"There was no ego.
He loved her."
14th January 2023
First chapter of the year, let's be having it!
"It's something she's eaten, stop being so sympathetic, Chris."
"It isn't, she has a fever, she can't taste anything, she can't smell anything, it's not something she's eaten or food poisoning."
"I never said it was, she ate that box of cookies, that's why she's ill."
"I ate the cookies too, Claire, she didn't have them all to herself. I'm telling you, she's got the virus, we should test her then test ourselves, we know that it's in her school right now, Janine got a positive four days ago. I'm not feeling great either, I wouldn't be surprised if I test positive in a day or two."
"You're both fat bastards, that's all."
"Jesus, Claire, we share cookies, that's uncalled for! There's still a global pandemic, it hasn't gone away, it's not unusual if we do finally get infected! If anything it's unusual that we didn't get infected before now, we're lucky to be this deep in without catching it!"
"Fine, test then. But I'm telling you, you're both ill from the cookies."
"Sorry, Chloe, I didn't mean to be rough with the swab. Scoot back down under the blankets and I'll put a movie on for you."
"It's ok, Uncle Chris."
"Your mom thinks we're bad from those cookies."
"Janine is ill too but she didn't eat cookies."
"I know, Pebble, I know, let me check our tests."
"..."
"Chloe?"
"Yes, Uncle Chris?"
"Both mine and your tests have come up positive immediately. Yours is clear as day, but mine…I can see a positive line already, it's faint but it's there."
"Ok, Chris."
"We'll be fine, you hear me? I might even snuggle up with you if I start to feel worse, ahaha."
"Can you snuggle up with me anyway?"
"Sure, Pebble."
"Ow, Uncle Chris you sat on my hand."
"Sorry, you ok?"
"Yeah…"
"..."
"..."
"What's wrong, Chloe? You look sad."
"Why is Mom being mean?"
"I'm not sure. I think she's just stressed."
"Am I fat like she says?"
"Nooo, no Chloe, you're fine."
"I'm only nine, Uncle Chris…"
"I know you're only nine, but listen, she doesn't mean what she says."
"But why does she say things that hurt me if she doesn't mean it?"
"Oh God, I wish I could say. She's been through a lot, maybe it's taking its toll on her mind."
"But you've been through a lot too, Uncle Chris."
"I have, but I've been at my low point and come back."
"So it's Mom's turn to hit a low point?"
"Maybe. But we're here for her, you hear me?"
"Will you ever say mean things to me, Uncle Chris?"
"Of course not, Chloe. I have no bad words or thoughts for you."
"Really?"
"Nope. Nothing. I could scrape the inside of my skull with a spoon if you want me to, buuut I don't think I'll find anything."
"I prefer being with you than Mom."
"Is that because I don't say mean things?"
"Yeah. And sometimes Mom seems like she's going crazy and talking to herself and suddenly telling me to stay away and she will lock herself in the bathroom."
"She really does that?"
"Yeah."
"Hm. Ok. Thank you for letting me know, Chloe."
"Can I have a hug?"
"Anything for you. Come here, bring it in."
Chloe's eyes flickered open once again, and while she had considerably more brain functionality than earlier, her body was certainly feeling the grim effects of-
She lurched upwards, twisted to her side and vomited heavily. She hoped that it would be the only instance, but the feel of the Philly cheesesteak repeating on her tongue only added more to the beige, stench filled puddle of half digested meat, cheese and bread. She wretched loudly again at the lumpy sensation in her throat.
"Oh man…that was a nice cheesesteak too…" she uttered under her breath, and she shuffled away from the chunky mountain of regurgitation to avoid the smell. She looked around again; still a metal box with no windows, but the foam she felt underneath her body earlier was similar to a mattress. A loud noise roared outside…an engine of some sort? She licked her lips grimly and lifted her hands to brush hair out of the corner of her sticky mouth. Both hands because she was still tied up. A crackle sounded above her head, and she looked up to see an old, greying speaker cone.
"Oh deary me, love, sorry if you enjoyed your grub earlier." A tinny voice spoke, but she frowned at the sharp, dulcet tones. Why did she think she had heard that voice before?
"Where the fuck am I?" Chloe asked, but she coughed on a stray chunk of bread lodged in her throat.
"A fancy cargo plane, love, we're going to see me boss, innit. By the way, you puked coz I slapped your face with that liquid cloth earlier. It's a normal reaction."
Chloe furrowed her brow. Liquid cloth?
"You mean when you fucking chloroformed me back home?" Chloe snarled, but the voice chuckled.
"Nah, love, chloroform don't work that rapid, it ain't like them Hollywood films you see. It was a cocktail of other shit, just a little sample from my boss, innit."
