I'd really like to thank here all the people reaching out on Instagram who DM me all they support and theories and all the readers who dedicate a little of their time to keep up with this. I'd have never imagined this story to get so much appreciation!
Since it's Mother's Day here Italy, what a nice occasion for me to celebrate it with my fictional babies?
Are you ready to visit one last remaining room in the house? If you haven't seen the floor maps on my Instagram yet, don't worry, I'll describe.
Attention: vibes and dialogues ahead, so get comfortable and savour each paragraph.
Chapter 33 – Welcome (back) to Raccoon City
Part 1 – Sweet Home Raccoon
November 25th, Sunday
Although a subtle cold breeze descended and stirred from the surrounding mountainside, the winter hadn't taken a hold of Raccoon City yet. Autumn was still all the rage on that Sunday afternoon and the snow wasn't much more than a distant whitish halo on the uneven horizon.
The family car drove through the lively streets, the bridge across the river, the roundabout near the Clock Tower. Raccoon City was all about the heartening feeling of familiar places, welcoming them back into a cosy golden nest.
Claire sat on the backseat all snuggled under Chris's armpit, while he gently held her flush against his torso throughout the whole way home. Both kept looking out the windowpanes, absently watching mountain landscapes progressively blur into an urban scenery. On the front seats, Lily breathed a sigh of relief as she glanced at the rear-view mirror, whereas Robert wouldn't erase a smug-daddy expression off his face: everything had returned to normality.
If only they knew.
If only they even slightly suspected, Rob would do a harsh U-turn and recklessly drive straight to the nearest hospital. If not to get Claire treated, at least to get closer to a functioning defibrillator for himself and his impending heart attack.
Finally, home.
Family and bags rolled into the living room like an avalanche of mayhem, bringing liveliness back into the house after a whole weekend of quiet.
Careless of his wife's requests to help her out with the bags, Robert started a crazed tour of inspection of every single potted houseplant in the house. He'd left his leafy babies alone for so many days...! Every close-up examination was usually followed by hushed mumbling and little grunts of botanical displeasure. Lily knew it was a matter of seconds before her husband would start hurriedly carrying water and bio-fertilizer all around the first floor. At this point, Lily may as well just leave the bags be for a while and rather follow her gardening-enthusiast clumsy husband with a mop.
With the excuse of unpacking, Chris and Claire soon disappeared upstairs in their respective bedrooms, waiting for the commotion to sedate. Of them two, only Claire would actually unpack. Chris, instead, as soon as he closed the bedroom door, he placed the travel bag next to the bookshelf, destined to be paid no more attention to for the rest of the day.
Unpacking wasn't a priority.
Neither it was to dejectedly lean against the door, yet he did so.
Chris was a different person the last time he'd been there. Mind-blowing how much one's life can change in the turn of one weekend. Was it the first taste of what adulthood is like?
Man's Cave coldly welcomed him.
It was the only room in the whole house he could call his own, yet it made him feel like an intruder, an unwanted presence. As though there'd be no shelter in the world for a filthy criminal of his shitty league.
For some self-harming reason, Chris's imagination pictured all those perm-haired dudes in the posters judge him in his walk of shame to the opposite corner of the room, where he went to open the first window and let sunlight in. Chris could almost hear those seventies and eighties rockstars in glam tights and skimpy tank tops confabulate. Ironically, those same dudes have had the most scandalous and craziest lifestyles, yet Chris felt like they'd be all grossed out! The boldest of them would even hiss some sort of "I told you so" as if they were in the actual position to judge. Only the Lynyrd Skynyrd ol' pack seemed to smirk and nod in pride, ultimately adding insult to the injury.
Chris grabbed the window handle and shook his head to dispel his nonsensical fantasies away.
He didn't even know where to start counting his misfortunes.
Not that there was any actual use of it. To count them wouldn't certainly make his condition seem easier nor his future look brighter.
Frowning, Chris rolled the shutters open and then walked to his desk, determined to start mending his troubles. He needed information.
Tons of it.
Claire tucked her empty travel bag back into its usual place in the darkest corner of the closet.
All her unused clothes had been stored back; so were her perfume, hair straightener, shoes... all around her, tidiness ruled unparalleled. The closet, the bedroom, the chest of drawers, the desk, everything was spotless, neat, aesthetically pleasing. Even those tiny succulents in the cute pots on the shelves were spot-on and looking hydrated and super healthy.
But she... she felt so drained.
She'd put so much care and attention in tidying up, as though to get neatness around would positively affect the havoc ruling within her.
No lights were on inside the walk-in closet: neither the spots on the ceiling nor the pink neon lights on the wall. Only the bright daylight coming from the open window in the adjacent bedroom filtered through the translucent pearl strings on the entrance. Such mild twilight offered this welcoming feeling of safety and quite invited to take shelter in the closet and never come out. But how are shadows ever able to protect when it's known that every danger hides in the darkest places? Sometimes, the comfort we hide into is precisely the lair where all the most beastly monsters are nestled, and the steel bars we convince ourselves to be shielding us are just their claws.
So was Claire's closet, surprisingly.
Claire observed her own reflection on the wall-wide mirror on the opposite far-end. She hoped for it to look back in pity or, at least, in disapproval. Instead, all she could see were the memories of all the depravation she and her brother had consumed inside there. She was doomed to only watch the replay of their sin displayed on the mute glass of that mirror forever. Like mental holograms.
Ironically, the glass truly mirrored her: both were haunted by invisible shadows.
All in all, the feeling of comfort was an illusion.
Yet, furniture tells no tales. Her body, instead, would soon be revealing every secret it carried. She had to act fast but she feared it'd not be as easy as tidying up a room.
Act fast... but how fast? How much time had she left actually?
Claire took a few steps towards the mirror and observed her belly from all sides. She even raised the hem of the shirt and glided her palm down on it to be sure her eyes weren't mistaking.
It was still perfectly flat.
"Can you just stay like this?" Claire whispered and, as soon as those words escaped her mouth, she bit her tongue, regretting every one of them, especially the word "you".
No, there was no "you". It had to be none.
Claire forcibly shook her head. She was referring to her stomach! Yeah, she was talking to her stupid uterus, asking for it to just stay flat and not start swelling.
