! You're sixteen! For God's sake! Chris? Did you just let your sister drink without intervene?"
"You cannot blame only Chris!" Claire angrily said, a shadow slowly sliding over her face "We both did it. We weren't together. Chris has always behaved perfectly with my body! He even stopped smoking since he is in it!"
Fortunately, Lily already knew about her son's bad habits or Claire might have just aggravated that discussion and their position by revealing such an information.
Chris had started smoking when he was fifteen and beardless and Carlos passed him his first cigarette in the school's toilet during a break. Until his eighteenth birthday, he kept it secret to anyone except for Claire.
She had caught him smoke one day, on a sunny mid-summer afternoon, when he was sixteen and she was fourteen, at their grandparents' house in the mountain side, where they were spending a couple of weeks of their vacation before she'd have gone to her summer camp.
He was hidden behind a large wooden cabin in the backyard, sitting on a chopped tree trunk, his back resting on the wooden wall, enjoying both tobacco and the cool air under the shadow casted by the tall trees surrounding the lawn, unseen from the gracious cottage. He hadn't heard her approach and winced badly when she poked her head from the cabin's corner.
"Fuck, Claire!" He yelled "you scared the shit out of me! I thought you were Grandpa!"
She came closer, staring at the little white tube in his hand.
"Don't tell anybody!" He said in a warning tone, pointing an offensive forefinger at her, cigarette still caught between his thumb and middle finger.
She nodded, caressing the loose auburn braid that fell graciously on her shoulder, and squatted beside him.
"You know, Chris... I kinda knew that." She said while fiddling the grass with some random thin stick she found on the ground. She looked at him and, in front of his questioning gaze, she explained "You may fool Mommy and Daddy but I smell the stink of your breath when you hug me."
He took another drag, with his intense hazel brown eyes staring in silence at his sister, now focused on flailing a lonesome nettle plant with the short stick.
"Come here." He resolutely said, beckoning her to take place on the ground between his spread open knees.
Perplexed, she did as told and knelt again in front of him placing her hands on his bare knees. A subtle ray of sunlight, filtering through the leafy elm, hit her hair and sprayed an aura of crimson reflexes, making her look like one of those Venuses in Renaissance's paintings. He looked straight at her blue eyes, two sapphires nestled in a thick layer of black eyelashes, the youth freckles over her nose and cheekbones emphasized by the summer tan.
He deftly turned the cigarette in his fingers and handed it to her.
"Take a drag." He softly said.
"What?!" She exclaimed, flinching in surprise.
"Take a drag!" He repeated smiling.
She was getting suspicious. Was he testing her? "Why?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Listen. In a couple of weeks you'll be going to your first summer camp without me. There will be tons of idiots over there trying to convince you to do stupid things. They will try to make you smoke for sure. I can bet my head on it. I know how those shitholes work. And I know you'll try it sooner or later, so I prefer being the one that makes you take the first drag. Because I know that if you don't like it now, you won't try again. If you like it... well you'd have started anyway in a nick of time so... and by the way, who am I to tell you not to do what I do?" He explained, trying to be clear enough to make her understand his true intentions.
He wasn't trying to get her addicted to smoke like him, but he was well aware of the fact that kids their age usually start smoking because a friend makes them try, or because the group pushes to take a drag. He had been one of those kids.
She still looked confused and unconvinced but she trusted her brother so she sheepishly nodded. "Ok..."
Truth be told, she was curious to taste the flavour of something so many people were such a fan of.
He placed the orange filter in front of her mouth, she just had to part her lips and... inhale. He grinned at her round cheeks hollowing for the suckling. She tilted her head back and coughed out all the white smoke she had sucked in.
"It sucks!" She yelled coughing hard and waved her hand to dissipate the smelly vapour.
"Another one." He gently commanded.
"Hell, no!" She giggled pushing his hand away. "It smells like rotten shit!"
He let out a growling laugh and brought the cigarette back to his mouth. "You sure you won't try again?" He asked, exhaling away from her direction.
"Yup!" She said standing up, leveraging on his knees. "I don't want to kill people with my stinking breath!"
He put away the cigarette, standing up as well and, with one flawless move, he picked her, lifting her slender body on his shoulder, gaining her amused squeal. "Let's go down to the river!"
As anticipated, he had revealed his bad habit to the rest of his family on his eighteenth birthday, during lunch in their dining room, when, right after having blown out the candles on his cake, he rose from his seat and took a brief speech.
"Well, today I'm officially an adult, right? I can vote, I'm fully responsible for my actions and so on. I still can't drink but..." he extracted the small package from his pocket "... but at least now I can smoke without hiding from you."