"Fuck you." she spat.
"I'm not fucking anyone anymore, I'm not a nonce, love, don't worry, I won't lay a finger on ya."
"Oh but you fucking headlocked me and tranquilised me?!"
"Yeah well…" the voice trailed off, and Chloe sighed roughly. She glanced her blue eyes around idly, and she noticed that her head was gently wobbling against the metal wall. A train? No, a train doesn't make this noise. Can't be a truck either, she couldn't hear tyres beneath her.
"What is this vehicle?" Chloe questioned. She waited, and waited, but no answer was returned. She bolted to the side as she heard a twisting metal noise, and a tall, thin man stepped in through a door that she hadn't noticed, holding a thin container of some sort. He looked out of the door and nodded, and it closed behind him.
"We're on a plane, love, I already told yas. We're going to good old England."
He did say a plane earlier. Cargo plane. She had already forgotten that detail. Dammit.
"Well, aren't you a fucking great villain, spoiling the plot." Chloe remarked sarcastically, attempting to glean over her immediate forgetfulness. The man approached her, and her mouth fell open at the sight of his face. "You're that British guy from the beach in Florida!"
"Aye, love, that I am! Can you believe it?! I only found out a bit after that I was gonna be after you or ya mam!"
"Holy shit dude you really are the worst villain. Even got the fake British accent to go with it!" Chloe smirked and squinted at him, but he laughed at her comment.
"Nah, love, I'm a thorough Brit, me. I ain't faking this sexy voice."
"Your voice is far from sexy, you're just irritating. You're no Tom Hiddleston."
He laughed again and placed the container down on the floor before pulling a small switchblade from his pocket. Chloe's eyes went wide and she tried to shuffle backwards, but he cleanly sliced at her. She opened her eyes in confusion at the lack of pain. Was it so sharp that her reaction was delayed? Like not knowing a papercut is there until you see it?
"Fuck me, love, keep still, don't wanna cut ya, just trying to cut your bonds, innit?!"
Chloe looked down at her ankles and saw that she had full movement again. She eyed the man cautiously before hesitantly holding her wrists out to him, which he also cut free from the bindings.
"I ain't here to hurt ya, love, just escort ya. Name's Dave by the way." He offered a slender hand to her, and she stared at his long fingers.
"Hmph!" She kicked at his hand and he reeled slightly, sucking air through his teeth.
"Ah, you bugger! Aight love, calm down. Here." He slid the container to her and took the lid off. Inside it was several compartments, each with differing selections of steaming hot food; some boiled potatoes, meat in a brown sauce, probably ground beef and gravy, some barely cooked broccoli and carrots and a sachet of ketchup. It reminded her of the bland, tasteless food that she ate in hospital after she broke her arm years ago; she had to wait two days before she received surgery. She wrinkled her nose at it as he pulled out a little bottle of water from his other pocket, and he placed it to the side of the food.
"I'm not hungry. Or thirsty." Chloe grumbled, and Dave shrugged before turning away.
"Suit yourself, love." He quipped, and he pulled a plastic bag out of yet another pocket in his black jacket, turned it inside out over his hand, and proceeded to scoop up Chloe's pile of vomit with it. She watched him walk to the door and he nodded at the tray of food, but she grunted at him again and swivelled on her butt to face away from him. In doing so she felt something hard inside her denim jacket's pocket, and she touched it with her fingers.
Her phone!
She slowly pulled it out of her pocket and, ew, no signal? Oh but her phone is connected to some kind of Wi-Fi?! The plane has Wi-Fi? She always did leave it on auto connect, even if by accident. Maybe she could try…
She began scrolling for Chris' name, her mom's name, hell, she opened up the Redfield group chat! She began tapping her thumbs rapidly against the screen;
Help! Kidnapped! On plane to E
A hand appeared in front of her and she gripped her phone hard, pressing her palms into the screen. She tried to wrestle it back, but Dave was stronger, and next thing she knew her phone was handed back to her, screen off.
"No phones on planes, love." Dave laughed, and she twisted to face him with a furious, sulky pout. He was holding some kind of black device in his hand. She tapped at her screen, tried the power button, nothing, the screen remained blank and devoid of apps or digital clocks or her family photo wallpaper.
"What the hell did you do?!" Chloe yelled, and he laughed again.
"This gizmo here, it immediately drains battery life. You ain't gonna charge it unless someone gives you the correct charger, love."
"Oh, go get fucked by a badger, you limey fuck!" Chloe seethed, and she spat in his direction, but he simply wiggled a finger at her. Her own behaviour took her by surprise; she was certainly not one to spit at anyone, and she began to feel ashamed. No, fuck, why should she feel like that? This bastard plucked her from her own balcony!