She tugged the hem down and sleeked the fabric across her stomach.
No way, no way. She definitely wasn't talking to anyon-anyTHING other than her own flesh.
Then why it felt like that when caressing it?
A short beep came on her rescue.
Chris: can you come over for a moment?
Part 2 – Clear picture
Claire simply entered Man's Cave without knocking.
Being both windows' shutters open, that bedroom was even brighter than Girly Room, flooded in that typical pure light that only autumn days can serve in spite of the fact that the sun would set in a couple of hours. The record-player on the bookshelf was on, playing some random rock-music compilation, set on a volume that would allow to muffle their voices without drawing unwanted notice from the rest of the family.
Chris was waiting for her by his desk, brown eyes reflecting the white-and-blueish rectangular halo of the computer screen. As soon as he acknowledged her presence in his field of vision, hardly looking away from the monitor, Chris beckoned to her to come closer and take a look at what he had to show.
Claire's eyebrows jumped up at the ridiculous number of open tabs in the internet browser. It never came to her the title bars could shrink that much!
"I've done some research." Chris muttered, speaking in hushed tones.
"I see!" Claire sarcastically exclaimed and, pointing at the computer, she asked, "may I?"
Chris promptly stood up and let her take his seat. He stood right next to her while she ran her eyes over some of the content showing. She clicked on each tab, simply skimming the main titles. It all was about abortion, state laws and underage. The amount of schoolbooks-level stock pictures of demure-looking women was annoying. Claire couldn't help but frown a little. Is it like that how she was expected to feel? Contrite and abashed?
"Apparently, since we live where we live," Chris said, condensing the info he'd collected into a few, simple words, "we need an adult permission since you're not eighteen yet. That's the hardest part. But once we get one, it's all downhill from there. I was thinking we coul-"
"What is this one about?" Claire wondered, interrupting his concise exposition.
"Oh, uh, that one..." Chris muttered and sighed loudly, scraping an eyebrow with a thumb, "that one is, uh, is just some ungodly crap."
"What do you mean?"
Chris leant with his back onto the desk top beside her and crossed his arms over the chest, shaking his head as he tried to find a way to explain to his little sister the worst part of what he'd found, without losing his cool. "Well, apparently, it's some sort of company offering help to women who want to get an abortion. You know, they promise discretion and that's why I actually clicked on their website but... you can see something's off by yourself."
Claire read more carefully what the page read. "I don't get it... it seems alright to me."
Chris's jaw and lips tightened. He hardly managed to curb a grimace of disgusted hatred. "I searched about them and turns out they're just a bunch of religious fanatics who brainwash women not to get an abortion while pretending to help them."
Claire grimaced in hurt shock. "Can they? Shouldn't it be illegal?"
Chris had no idea how far free enterprise is supposed to go in the United States. "Just close that tab, please."
"Definitely."
"Anyway," Chris resumed, once the click of the mouse assured that he was no more to lay his eyes on those filthy rats' website, "as far as I could see, time limit is fixed at twenty-four weeks."
"That's... that's six months!" Claire mumbled, after a quick mental calculation, "in six months I'll be... I'll have a bump the size of a goddamn watermelon!"
"Yeah, we can't wait that long," Chris agreed, "that's why we need to get going as soon as possible. Especially considering that the counting starts from the last period you had."
"You mean that you had!"
"Yeah," Chris sighed, "anyway we've got about a little less than five months left."
Quite interrupting him again, Claire asked "have you found anything about the risks?"
"Oh, uh, it'll be performed in a hospital," Chris mumbled, lowering the volume of his voice to a whisper, despite the alleged protection of the music playing, "so I guess they'll inform us about every risk of the treatment once we get there, but I don't know, I guess it's safe if so many women do it."
Claire rolled her eyes at his direction and deadpanned. "I mean the risks of the pregnancy."
A frown of confusion furrowed Chris's brows and made his eyes squint.
Claire nodded at all the open tabs and said, "we should search also for what are the concrete risks of, you know, making a baby with a sibling?"
"What are you talking about?" Chris gasped, "are you- God, are you planning to keep it up?!"
Claire sighed in exasperation. "Geez no, Chris. For your information, I'm planning nothing right now."
"But you're considering it!"
"No, I... I just..." Claire exhaled, "I just want to have a clear picture if I have to make a decision."
"Of course it's so full of risks!" Chris exclaimed, on the verge of losing it, "we share the same blood! What else do you need to get a clear picture?!" He roared quietly, a tone of mocking veiled his words. "It'll not get any clearer than this no matter what you find!"
"Well, sue me if I want some real expert telling me I'll give birth to a fucking monster." Claire sputtered with all the chagrin she mustered, intentioned to make him get that mean reference to his own very words of a few days prior.
Chris took the blow in his stride. His frown darkened, his jaw tightened more. He flared like a bull. And he nearly lost it. "But what for?! What's the point of it?" He growled, and air-quoting he continued, "even if you get this real expert telling you what you already know, then what?"
Claire forcefully jumped up on her feet and confronted him with an unforgiving death-stare. "Listen to me," she roared, her voice quivering in anger in spite of the muffled tone it was forced to keep, "the day it'll be your body to get involved into this, you'll have a say in it. Until then, it's up to me to decide what I need. And I need to know. End of conversation."
"It's not just about your body, Claire!" Chris retorted and aggressively leaned towards her, towering over her slim frame, "you said we share the fault! You said that! If I have to share the fault then I want to share everything else! Decisions included!"
Claire tightened her lips into an irate pout, and snarled, in a way that left no room to any possible compromise, "I said, end, of, conversation."
Slapped right in the face by her killer blue scowl, Chris snorted aloud and stomped to the nearest window, away from her hateful tone and look. He hoped for the coolness radiating from the glass to help him cool down as well before he'd lose his mind so hard that no blasting music could cover his exasperate roars.
He heard the chair behind him being moved, and squeak lightly as his sister most likely sat back down. Then he heard the tapping of typing go then stop, then resume, then stop again. Then the click of the mouse.
Chris exhaled deeply.
He'd fucked up again.
Who was he to impose his sister what to need?
She needed answers? Fine, let her find them, he thought. It's not like she'd find anything that'd encourage her not to get an abortion, after all.