His parents glanced at each other and Robert huffed and rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Chris. As if we didn't know already."
Lily wasn't of the same careless opinion as her husband who, after all, unlike her, he had been a smoker too, and she raised a disapproving eyebrow at her son. She looked intensely at Claire, squinting her eyes, like an investigator, silently asking her to confess if she was smoking too, but her daughter, who was so skilled in reading her mind, simply chuckled and shook her head. She didn't want her kids to smoke or to drink or to do any bad thing. Her kids had to be decent people.
The dining room was the same, but not the kids facing her. They were a little older and they were switched. But most importantly they had drunk.
Unacceptable.
"Claire, this is not a justification. You both drank. Underage. I didn't raise my kids to behave like that! I don't want you to!"
"We don't want it either!" Real Claire screamed, hazel brown eyes full of tears "we didn't want to any of this fucking shit to happen! Our lives suck and you expect us to act like anything happened? UH? Like perfect normal kids?! We're no more kids Mom, and we're not even normal anymore! We're breaking down! CAN'T YOU SEE IT?!"
That shouted, leaving a startled Lily and a sorrowful Chris behind, she stormed back upstairs. A burly muscular male body, running and crying like a little girl, slammed the Girly Room door behind itself.
"Claire... it's me, Chris. May I come in?"
Few seconds passed before a humble "yes" came to his ears. He got in and closed the door. His sister was sitting on the ground, in front of the window, back resting on the bed side, her knees tucked to her chest and head hidden between those nervy arms of hers.
He took place next to her, kneeling down, hugging her tightly, and caressing her sobbing head.
"Don't worry, Claire..."
"..."
"Mom is just worried about us, honey. She loves us..."
"..."
"I know it hurts, I know how you feel..." He sighed and went on "...But at least her telling-off was a bit of... normality... We so fucking need it."
"..."
"It's just Mom, doing her job to raise us. She is suffering too. I'm sure. But she tries so hard to help us. Even if by only being... Mom."
Real Claire rose her head still without looking at him.
He cradled her in his arms but soon real Claire made him move and roughly tugged him between her bent legs, face to face, and hugged him back, still quietly sobbing, dipping her bearded face in his soft cleavage, nuzzling on his soft skin.
He raked his delicate fingers through her short dark hair, streaming his hands through her nape and placing soft kisses on her crown.
"Claire..." but he didn't muster any cheering word but a breathy "I love you."
"I love you too, Chris." she sobbed.
They might have been broken. They might have been fucked up. They might even have been nasty. But they were family. They had each other. Together they could face everything.
They stayed that way, relishing in each other's embrace, whispering softly. They didn't move even when they heard the landline phone ring somewhere in the house. It rang a bit before stopping. Maybe Lily had picked it up or maybe the calling one had just desisted. They didn't give a single fuck.
About five minutes later, or even less, someone knocked at the door.
It was Lily. She was shaken. But in a positive way. She just got in without waiting for a permission and she looked intensely at her kids, so tightly hugging. Fake Claire, in the position he was, facing the bedroom door, looked back at her. Fake Chris didn't make a move, she just kept her head on her brother's soft chest and her arms wrapped around his back. She was still pretty pissed at her mother.
"What's up Mom?" Real Chris asked, confused by his mother's gaze.
"Dad... He just called. He..." She was breathless.
Real Claire peeled away from her brother's voluminous breasts and violently turned her head towards her mother. "Did anything happen to him?" She asked with a scared trembling voice.
"No... He just... said that the machinery is complete." Lily said, and she needed to catch some breath when she was done.
Silence fell over the Redfield family.
"Mom... do you mean that... They made it? So quickly?"
"Robert said they still have to test it... But after the new results of the Quantico Simulator, they're sure it will work as they recreated on it the same process applied on the hardware built. They simulated the operation and the Simulator got a positive response to the transmigration. That's what he said."
"When will they switch us back?" Real Claire was gasping and impatient.
"Dad said they have still to do the definitive virtual try out, wait for the response of a side technical commission in Shanghai Umbrella's branch to check the project overall and give their permit for use on real people. Then they will experiment it on the two doctors who got switched too, before risking using the machine on you two! It might take a week or maybe less as Robert said."
Both Claire and Chris needed some time to elaborate what they had just heard. Now the chances to get back to normality were more than just hope. They were getting pretty concrete. It was almost real. They'd have their bodies back. Their lives back.
Lily streaked towards the bed not restraining her blissful laughter nor curbing her tears. The three of them burst into a liberating cry all together, holding tightly to each other, in a big family hug.
