Author's Note: Alrighty, sorry for the late update. I'm really happy with the feedback I'm getting, so thanks to all of you guys for leaving it. Here the truth is revealed about that mysterious woman in the previous chapter and her intentions. The gang is up for a few bumps in the ride, but nothing too serious. There will be an interlude as the next chapter whilst I keep writing the story; thanks to exams, the updates have caught up to my writing. Don't worry, this will still keep going during Christmas break.
Disclaimer: The usual. I do own my OCs.
VII
First Steps
Silent Noise
"Just what the hell is going on?"
One minute, they were flying to Venice with no interruption or turbulence whatsoever; the other, they were being held at gunpoint by the 'pilot' and the 'assistant', both of them packing the punch of a .45 caliber firearm. Jill and the others were also armed, each one with their weapon of choice, and also had them trained on the other people. Jill felt a pang of trepidation when the pilot's gaze fell upon her, an intent look of icy impassiveness through narrowed eyes. It was no match against those Wesker had shot her countless times, but it still unsettled her.
"There's been a slight change of plans. Birkin knows about it, be advised," said the pilot, a heavy Japanese accent in her words. "We are heading over to Zurich now."
Zurich? What the hell would we do there?
"A 'slight' change," Claire began, stepping out to the aisle and steadying her aim, "they didn't tell us about."
Jill could clearly see the result of the training she had received over the years: her hands were still, her stance firm and her Glock aimed at the pilot's head. It was impossible to know which course of action hers would be, but it was obvious that she wouldn't hesitate to shoot if things got complicated. By her side, Wesker had the safety off and was ready to shoot; he'd been since the very beginning.
Jill gathered her wits, tightened her grip on her standard Beretta. "Let me guess, Tricell?"
The Japanese woman laughed, the sound chipper in spite of the circumstances. "Tricell? We wouldn't stoop that low, no."
"We're with someone else, Ceannaire, and she's willing to exchange information with you." The man was the only one whose identity could be known thanks to the clearance card sticking out of his pocket. Jill could make out his name was Ulrich.
"What kind of information?" came Leon's question, his finger making an unsettling move towards the safety of his gun. "How could you help us?"
"Ceannaire could," replied Ulrich, shooting a hard glance at Leon, who didn't flinch. "If you're willing to make a detour, that is. Just so you know, Shizuko and I aren't people you should consider enemies, and not our employers either. We're biased most of the time, but we're on your side this once."
"And who is this 'leader' you talk about?" asked Rebecca from beside Claire. "What do they want from us?"
"Information," replied Shizuko, apparently easing her grip on her Desert Eagle. "But it won't go unpaid: Ceannaire has more for you, especially for the two ghosts in here."
Jill felt as though Shizuko's black eyes were boring a hole into her skull and seeing right into her mind, even past her as if she were a transparent shell revealing the turmoil inside her. Whatever information they had, it did seem to be important. But who was this Ceannaire, this 'leader' as Rebecca had said?
A mystery after the other.
She stole a quick glance at Wesker, whom she expected would make the decision in everyone's behalf. She didn't doubt her skill to negotiate, but the ground they were treading was deceiving: one false move and it would all go to waste. Silence fell like a heavy rock amongst them, leaving Jill to deal with Ulrich's furtive glances. Just by that, she could tell there was more to the situation than met the eye: they wanted her for some reason. What information that she held was supposed to prove valuable for this group?
"Then perhaps if this leader is willing to reach an agreement, we will oblige," Wesker said at last. Jill suddenly realized he had remained in the same position: nothing that had happened had disturbed him… as usual. In the end, Jill holstered her Beretta, an action that earned her a questioning look of anxiety from Claire.
"He or she should unless they want the ghosts to disappear again," she said, frowning at Ulrich and Shizuko in order to harden her features. Shizuko lowered her Desert Eagle, turned and disappeared behind the blue curtain that led to the cockpit. Ulrich remained in his place for another moment, his gaze fixed upon Jill, and then imitated Shizuko. It was then and only then that the tension seemed to subside.
"So we're mere specters now, huh?" she half-uttered to herself, her voice thin.