The same blood.
Siblinghood.
There'd be no fucking real expert telling her otherwise than to get rid of that ungodly embryo.
On his side, Chris needed to know nothing more. To him, it was a no-brainer. He'd already made up his mind, there were no doubts lurking. He only had to wait for Claire to join him in such clarity.
Chris legitimately hated himself now. How hateful of him to expect Claire to be on his same wavelength. She was right. At the end of the day, she was the only one to be really involved by the decision, no wonder she wanted to be all the way cautious and scrupulous about it and bone up as hell.
What a dick he'd been.
Chris's forehead gently hit the glass, dejected, as he sighed out "I'm sorry."
"You better be," Claire promptly delivered.
Chris turned and stared at her until the feeling of having his eyes set on herself compelled Claire to turn as well and stare back. "I am sorry," he murmured, "I mean it."
There was no way Claire could ever get used to that tone of him. In those past days she'd heard him speak that broken and downhearted quite a few times and it was always painful to her. She nodded in acceptance of his apology and turned back to the computer screen only pretending to resume reading.
It'll take her a while to regain the needed concentration when all she wanted now was to jump at his neck and hold him tight.
The loud sigh was the signal he'd been patiently waiting for in the last forty minutes or so.
It meant Claire was finally done with her hopeless research.
After the first ten minutes where he'd just paced around the room like a... like a father-to-be in the maternity ward waiting room, Chris had slumped onto the bed, lying crosswise on the big mattress, feet still on the floor, waiting for that moment when Claire would finally break that silence made of keyboard sounds and mouse wheel scrolling.
When the music had stopped, he didn't even bother to stand up and put another vinyl on. After all, it wasn't like there was any other conversation coming in sight. The low buzz of the finished record offered a comfortable white-noise background that soon faded into a perception of silence.
Chris lay with both hands resting onto his torso, alternating long ceiling stare-downs with equally long periods of closed-eyes. He hated every minute that passed.
He believed that Claire was only ultimately hurting herself by doing that research. Chris was sure he'd never like to read anything telling him he carried an awful abomination inside the belly. So how could his little sister do it so willingly? What pushed her to be so needy for info?
More than once, Chris had breathed out a long sigh at the thought of what Claire must be feeling right now. What a fucking feeling of oppression would she be suffering? Still, she managed to keep it all together, when all he wanted to do was to run... away... with her.
His eyes cracked wide-open on the spot.
Shaking his head, Chris sat upright and looked at the desk direction. Claire sat all slouched against the gaming chair backrest, lazily clicking closed each tab, one by one.
"Guess I'll have a whole lot of web history clean-up to do," he chuckled.
Claire shrugged and shut down the web browser window altogether.
"So?" Chris hummed, "found anything?"
With a little push of her feet, the chair spun so that Claire faced him. She looked a bit tired and all her facial muscles were tense but she moved calmly. Unwilling to stand up and walk, she used her feet like a pair of paddles and rolled towards the bed, until Chris was close enough to just grab the armrests and drag her and the chair all the way between his knees.
That position allowed them a deeper sense of privacy and intimacy, so as to ease them a little while talking.
Claire peeled off the backrest to hunch onward and rest her forehead against his. She slid her hands around his head and laced her fingers on his neck. Her cold touch sent shivers down his spine but Chris didn't flinch in the least.
"It's dangerous," Claire whispered.
"I know."
"It's dangerous for the baby," she continued, "there might be illnesses, and..."
"And?"
"Nothing." Claire shook her head and entwined her fingers tighter to pull him even closer.
Chris couldn't really see it but he sensed her frown darken nonetheless. He was the only one of them to keep his eyes open in the meanwhile. Being so close, he couldn't actually see her face in a way that'd help him read her mind, yet, he couldn't help watching. Moreover, he wouldn't pass on the chance of feeling her so close to him: her warmth, her perfume, the smooth touch of her skin, even her pulse across the forehead. It reminded him of all the times they'd kissed.
"Tell me, I want to know what you know," Chris exhorted, his humid breath warmed the thin skin of her lips as he spoke, "if we have to be on the same page, there can't be secrets between us. We gotta act like a team."
Claire sighed and gave in, "they... they say... you know, it's all about probabilities. And I… it's just... I don't really know what to think anymore. I don't know." Claire muttered, "I'm even more confused than before, you know? 'cause now I know nothing's for sure, it's all about danger and nothing about certainty…"
"What are you suggesting, Claire?" Chris asked, cutting short through all the confusion that her words brought along.
Claire whimpered under her breath. "How can I take such a big decision if all I know is based on possibilities?"
"We can solve this," Chris encouraged, trying to keep her grounded with his calm tone, "the doctors will surely tell-"
"Tell us what?" Claire scoffed, snatching her forehead away from Chris's, even though she didn't let go of him. Headshaking, she looked at him in self-pity. "It's not like we can tell them who the real father is."
"Actually, we can." Chris said, looking straight into her eyes, "they won't rat us out to the police or to our parents. Patient records are confidential, Claire."
"But we committed… a crime… I can't see h-"
"Trust me, I checked," Chris uttered, staring into her eyes with all the maturity his eyes could possibly convey. "This ain't one of those crimes doctors should report to the authorities."
"Oh, well... that sounds... that sounds encouraging," Claire admitted, "kinda."
"It is, honey, it is," Chris murmured and stroked her face, gently thumbing her cheekbones. He sensed her come undone and melt under his lingering touch, revelling in the calming proximity of him. And Chris did just about the same. His voice morphed into a purring buzz. "Mom and Dad won't be informed, especially if we won't be needing their formal permission. Speaking of, I was thinking we could ask grandma."
"What?!" Claire squealed just to be immediately shushed back into a careful low tone by Chris. As she regained her composure, Claire wondered, low but astonished, "are you out of your mind?!"
"We need an adult permission. Not necessarily our parents'," Chris explained, "we can actually get it from our grandparents. It's possible and legal."
"I don't care if it's legal!" Claire protested, "we can't just trust granny and tell her-"
"She already knows."
Claire's blue eyes widened until the irises almost disappeared, engulfed by the white of the eyeball. She retreated and straightened back up on the seat, interposing distance between her and Chris. "Excuse me?!" was all she could cough out.