Their little quarrel of few minutes before was soon forgotten.
Besides, their father, when got home that evening, was so excited he just stormed in the living room, held tight fake Claire lifting him a bit and making him spin around. He couldn't do the same to fake Chris but he held her too in rackety jubilation.
Robert knew the stage of the works going on and seeing their father being so sure about the outcome made their day. Yes, he said that maybe a week wasn't enough for all the remaining procedures, unlike he had told Lily, but his kids were just so happy that willingly accepted any circumstance, any delay.
They all might sleep tighter that night.
Chris and Claire, however, were too heated up to sleep. It was late when a sneaky fake Chris made her way into the Girly Room. She was careful to make no sounds at all, looking around with circumspection. She wasn't doing anything requiring such secrecy but still she didn't feel any different.
Without knocking, well aware her brother was awake, she got in, climbed on bed, and rolled herself in her brother's arms, resting her head on his bosom. No dirty pillow talking. Nay, no talking at all. They just mollycoddled each other. It was sweetest. Each of them caressing the body they'd be getting back soon, almost like they wanted to savour the feel of touch, to impress it in their minds for when they would no more be able to touch those same bodies without feeling back the touch with their own skin.
Also, to remember how it feels to be touched in those bodies they were in.
They eventually fell asleep, nestled in their embrace, smiles sewn on their faces.
Part two - The last bites
School days passed slower than ever. To them seemed like time had bent, causing it to slow down to an unbearable pace, classes never ending, buses never passing, girls never stop talking. The waiting was wearing. The anticipation overwhelming.
They grew nervous with their friends. They didn't maltreat them but everyone sensed their obvious agitation. Leon, in particular, felt fake Chris more distant and standoffish than ever. He felt ignored. Avoided. He felt put aside. Fake Chris sensed that, and she just despised herself even more.
As to say, those last few days they had to spend swapped were the worst that far. And the more they got shattered by life the more their nightly talking and acting went nasty, with more and more explicit references. By a nose they didn't end up mutually masturbating once more, but their telling about how they ravaged each other's genitals were getting more detailed, smutty and intimate.
To make things even worse, fake Claire's hormones were going crazy again as he got periods once more, having the huge stress anticipated it to the sixteenth of the month, instead of the usual twenty-seventh like it occurred in September. And still, real Chris had problems handling it, as the said combination of disposition, hormones and anxiety was overtaking him once more. At least that time it wasn't much painful.
Many times fake Claire was scolded by professor Wesker for having spaced out.
"Miss Redfield, would you mind honour us of your attention?" He grunted annoyed, with his deep monotonous voice, his dark shades resting superb and bossy on his pointy nose.
Fake Claire shifted on his seat and nodded silently, trying to focus on the boring signs written on the black board.
When the bell rang, Wesker waved at the fake girl to approach his desk as he planned to exchange a little talk with the red-haired. Alone.
"Miss Redfield" he rattled low, without directly looking at her "that wasn't the first time I caught you not paying attention. And it's not the first time I have to stop my lesson to draw you back."
"I'm sorry, Professor Wesker, I..." Fake Claire muttered trying to muster a quick excuse to justify his total lack of interest in his boring explanations of how virus cells replicate themselves, but the sudden hard stare coming from the man's eyes, two golden-streaked light brown irises, unexpectedly freed from the black screen of his sunglasses, just silenced him.
Real Chris didn't like how his teacher was looking at him.
At her.
Wesker cleared his throat and stood up, bypassing the wide desk, and went closing the classroom door, glancing at the hallway with circumspection.
Real Chris could feel his whole body stiffen at such a hair-raising move. Wesker came closer again and bowed his tall, slender body taking a seat on the desk, one foot left dangling, while the other was firmly planted on the ground. His bent knee was just few inches away from fake Claire's pelvis.
Fake Claire looked up at him with harshness, he didn't like at all his closeness, nor the way his gaze was locked on him.
"I've kept an eye on you, Miss Redfield. I noticed how shattered you're getting and how difficult is becoming for you to remain focused." The blond man said, effortlessly oppressing him with his judgemental gaze.
"I'm just fine, Professor." Real Chris grunted, trying to hide his rising anger.
"Miss Redfield" Wesker continued, ignoring the fake girl's tone, and stood up closing the distance with his student "I'm not here to scold you. Don't mistake my intentions."
If that was meant to sound affectionate and caring, real Chris couldn't really tell. The teacher had spoken with his usual deep, soothe voice, without breaking eye contact for a single instant. Disquieting how he could stare into fake Claire's blue irises without blinking.