"Hey hey, no room for that kind of insulting language, love! Fuck me you really are like your mam! You even fight like her, too! You got yer mam's fiery spirit!"
"Go choke on a crumpet or something, drown in fucking posh tea, just leave me alone!" Chloe shouted. No no, calm down, she thought. She felt more wet ripples under her skin, and she slowly inhaled. Keep it back. Calm down. She heard the door close behind her, and once again she was alone in this metal prison. She threw herself against a wall and bit her lip, keeping tears in check. She flexed her fingers wildly, wiggled her toes manically inside her Doc Martens, she bounced her legs restlessly.
"Why am I being taken to England?" She whispered to herself. "And why was it me or Mom? Why? What is it about us?"
She sniffed hard but still battled back the tears in her eyes and the sharp lump jabbing at her throat. She wanted Chris. She wanted him badly, she wanted him to do his thing where he just rocks up with his squad and saves the day. She pulled her knees to her chest and touched the necklace around her-
She gasped as she frantically patted at her bare flesh on her neck.
"No…no no where is it?!" She hissed to herself. Her heart and lungs clamped up in her chest, and she drew herself in tighter. Where was it?! Uncle Chris had it made for her when she was a baby, and she had worn it constantly for two years. There wasn't another like it!
She controlled her breathing again as her fingertips tingled and stung. Naked, she felt so goddamn naked without it. She had hated wearing it for so long, she thought it was an ego thing on Chris' part, maybe to make himself feel good, to make him feel that he was having an impact on her life. She wore it to please him, even though she hated it. She thought it was easier that way, to prevent conflict and arguments. She hated wearing it but she could never bring herself to take it off; every time she touched the lobster clasp she would stop herself. Corny, she thought it was. Not just the 'pleasing Chris' part, but the actual inability to remove it from around her neck.
How wrong her thoughts were.
He wasn't being big headed or anything. He genuinely cared about her, and for the last few years she had done nothing but tear into him about everything he said and did. Was it really because herself and her mother were all he had in his life? He had eventually told her in private, only last week, that he had never dated anyone, not in twenty or so years. Did he really hold his niece and sister that highly in regard? So much so that he had sacrificed a potential love life and family for the two Redfield females?
Was she fooling herself?
"Yes, Chloe, you are." She breathed.
He had shown so much care and affection to her and she was too fucking edgy and nasty to see it.
There was no ego.
He loved her.
It was only now and in the last month of them attempting to repair their fractured relationship that she was realising this. And what did he mean 'the sacrifices he's making to keep Claire happy?' What sacrifices?
She looked at the black screen of her phone again. Staring back at her was the fiery haired, sharp faced girl who had spent years hating her uncle. She could see her mom's features on a normal day, but today she could see a young, feminine version of her uncle staring sadly back at her. She shoved her phone angrily into her pocket, and wished that she had tried to type out and send that message before Dave took that privilege from her.
"Please, Uncle Chris…work your magic…I'm sorry for everything, Uncle 'ris." she murmured to herself.
It wasn't her mother that she wanted.
She wanted Chris.
Chris paced around the small room lined with PCs, equipment, monitors and electronic charts. It was dated equipment, but still totally usable for the purpose that himself and his squad needed. The walls were painted battleship grey, and the carpet perhaps was black, once upon a time, but now it was faded. It must've been heavily used in the early days of Rebecca's facility, but maybe was now used more for old equipment storage after the facility began to come to life. Maybe Rebecca initially had some cheap carpet tiles installed. He sat down in a worn desk chair and sipped at the coffee from the vending machine in the corridor, and he grimaced at the sour taste and gritty texture.
"Yeah I think I'll pass." He grumbled. He wheeled over to one of the PCs and began setting up. He peered at the coffee in disdain and held it up again, seriously considering another sip despite the grim taste, and his phone beeped. Idly scooping it out of his pocket he saw that it was from the Redfield group chat. Claire probably. She was probably mad at him for not accompanying her for those tests that Rebecca has suggested.
Wait…
Chloe?!
He slammed the plastic cup down, sloshing hot beige liquid over the sides, and held his phone close to his face.
"On plane to E. E and what's with the symbols?" Chris spoke to himself frowning at "!_$JJ d(f" that followed the E, and the door opened behind him.
"Chris." Said Rebeccas's voice. "Claire had another of her moments, we had to restrain her, I'm so sorry. But we managed to take blood and other samples in between her episodes. Sorry, but we had to sedate her in the end. For her own safety, and ours."
Rebecca's words didn't surprise him in the slightest, but he couldn't help feeling a little guilty at his old friend having to get heavy handed with his sister. He felt even more guilt for Claire having to endure being restrained and sedated, but it really was for the best. He twisted his lips. He despised the thought of Claire being put out of the way like that, but it was the best way.