Chris exhaled aloud and, nodding in self-encouragement, he spoke, "I told her the truth about us, no, please, Claire, let me finish," he said in earnest, showing his open palm to stop her from saying anything before he'd clarified how things went. "If you thought she'd noticed nothing last night in the bathroom then you- we, we were wrong, honey. She approached me this morning. In the cabin. She'd already jumped to the conclusions so... I could only confirm."
"You could've lied!" Claire gasped, still struggling to believe her own ears.
"Trust me, Claire," Chris murmured, looking at her straight in the eyes, "I would have if I could. But I couldn't."
Claire scoffed aloud and shook her head away from his stupid look of beaten dog. She gave a strong push with her feet against the bedside and rolled a good couple of feet backwards. "I can't believe it! Fucking hell, this is a- goddamn!"
Chris cleared his throat and continued, "Grandma knows only about our, uhm, relationship, though," his speech was low and steady, sounding surprisingly calm and reassuring, "she doesn't suspect about the pregnancy, unless she has x-rays sight."
Claire heavily eyerolled at that stupid attempt at humour. She took her face in her hands and, massaging her temples, she tried to cool down. After a few moments of quiet waiting, she spoke again, "tell me what happened exactly."
Sparing no details, Chris briefly recounted the events of that morning, how he got trapped into the cabin and what exactly grandma Mary happened to know already and what she'd learnt from him. Claire listened heedfully, flaring in rage when she heard about her father's involvement and frowning in sorrow anytime the narrative shifted to Chris's side of the conversation.
"...and she promised." Chris concluded, after a short yet thoughtful pause. Even though Mary hadn't actually spelled those words and hadn't openly taken any oath, Chris felt he could trust her. "I think we can trust granny to be by our side. After all, it's not like we've got a choice."
"I need a break." Claire whimpered, overwhelmed.
"But babe..."
"Please."
"Claire, we can keep putting this off but it'll keep getting back to us," Chris said, sounding a little bossy but the situation quite required him so. He pointed a finger at the computer and said, "you saw it with your eyes, how complicated this can get. And you know there ain't much time. Can we please at least start-"
"We're not gonna call granny."
"Baby…"
"Not today," Claire stated, taking deep breaths before speaking again, "not before we've talked to a doctor and definitely not before I have a clear picture."
Chris exhaled through his nose in a surrendering manner. Claire's voice had quivered that tad enough for him to recall all the guilt of a few minutes before. "Okay, then," he said and stood up from the bed. "Okay. If it's fine to you, it's fine to me."
"Listen, I don't wanna waste time, don't get me wrong, Chris," Claire said, a sad and imploring frown furrowing her features, "I just don't wanna get anyone else involved until… until I feel prepared to deal with all the shit coming at us. You say granny's gonna be by our side and I wanna believe you but…"
"But better safe than sorry, right?"
Claire nodded and, sighing out, she stood up as well and walked into his steady bear hug. His body warmth felt pretty cathartic to her.
Chris looped his big arms around her shoulders and dipped his head into the crook of her neck so hard that her hair was all over his face, and he gently warned, "we need to get going, try not to forget that."
Claire tightened her hold around his chest and muttered against his meaty shoulder, "baby steps, honey."
Chris let out a sound snort into her hair and chuckled, "baby things are quite what I fear the most right now."
"Oh, come on…!" Claire scoffed.
Chris drew a crack back from the hug to look at Claire's face. "I missed your smile."
Part 3 – evenfall
Days were visibly shortening.
At each eventide, the aureate hues of sunset progressively discoloured to cooler shades of pale yellow to firstly announce the coming of the coldest of seasons. The last light of that weekend would shine for another good forty minutes at least, before entirely receding in favour of the evening dusk.
House Redfield was ready to finally wrap that long, incredibly long Thanksgiving weekend and give start to a new week of routine.
Though, that Sunday still had a few hours to go and so was Chris's and Claire's undercover plot. That first round of research in Man's Cave, had ended up with them two agreeing to book a visit by a doctor as soon as possible.
To avoid the risk of meeting anyone they knew – like, for example, Leon's mother, nurse Martha – they decided to search for an available doctor in the near Arklay City's hospital. The last time they'd been there, namely for Riley's birth, they'd only heard good things about that place. To them it seemed a perfect solution that'd assure both competence and discretion.
But to book a visit, it meant to use their father's computer, since it was from that specific terminal that all of the household health insurance was managed and, neither of them two had ever had to book a visit before so they had no damn clue about passwords and stuff like that. They tried to figure out if there was a way to skip the whole insurance thing, but they soon discovered that, without it, to pay for a visit was something more expensive than all their pocket money savings together could afford. Never before in their lives, the siblings had ever wished to get access to some sort of public health system but now. Now they kind of started seeing why it seemed to be such a big deal in the public debate.
Determined not to let another day pass without having at least taken the first "baby step" in the correct direction, Chris and Claire decided to wait until later that evening to sneak into Rob's home office and do some hacking stuff.
By the time Claire left Man's Cave, it seemed they'd put down some sort of action plan.
As soon as she saw her daughter walk down the stairs, Lily busied her with some new laundry chores.
"Aren't they already clean?" Claire wondered, grimacing in confusion at the embroidered bedsheets her mother just handed her.
"Yes, but after so many weeks being stuffed into Mary's travel bag… they need a refreshing wash," Lily sneered, "I'm not gonna iron them like this."
"They need ironing too?!"
Lily curled her lips in a wry grimace, "of course! They didn't do all this needlework by hand just to let these bedsheets end up on a bed all wrinkly and shabby, Claire!"
Claire observed the bright-coloured embroidery, the precision in which every stitch had been delivered, the utmost neatness of the work, she could only assume that her mother was right. It was a remarkable piece of handiwork.
Shrugging, the girl took her personal European gift in the basement, to do laundry.
"Delicate cycle!" Lily recommended aloud.
"Sure thing!" Claire shouted over her shoulder and disappeared downstairs.
Right after his sister had left, Chris sat back at his desk to do the web history clean-up he'd previously mentioned. He hadn't been kidding about it. Even if his computer was protected by a password, those search results had to disappear. Damn, he'll erase even the downloaded pdfs!