Wesker raised a hand and placed it on the girl's shoulder, softening his gaze but failing to purse it into a mild, compassionate expression. His hand climbing up the round shoulder before taking fly to the girl's face, two fingers gently pinching her chin.
Real Chris didn't like that touch nor his tall figure overhanging him and, struggling to keep control, he took a step back from him, silently warning the teacher not to make another move with his blue-eyed glare.
Chris had to struggle against his desire to punch the man in the balls but he fought it back lest to damage even more his sister's position. The last thing he wanted for her was a disciplinary measure for having beaten a teacher. But his self-control was challenged by Albert's forefinger who slithered upwards, caressing fake Claire's jawline.
Real Chris just flinched at that slight touch and instinctively tossed his face aside, away from the man's fingers. He couldn't stand that his sister's face had been touched by that creep, even less if in such a tender yet viscid way.
Wesker seemed not to like the fake girl's sudden insubordination. Was she defying his authority? Did she believe that playing rebellious would impress him? Would make him stand back? His stare hardened (real Chris' raging, paranoid mind would've sworn it wasn't the only thing hardening), a glimpse of disappointment, ire and amusement cracked on the teacher's face.
"You may keep your grades at your usual good level but I will have to consider your behaviour in my valuations." He grunted, turning away and showing no more interest to the girl's presence.
"Thanks for the advice." Real Chris lamely replied and left the room with disgust wrenching his gut. Motherfucking bastard swine!
On Sunday twenty-first, they were doing their homework inside Man's Cave when real Chris' phone rang.
"It's Grandpa John…" real Chris said, scraping his head in front of such an unexpected call. Grandpa John wasn't used to call his grandkids in the middle of the afternoon unless it was important. "Claire…. I reckon you gotta pick up."
His sister nodded, grabbed her brother's phone and answered. "Hello?"
"Hi, Chris, it's Grandpa." a rough, deep but jolly voice answered on the other end.
"Hi... Everything alright?" she asked whilst putting the speakerphone on.
"Listen, son, why don't you come on over at Jim's Bikes Cars? Got a little precious to show you." The man said with his strong Texan accent.
"Errr…" real Claire mouthed a silent what-am-I-supposed-to-say at her brother, who just shrugged. "T-today…?" she asked, buying some time.
"I need your advice, son. As you worked on that mechanical workshop last summer, you surely understand if an engine is in good condition!" the old man replied.
"Advice? Do you want to buy a new car, Grampy?" she asked, trying to investigate a little bit her grandfather's intention.
"Grampy? Ahahaha Chris! Never heard you call me that way in eighteen years!" A crackling rough laugh flew out of the speaker "until it's Claire calling me like that is ok... but my big buff grandson... with his manly voice... ahahaha!"
Claire bit her tongue. No, Chris never called Grandpa John that way.
"You know, Grandpa... she's so contagious when she goes childish" she said, hoping for him to buy it.
John Redfield didn't mind the funny blunder anymore and went on with his purpose "Anyway, I ain't buying any new car, son. I'm never going to give my old lady away! No, I just found a good American-made motorcycle" the two kids heard some tapping-on-metal sound "One of those they used to make back in my days, not like those plastic and tin bicycles for spineless kids they do nowadays." He said, spitting those last words out in disdain. "But ol' Jim here would sell even his mother for a couple of bucks." the elder giggled while, in the distance, someone scoffed at him.
The two kids stared at each other. Real Claire was trying to invent a good excuse to decline the invitation, real Chris instead was curious to know more and with a swing of the head beckoned her to accept.
"Uhm… ok… ok, Grandpa. I'll meet you there, ok?"
"Great, Chris! I'll be waiting. See ya." John said and hang up.
Real Claire gave the phone back to her brother and asked "Chris, how the hell am I supposed to know about engines?"
In fact, despite being pretty fond of motorcycles, all her knowledge about mechanics were limited to basic notions, unlike Chris who could easily dismantle and reassemble a motorbike all by himself with all the practical expertise he got.
"Don't worry, Claire. I'll come with you."
"What if he asks me details?"
"Well…" he slyly replied "we have a whole car ride to put up a secret code."
"A secret what?!"
Fake Chris parked the car in front of Jim's store and killed the engine. A towering elder man, with grey moustache highlighting a white smile and a ponderous gait soon approached their car.
"Claire!" John exclaimed, flashing a smile at his granddaughter and hugging that dainty, feminine body "Chris didn't tell me you'd come too!"