Chris held his phone up, but spoke before Rebecca could read it.
"Chloe is on a plane, as we thought." Chris explained." She says she is on the way to E."
"E? Well, it was Dave that took her, but is E for England too obvious?"
"Probably, unless she's trying to be specific, she normally would call it the UK."
"But if it's England then it narrows the UK down a little."
"But if it ISN'T England, then where? We know she's heading West, so England or Europe won't make sense, surely?"
"Unless they know that we'd try to track her, and they're throwing us off."
"It could simply be a city to the West of the USA that begins with E, there are no States that start with it."
The door opened again, and in stepped-
"Wow, Jill." Chris breathed.
"Hi, Chris." Jill Valentine smiled sweetly at him.
He took in her figure; she was still as slender as she was years ago, and she hadn't aged all that much in comparison to the rest of the former S.T.A.R.S members. Her hair's natural brown pigment had slowly restored itself over time, and now she was back to her old shoulder length cut from back in the day.
"You look well, Jill." Chris nodded, and she giggled sheepishly at him.
"I could say the same for you, Mr Redfield." Jill waved a hand lightly at him. "I wish I was here for pleasantries, but I just wanted to say that I'm more than happy to take on Claire as a patient if her mental instability is caused by a virus of some sort."
"Oh, that's right." Chris squinted his eyes as he chased a small memory. "You give therapy to people that have been infected and treated now?"
"Yup." Jill confirmed smartly. "After everything I went through when Wesker controlled me, I wanted to help others also suffering with the aftermath of it all."
"You never did fill me in on what you do nowadays." Chris glared at her with a grin, "after this is all over we all need to catch up."
"Whenever over will fucking be, brothersaurus!" said a loud voice through the open door, and Moira Burton strolled in, clutching sheets of paper in her hand. "Sorry for screwing up your reunion, guys, really."
The other adults simply nodded and dismissed her apology. Jill was right. Pleasantries wasn't why they were here.
"Rebecca." Moira began, turning to her, "Claire's results came through as soon as we delivered the samples to the system!"
"And?" Rebecca asked. Moira looked at Chris, then back to Rebecca.
"Mold. 100%. Claire is infected with the Mold."
Chris slowly leant back in his chair. He should be shocked, but he was more confused than anything else.
"That makes no sense. She was never in contact with it. I've certainly never brought it back from Europe or Louisiana, and I was assured that it couldn't have been passed by Mia or Rose."
"We know that it's the Mold now, at least. That's what is causing her to behave like she does, no doubt about it." Moira explained. "You say she has hallucinations, right?"
"Well, she says she sees our parents' ghosts and-" Chris swallowed and licked his lips, fixating his eyes on Rebecca, "and her two babies that she lost late on. Minnie and Corey."
"Maybe she isn't seeing ghosts at all." suggested Rebecca. "I can get more tests done to establish exactly what kind of Mold that we're dealing with, but it sounds like another case I once heard about."
"Explain?" Chris scratched his hairline and watched Rebecca intently. In turn, she leant back against a desk and sighed.
"Well, this one other case was ever so slightly different, not totally different from the Bakers', or Mia's, but it did seem to correlate with seeing what were assumed to be spirits of specific deceased people. Namely people that the infected person felt guilty towards. Like there was something caught up in the megamycete, and a heavily but sometimes unintended guilty conscience is a type of food for this type of Mold."
"Ok?"
"Chris, I know you said before that she felt guilty for Minnie's death, but what about Corey's? And has she ever, for whatever the reason may be, felt guilty about your parents' deaths?"
"Yeah," Chris sighed, and he pressed his thumb pads together awkwardly, like he was a little boy being pressed for answers by two adults, "she feels guilty for the babies' deaths for different reasons, I think. I'm not sure if she does feel guillty about our parents, though. If she does, then she's hidden that one from me for decades."
Chris rubbed the stubble on his chin in deep thought. He glanced at Moira and Jill, and then at Rebecca.
"Can I speak to you alone?"
Moira and Jill said nothing, but simply smiled and excused themselves. When the door closed behind them, Rebecca pulled a seat over and sat next to him.
"It's…it's about my parents. A few weeks ago, I received an email. It won't solve much about Chloe's kidnap, but I think I need to share this information with you. For Claire's sake, maybe."
The song for this chapter is The Heart from Your Hate by Trivium
Literally a last minute choice because I forgot that I was meant to get a song for the chapter.
Can I point out how much it hurts my British arse to write Mould as Mold? XD
So I noted on IG that I made a tiny error but turned out to be significant. This error was writing West instead of East in previous chapters. Slight spoiler there, but I had to make it look deliberate now XD