Just as he was about to select what needed to be wiped off, his eye fell on a particular query. More specifically, on a particular word.
Stillbirth.
He sure hadn't come across it during his research, therefore it must've been something Claire found on her own. The word itself sounded quite self-explanatory, yet Chris checked it out all the same.
What he found, it hurt him.
It hurt him in a way that it'd be difficult for him to ever snatch that word out of his brain from that moment on.
Allegedly – Chris shuddered at this – when Claire said it was dangerous for the baby, she meant that it could even mean… death. Its death. Death before being even born. The idea that his sister could ever give birth to a dead baby filled Chris with horror and bottomless concern. Because Claire had read about that and, notwithstanding, she wanted to know more before deciding that abortion was the only practicable way.
It shattered his heart into a thousand shards.
Part 4 – On the sly
The ending of that weekend meant girls night out for Lily.
She and her girls had a gourmet dinner planned for the night, plus wine degustation by the inaugural party of Gayle's wife new art gallery in Redstone Street. Basically, they'd spend the evening doing all the stuff that would bore their respective husbands to death.
Useless to say, Robert was more than happy to stay home and not have to drag himself and his inexistent interest in surrealist painting out there. To be fair, the chance to miss his wife all squeezed into a tube dress made him a little less happy, but still not enough to make the alternative of pretending to appreciate random stains of paint look appealing.
Once Lily had left, Chris and Claire offered to prepare dinner and take care of the dishes afterwards. This, both to pass time and... favour their father's movie night. By the time the dishes were done and the kitchen was cleaned, in fact, Robert already blissfully snored on the couch while a thriller movie "entertained the furniture", as usual.
That's when Chris and Claire sneaked into his office, on the sly.
Rob's home office was the smallest room in the house, if one does not consider the bathrooms and the pantry. Located right next to the master bedroom, it was the last room on the first-floor angular corridor. Its door opened right opposite the guests' room and the big glass door to the terrace.
Being Robert's office, Lily's fine taste in furbishing spaces had had to stop on the threshold. That room had been all Rob's doing and it screamed "do I look like an office enough?" all the way.
One wall was entirely occupied by a bookshelf, overly stuffed with books of genres spanning from sub-atomic science to comics collections. On the opposite wall, a big window let in abundant daylight to brighten the wooden floor and the many certificates, prizes and children's drawings hung on the bottom wall.
Lastly, the corners of the room and the file cabinet beside the window were decorated by various houseplants of whom Rob was particularly fond. And that he'd somehow saved from dehydration, after the oversight they'd suffered during the long days when he'd had to stay away from his home office to put up that devilish soul-catching reversing machine down in the Umbrella's underground labs.
Right in front of the door, a long wooden executive desk stood to catch the attention of everyone who entered. Massive and opulent, not in the size rather in the style, the desk was as classy as it was a complete mess. Papers, pens, clips, pencil shavings and the crumbly remains of many snacks cluttered the desktop. A green table lamp and a computer were the only two things to seem on place on that.
When they were younger, Chris and Claire loved to spend time in there both with Robert in or out. The executive desk had served as a secret fort for so many times in the past when both siblings were still small enough to fit below it. It still carried an ugly scratch Claire did on the inner panels with a sharpener and it still bore the heart-warming appeal of childhood old times.
This time though, they hadn't got in to play any fun games.
As Claire went straight to the desk and turned on the pc, Chris took care to gently pull the door to.
It took them a while only to understand how to book medical visits, then to find out how health insurance works was a whole different thing. But they made it in the end. They took care to make sure that any further communication regarding that specific booking would go straight to their personal emails and, then, proceeded to erase every proof of their doings from that terminal.
They felt smart.
Part 5 - downside
A quarter past one in the morning. That is to say, in the middle of the night.
Everyone in the house was asleep or supposed so.
He didn't know about the others but Chris sure wasn't sleeping. Not that he wasn't tired, or that he didn't need to hit the sack and doze off, it just hadn't happened yet. He'd had to take care of some remaining homework and prepare for the following school day and, just like that, almost midnight. Then, the other hour and a half had gone by with him lounging on his bed, alternating moments of deep thought to random texting with his friends.
Chris felt a stranger calm.
It'd stuck around for a while now. At least since he'd pressed that "book visit" button on his father's computer earlier that afternoon. Just one click and he knew he was one step closer to keep his sister away from any stillbirth and other tragedies. Even if it solved nothing so far, such a simple action had made him feel so useful and protecting. Almost mighty.
Paradoxically, this calm was unsettling. Chris knew that all his troubles were still there, yet to have just taken the first step had reassured him so much – let it be a "baby step" or not, call it what you want.
He and Claire were doing right, for once. Soon, the whole thing would be taken care of and belong to the past. Maybe this matter wasn't as big as it seemed, after all. It was pretty grave, sure, but not irreparable. And this sounded greatly good to him.
Or... was it all just a delusive impression?
Was it just the quiet before the storm? That little instant of stillness before the whole world crushes down in a thousand shards?
Despite how hard he tried to find a downside, the calm wouldn't leave him. Chris could either just ride it until it wore off or he could spend the rest of the night racking his brains over this unusual and sudden lack of despair. He went for the first option. All things considered, who knows when he'd be allowed such a privilege again?
Chris snuggled up more into the bed, leisurely sprawled like those girls in Impressionist paintings but in steroids and testosterone.
After the afternoon hustle, the air inside Man's Cave had quieted. All the rockstars were back to their careless grins and cool poses. Chris's imagination had long stopped paying them any attention. The bedroom felt welcoming again. And protective. And it was just so pleasant to him to simply loaf by the bed. Chris could hardly remember the last time he'd had quite a moment like that, a time when he could simply be and act like the boy he was, paying no mind to the world's troubles. The hell he'd let this chance slip off his fingers!
Chris had just turned on the console lying on his chest of drawers to enjoy a short, idle, late-night gaming session when his phone beeped. Twice.
Claire: hey
Claire: meet me downstairs? Same place
Chris pressed his lips together and sucked them into his mouth in a thoughtful pout as his eyebrows quirked high in the forehead. Blame it on the calm, blame it on tiredness, Chris wasn't feeling like anything his sister was about to propose anyway.