"Well… when he said the words Grandpa and motorcycle I just couldn't hold back!" fake Claire chuckled.
Right behind John there was a short, bald man, with a prominent round fat belly on a pair of short chicken legs. His tummy was so unproportioned that he needed to wear braces not to lose his pants when walking. He was the store Owner, Jim, and he had the typical exaggerated smile and smart expression sellers usually have. Together they went inside the store and John showed them a vintage cruiser bike, all covered by a thick layer of dust, the once reddish gas tank corroded by rust, some metal pieces seemed to be missing but it still radiated the old glory of past times. Overall it wasn't that bad.
Fake Chris pretended to analyse it while fake Claire did just the same but trying not to make it too evident.
"So?" John asked expectantly. "What do you think?"
Fake Chris glanced at her brother and a silent nod and an ear rub suggested her the answer "It's pretty good. It needs some fixing but it can be done easily."
"Great!" John exclaimed "I was actually worried about the ignition circuit breaker… looks damn damaged!"
"Well… uh… you can change it…" fake Chris muttered, while fathoming her brother's face for any suggestion, but unsuccessfully as fake Claire was lost in scanning the motorcycle's features with extreme attention.
Some say motorcycles are designed to resemble women's curves and, for Chris, the shape of that old-fashioned jewel was more than just provocative. Like a Homeric mermaid it called him, seduced him, attracted him as of an enchantment. His grandfather was right, they don't design beauties like that anymore!
Real Chris bit his lip, trying to resist the desire to ride that shabby antique so damned stupendous, but soon he gave up to temptation and sat astride on that scraped leather seat, placing hands and feet on the right spots as to get ready to start a race. Bent forward that way, he couldn't help thinking how damn hot Claire would've looked in that position. He regretted not having a mirror in that moment. Still, he was sure she looked sexy.
He stomped on the starter pedal but it seemed locked. He tried again and again but it just didn't move.
"Chris… uhm… would ya help me? I'm too light for it!" he said addressing to his sister.
Fake Chris came closer and with a single hit and all her weight she got to lower the pedal but unsuccessfully.
Old Jim smirked and scoffed at the fake girl "You know little girl, engines need a little thing called fuel to start."
Fake Claire glared the short, bald guy a pissed look. "Then why didn't you put some in? You know, customers usually want to try the thing before buying, little man." fake Claire hissed. You idiot.
"Claire!" John tried to scold her for the impertinent answer but he couldn't help laughing at her sauciness.
But real Chris didn't even mind his grandad words, he was too raptured by the vintage gears. He absentmindedly mumbled about the vehicle he was riding, even if he didn't mean to be that loud nor being actually heard by others.
John Redfield looked at his fake granddaughter with a surprised face "Do you think so, Claire? I had no idea you were an expert too."
Fake Claire looked around pretty embarrassed "Well... Chris taught me something… some secrets…"
"Yeah, Claire" fake Chris said, seizing the opportunity to get out of a troubled situation. "Tell Grandpa how well you learnt!"
Fake Claire started talking about all the things in the motorcycle that needed to be changed or fixed, with his sister giving fake nods of approval at his words.
In the end an impressed Jim and a totally surprised John complimented with the fake girl. John didn't mind hiding his paternal pride.
"Chris, she seems even better than you, son!" John joked "do you mind if I call her next time?"
That same evening, when the two kids went back home from the car dealer, they found Robert waiting for them by the front door.
He carried them inside and announced his family that the Shanghai team had sent their permission. They'd be trying the machine on Miller and Parker the following day. He was welcomed by smiles, tears, claps, hoorays and... Fake Chris running away from the dining room, flickering madly and hardly breathing.
She was having another panic attack.
What if the machine didn't work? She had hope now, what would remain her then? How could them survive such news? The thought of Chris reacting to it, his delusion and sorrow, broke her sore heart.
When finally, some light was sparkling at the end of that monstrous, fearsome tunnel, she was overwhelmed by negative thoughts and dread. Such a fertile soil for panic to grow luxuriant.
It took all the rest of the family around her to calm her down and alleviate her mind.
The following day school went even slower. But when they headed back home, they found Robert already there, on the sofa, crying. Their hearts stopped. Hands locked.
He got up, looked at his kids and was only able to stutter a simple "it worked".
Surely their neighbours would have thought something was wrong with the Redfields as loud screams of joy came from that house.
END OF THE FIRST ACT
Xaori, that poorly written Wesker's scene up there, was inspired by your Wesker. But mine is a little puppy compared to your evil bitch! Anyway, this chapter is for you! Thank you with all my heart!