Claire: I'm already here, bring a towel
The slim device in his hand suddenly became super-heavy.
The uncomfortable memories of the cottage bathtub deeds had their own slice of relevance in this. The mere idea of feeling exploited for the second night in a row made his stomach churn. It seemed like the prospect of forthcoming sex nauseated him.
Good Lord, he thought, when had he become like this? Normally, his sister wouldn't have to repeat herself. Heck! Normally, he'd be the one asking for pinning her down and bang the hell out of her! Yet, normality, their normality, couldn't be any less likely to happen: too many things had changed, he had changed. Why can't things stay the same?
That night, Chris simply didn't feel like it. And, for the life and masculinity of him, he couldn't help it.
Yet, he wouldn't leave his sister on read. He typed a few possible answers, other than a dry "no", but some would sound too pathetic, others too harsh, so he decided to actually tell her in person that he'd take part to no bathroom sex that night.
A gentlest knock on the door announced his arrival.
Chris made his way into the small basement bathroom slowly and silently. He closed the door and double-locked it. His sister was busy with pouring some kind of orangish salts into the bathtub that was quickly filling up with seemingly hot water. She stood with only her red bathrobe on and, as she turned to greet him, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.
"Where's your towel?"
The towel.
Yes.
Since he had no intention to get naked, Chris legitimately had brought none along and came empty-handed instead. Since the look on her face made it clear she hadn't got the gist of his attitude, Chris reckoned he'd better address the issue straight away and talk it out as soon as possible. The big boy scraped the short hair on his nape trying to rub some good ideas off of his scalp. Ultimately, he simply shook his head and sighed.
"I didn't bring it 'cause I'm not planning to use it," he said.
Claire was about to inquire further but realisation soon started dawning on her and her question died on her puckered lips.
Chris nibbled at his lower lip and explained with an apologising headshake, "I'm not really in the mood tonight."
With a sudden jump of her eyebrows, Claire stuttered, "oh, yeah, I mean… it's fine, Chris. I… I actually wasn't really planning on…" she pointed at the bathtub behind her with a thumb. Claire heavily sighed and murmured, "I just wanted to share a moment with you."
Chris massaged his neck and mumbled, "I don't know, it's kinda late…"
"Just cuddles, Chris," Claire exhorted, "it'll be nice, I promise."
Chris lowered his naked self into the hot water.
He shouldn't have said yes.
Regret firmly clung to the back of his mind, rising along with the water level as he immerged.
The water sloshed into the tub, tiny waves crashed against his abdomen. His ribs marked the waterline. The heat shift made goosebumps rise his body hairs anywhere the hot liquid couldn't touch. Using his hands as impromptu cups, Chris absently poured some water on the upper halves of his thighs and calves to wet his knees. He let the new scalding temperature embrace him fully and undo the tension in his muscles. The warmth was pleasant, he had to admit as he adjusted to fit better into the bathtub. And the bland vanilla scent wasn't bad at all too! There was a chance he might enjoy that unnecessary late bath.
But there also were so many other chances he'd despise it...
With the corner of his eye, Chris could see Claire standing by the sink, busying herself with tying her hair into a high knot. She still had the red bathrobe on.
Chris wasn't sure he wanted to have her take it off.
He tried and dared a glance at the possible next sequence of events: she'd step in, naked, she'd sit between his legs, lie against his stomach, caress him all over and, before long, she'd have him wrapped around her finger – and, vice versa, have her fingers wrapped around him. Therefore, he'd tumble down because he was unable to say no. Even if he didn't want it. Even if the idea of getting intimate repulsed him on some level.
Chris frowned in discomfort.
That was some crazy bullshit. He'd die to have her one more time. He'd die happy if he got to kiss her skin again. He just… not tonight. Not after last night. Not after the terrible feelings she'd made him suffer. He couldn't stand another time of being treated like a stupid inanimate toy with no feelings to respect. He wanted her, sure, but the price to pay for giving in was so damn high and-
"Are you alright?" Claire asked, softly, gently touching his shoulder to wake him from his woeful absence of mind.
Drawn back from his dystopic daydreams, Chris looked at her. She stood next to the bathtub, hunched over towards him, with a look of concern on her face and the knotted bathrobe belt in the hands.
"Yeah," Chris whispered, "yeah," he repeated to convince himself as well, "yeah, come on in."
Claire undid the knot that laced the bathrobe around her waist and let it swiftly slide off her body and fall onto the ground. One foot at a time, Claire stepped in, careful not to trip in his legs – or worse, step onto his body parts.
Chris kept his gaze low on the rippled water surface, but he could feel her nudity start to affect him already. Just not in the way it used to. Not in that magnetising way it'd always acted since... since the first time he'd showered in it weeks and weeks prior, back in September. He rather wanted to get out and leave. But he couldn't help helping her ease down instead, acting so unconsidered towards his own very feelings.
His vision was coming true already.
Claire sat between his legs, and used his stomach as a comfy backrest. Her neck naturally sat onto his shoulder as she reclined her head. Meanwhile, relaxed like drapes, his arms rested onto the tub's edges, making him truly resemble an exclusive human chaise longue. The siblings had used that same position a hundred times. It all came so natural, like a puzzle in which every piece falls into place on its own.
It was so good.
So good as long as it stayed like that. Neutral. Harmless. Almost brotherly, hadn't it been for the outrageous common nudity.
Chris cradled her head below his chin and brushed her temple with his cheek, his stubble gently rubbed her skin. If Claire lay peacefully against his hefty frame, a shadow of disquiet rather lay indented deep into Chris's gaze.
Wafts of steam rose from the tub and evanesced into the dense golden lighting of the small room. There wasn't a single sound in the air except for the sporadic tingling of water when one of them moved a leg or jerked a knee.
Chris felt Claire breathe and likewise did she. She felt his muscular chest rise and fall rhythmically during those long moments that passed before his thick arms would settle around her, looping and clutching right below her under-boobs.
"You good?" Claire murmured, noticing how narrower the tub resulted now that both lay inside, especially as she felt him squeeze his arms to fit into the space between her body and the ceramic sides, "want me to move?"
"No, I'm alright."
"Granny's bathtub's better," Claire purred and sighed out a mellow amused chuckle, "that one's fucking king size! This is a bit small for the two of us but it'll do."
Chris was going to agree with her until that last bunch of words made his own die in his very throat.
A sudden, harsh realisation happened: it was no more just "the two of us".
It was the three of them, sitting in a bathtub, in the middle of the night. A naked boy, his naked very sister and a growing bloody cluster of human cells inside a uterus.
It was so sick.
Chris felt a retch build in his churning stomach. His eyes screwed up as his brows knitted into a hard frown of seemingly pain. His hold around her chest tightened as he tried to fight back the soaring disgust.
"Ouch!" Claire wailed, lightly squirming in his hold, that immediately loosened as her complaint alarmed him. "My boobies!"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to," Chris apologised. He protectively palmed her breasts, crossing his wrists upon her sternum, and tilted his head aside to have a better look at her face and be sure she was fine.
"No biggie," Claire reassured, gliding her dainty hands over his, "just not squeeze 'em too much, please."
"Why? You used to like it," Chris asked, "does it hurt now?"
"Kind of," Claire said, swaying her head to gently bump it into his neck, "they feel different."
"Yeah, I see..." Chris agreed as he kneaded her breasts with gentle care, trying to assay what exactly had changed. "They seem kinda... uh, thicker?"
"I know right?" Claire chuckled, "I guess that's the one silver lining to this whole preggo situation. Bigger boobies!"
"Glad you see it this way," Chris mumbled. He himself struggled to see any bright side in this, in spite of how really thicker those tits he loved so much appeared to be. Had things been different, he'd surely not complain. His hands would've really enjoyed that new consistency. But things were different, so Chris just slid his hands off her breasts and returned to simply hug her bust from behind, right below the waterline that hardly covered her peeping nipples.
"You can keep touching though," Claire whispered and, tilting her head aside she placed a small peck under his jawline, "I still like it a lot," she purred, leaving more kisses on his stubbled skin, each one being longer and hotter than the precedent.
Chris froze under her touch. His vision only kept coming more and more true with every action of her. He stayed immobile under her, a mere human mattress, until Claire decided to turn a little in his embrace, as much as the bathtub allowed, in order to kiss him better and with deeper abandon. Then Chris slightly flinched back, not enough for his throat to be out of the reach of her lips yet enough for Claire to get the message.
Gulping down the bitterness, the girl saddened immediately and her face assumed a contrite and humiliated expression. Crestfallen, Claire murmured, "but you don't like it anymore, I see."
Chris's frown hardened. He couldn't stand to hear her speaking like that, at least half as much as he couldn't stand himself being so undersexed. "It's not what you think," he muttered.
"Then what is it?" Claire replied, quite resented being lied to like that. She sat upright, setting herself free of his hug and twisted her bust to watch him square in the face, "you don't like me kissing you, you don't want to have sex with me," she complained, as a whole new range of insecurities rose within herself, "if you don't like me anymore just say it!"
Chris grimaced in discomfort under her accusing scrutiny. "I still want you, don't get me wrong, Claire."
"Then you should show it," Claire retorted, hurtful, "'cause I can't see this want of yours by any stretch!"
Chris sighed aloud and ducked his head backwards in thoughtful resignation. He was just as confused as her. His brown eyes searched for answers on the whitish ceiling, while his mind searched in the depths of the soul and see where his heart stood. What a confused dumbass she'd made him!
"I want you," Chris said aloud, more to himself than to his sister, "I just don't want all the crap coming along with us being together."
Claire stayed quiet for a brief moment, mulling over those words, before snorting in a ridiculing manner. "What sort of crap could ever come?! I'm already pregnant! What other crap could possibly hap-"
"It's not just about that, it's never been just about that," Chris interrupted, feeling downright stupid at that admission of immaturity, "honestly, Claire, who did even think about that to happen?"
"So what's this fuss all about?"
"Oh, I guess you know it even better than I do!" Chris snorted and clenched his jaw as memories of the harshest break-up of his life crossed his mind. But it was no time for being grudgeful. He shook his head and, like the good older brother he was supposed to be, he explained why they couldn't just resume doing their "thing". "We already tried... uh, siblinghood with benefits and it didn't end well. Especially for me."
Claire couldn't hold back a snarky scoff. "Especially for you?! Uh, hello? I ended up pregnant!"
"I'm serious, babe," Chris muttered, not mirroring her same sarcastic amusement, "I was the one left with a broken heart."
Claire's little grin quickly faded from her face. Her blue eyes dropped along with the corners of her mouth. "You're right about that."
"Nice to hear that," Chris said, slightly glad to feel understood for once.
He saw Claire's brows furrow slightly, as in thought, as if she struggled to make something out of her own thoughts, and her eyes shuttle back and forth on the sparse hair on his chest before she spoke again. "This time it'll be different," she stated, looking at him with a mix of confidence and imploration, "this time we'll know it won't lead to anything other than sex."
Chris shook his head in disagreement but Claire intercepted his look and insisted before he'd answer any wise word on why that'd never fit him and his poor enamoured heart.
"It doesn't even have to be forever!" she enticed, "I haven't forgotten why I... I broke up with you in the closet... don't get me wrong."
One of Chris's brows jumped up at the unexpected revelation. It was the first time Claire addressed the savage closet thing as a proper break up. Somehow it felt strangely good to him to know she'd finally come to see themselves as having been a real couple sometime in the past. Better late than never, right? His hazelnut eyes looked at her, sparkling with a new glimmer of... hope? Gratitude? What?
"I still believe you deserve a real relationship, with someone you can... have," Claire continued, not missing to notice the little pretty effect her words had had on her brother. It pushed her to be even more forward in her request. "But as long as we'll be trapped in this preg shit, why don't we just... make the best out of it? I mean, you sure won't be dating anyone in the meantime, am I right?"
"Sure won't," Chris agreed.
"So, let's just love each other like we used to!" Claire exhorted, "it'll make us feel so much better. It'll our little silver lining. Why should we waste it?"
"I don't know, Claire..." Chris mumbled, he'd got the gist of what she suggested but it didn't convince him enough to just say a fuck-it-let's-do-it. "It's not like having an expiry date will..." help me fall out of love with you.
Claire gently slapped his pectoral and slyly smiled at him. "Oh, you make it sound so unromantic!" she giggled and eye-rolled, "let's just say we'll be a... temporary couple."
Chris now somewhat mirrored her amusement and feigned a mocking expression of shock. "Wow, 'cause that's so romantic instead! You couldn't word it any better!"
Chuckling and beaming, Claire leaned a bit onward and left a soft kiss on his lips. She cupped his cheek wetting it all and, rubbing the tip of her nose against his, she spoke softly against his mouth, "after all, at the end of this story, we'll both be broken hearted." She made a little pause as her brother's arms tightened their hold around her, lovingly. "So what's wrong if we take what we can as long as we can?"
Chris jerked his legs underwater and let her straddle him, like she desired, so that they faced each other. Claire shifted upwards until she could frame his head between her arms and her bosom. She gently caressed the sides of his face, on and on, keeping up an intense eye contact while he rubbed across her shoulders and the expanse of her back, making water tingle and more steam rise in the air. That was the second time they'd ended up in such a position in that very bathtub.
Claire brushed his lips with a fingertip and, heavy-lidded, she purred, "in for a dime, in for a dollar, remember?"
"Yeah," Chris purred back, hoarse and hot. Despite the overall hotness that surrounded him, both materially and metaphorically, and despite how it was affecting his manliest body parts, Chris hadn't let down his doubtful expression.
Claire ducked her head to kiss him on the lips but he ultimately turned his mouth slightly away from her trajectory. He looked back at her, with his nearly-unbearable penetrating gaze. When he spoke, he sounded serious and docile at the same time. "Promise me I won't be just your toy."
Claire's eyes widened and her mouth fell agape with incredulity, staring at him in speechless concern and disbelief. "Babe…?"
"I don't wanna feel like I'm your sex toy," Chris repeated, "I want you, damn, I love you, but I need-" he made a sudden pause as to try and collect himself, "if I have to show you how goddamn much I want you, baby, so I will. It's fine to me, you don't have to ask me twice to show you my want. But I need you to do the same and not make me feel like I'm just a dick you need to plough you and nothing more."
Claire's incredulity could only expand across her features after that. "Baby, I… when have I…" she sighed out, "when have I made you…?"
"You know when," Chris said and kept his gaze firmly locked into hers until he saw realisation dawn within her. There was no trace of accusation in his eyes, Chris was very calm and outspoken this time. "Even if we're gonna be just some temporary thing, I want it all. I want you all."
"But I am all yours, Chris!"
"I only ask for you to consider my feelings, honey," Chris whispered, drawing her closer into his embrace, "I'm in love with you, nothing has really changed in me. I still love you madly. So… just, please, just know what you're dealing with."
Claire eagerly nodded on his lips and drew him into a passionate kiss. She'd start proving him he was no toy to her straight away. Chris breathed in deeply as he sat upright, making sure to keep her tight against his torso. He was bulky, she was slim. He was below, she was on top. His hand reached the base of her nape and gently clutched around it while Claire slumped her arms around his one.
The kiss was long, warm, breathy and moany.
Authentic.
Claire slid an arm between their bodies and reached down, under water, and grabbed him. Chris groaned in their kiss as she started pumping him and huffing hotly to entice his arousal and harden his erection.
Claire had been wanting to try bathtub sex since the first time they'd shared a moment in it many, many days before, on the night the followed the demanding afternoon where they'd had to face their friends' discovery about their body switch. Things between them had changed since then, their "romance" had gone up and down to a stop, then, apparently, up again as tonight's events suggested. One thing had stayed constant: their debauchery.
"You still like me?" the girl asked in a brief moment that her lips weren't glued to his.
Chris groaned again and hummed affirmatively, drawing her breasts closer to his head. It felt good. It felt good again! It felt as it was.
Claire shifted on her knees and guided his tip against her entrance. "You want me?"
"Yes," Chris wheezed as she lowered herself onto him.
Her throaty moan made Chris wince under her and it drew him back from the mellow torpor that situation had pushed him into. His concerned look ripped a little grin out of her as she immediately understood what worried him.
"It's safe to do it, don't worry about that," Claire soothed, caressing him.
"How do you know?" Chris muttered.
"I did my research," Claire winked and smiled faintly, "it was the only good news I found today."
Chris wiped her grimace of sadness away with a swift kiss and chuckled, to ease both down, "damn, baby, how long have you been planning this bath?"
Claire let out a genuine little laugh and, resting her forehead against his, she started bobbing around him, quickly dragging themselves into their safe spot of wild sex. Chris gripped tight at her butt-cheeks and groaned as she moved upon him.
"You sure I'm not hurting you?" Chris whispered as his breath started coming out it ragged pants.
"I'm pregnant, not ill, baby."
Chris leaned backwards against the backrest and addressed her one of his trademark cocky smirks he knew she loved so much and always struck her, "can you please avoid that word while we're at it?"
Claire grinned and winked, "I thought you liked being called baby by me."
Chris snorted in sarcasm, "you know which word I mean," he groaned and soundly slapped her butt-cheeks below the waterline in retaliation, "now, rock it babe, you got me all worked up for a reason. Gotta ride me now."
"I fucking love it when you get an attitude," Claire hardly moaned and arched her back as he jerked inside her inners.
"And I fucking love you," Chris moaned and hunched onward to bite her neck and lick the hell out of her skin.
So it went, with a long sequence of dirty talk, the beginning of the craziest time of their lives. A time that'd make them forget about all the forbidden things they'd done so far and bring their depravation to a whole new level of recklessness. Something made of an endless concatenation of heartbreak and mending sex.
In case you missed it:
1) I have released an updated version of chapter 15 "My Baby". It's longer and (I humbly believe) better than it was. You can find it scrolling back to it since I replaced the older version with it. You'll hopefully find a little detail that connects it to this chapter up here.
2) I have also posted the reworked version of chapter 1 "Meet the Redfields" as a stand-alone one shot. Check it out if you like, you might see a glimpse of how OMIYS would look like if I were to write it now from scratch.
3) Behind the Scenes: Chronicles is getting more and more crazy with each update.