"You should get used to it," Wesker told her. Jill looked at him, wasn't surprised at the smirk on his features. "But I believe anonymity is something you've been seeking for some time, yes?"
"I suppose so," she replied, sitting down again. "But what information would they want from us? I don't understand; it's a mystery after another."
Wesker chuckled, settling back in his seat. "That's something you should have become used to by now, I think."
"So ghosts, right?" came Claire's question. It wasn't mocking; merely curious and perhaps with a tinge of concern. "You're still not in the grid, Jill?"
"I should be," she said, folding her arms across her chest. She should be indeed, since Chris had done the impossible to get her back in action and ready to start a normal life. The world had turned a literally blind eye to her profile, like she was never there. It had taken its time, but Jill Valentine was a name that was once more remembered after such efforts.
Then, it all made sense.
"Good God…" she whispered, taking a hand to her mouth in shock. She snapped her head at Wesker, who cocked an eyebrow at her reaction. "Tell me, or just anybody who can remember," She decided to throw the question at everyone, "Did the news of my death make it out to the world? Was it made public?"
"It didn't." It was Leon who replied. Jill turned to face him. "So I was told, they just let all of us and the government in on the news. I could be wrong, but not all of the matters related to the BSAA saw the public light… did they?"
How do you explain that Shizuko knew you were a ghost, like she said? Came Jill's subconscious' question. It was more that logical when it concerned Wesker, since he was more of a public affair than she had been, but if the news had been classified information to whom few people were privy… then it would be impossible for any other group to know unless the sources had been good.
"What's roaming your mind?" Wesker asked her, but she didn't listen. The pieces were fitting together, completing a part of the puzzle. She made a list of everything: the BSAA had dissolved a week after the failed mission, the information had been classified, the news of her death hadn't been made public, an apparent sworn vendetta against Tricell… For some reason she couldn't figure out, with the feeling that the piecing of the information didn't make any sense, she reached an illogical but also plausible conclusion.
The BSAA was back in action.
Jill voiced out her thoughts in a whisper everybody paid attention to. She made her point clear, also introducing the excuse of having a mere hunch, but initially everyone believed her.
"That would explain a lot of things," said Claire, "especially the whole 'don't consider us enemies' thing. But if they were back, why wouldn't they make themselves known?"
"Operating behind the shadows, perhaps?" Rebecca reasoned with a light shrug. "It would make everything a bit –if not a lot more obvious. Maybe it's true."
Leon chuckled, drawing their attention to himself. "I'll be damned if that 'information' they told us about involves Tricell in some way, which would consequently mean that it involves Marco-"
"-and Chris…" Claire whispered as he said it. Jill noticed she had paled a bit, struck by the revelation. "Then I guess we've got to go through this. I'd prep a plane if Chris had taught me how to pilot some kind of aircraft, but he skipped that part of the training."
Jill smiled. "I think he did well, because if you pilot the same way you ride…"
Claire frowned, stiffening. "Just because I like to ride fast doesn't mean I do everything the same way, excuse me!" But then, she laughed. "Okay, fine, let's just forget about it. But… how did you reach that conclusion?"
Jill lowered her gaze, blinking a few times. "I don't really know. It's kinda come because of my instincts: they kicked in, that's it. And I think I don't even have enough proof to… get this conclusion out, but I feel that's exactly what's going on."
"It is plausible –they seem to be well informed," Wesker said with certain sarcasm.
"We could leave you aside; you're the obvious case here," Claire snapped at him, her frown deepening further.
Jill never thought Wesker would laugh at such a remark, no matter if the laugh had been brief.
"Isn't Jill another example of the obviousness?" he inquired. "Fine, I'll let you leave me aside, but may I remind you the whole world still thinks I'm quite gone? They must've gotten their hands on good sources to have found this out."
"He's right," Leon agreed, nodding at Claire. "Even I wouldn't have known if I hadn't been told about it." He scoffed. "A bit ironic, isn't it?"
"I'll give you that, alright," she acknowledged in the end. Then, a small bump in the ride. "And… it looks like we're about to land. Leon, did I really sleep that much?" Leon nodded his answer, which put a smile on Jill's lips.
"Don't let that abash you," Wesker remarked with a smirk. Nobody except Leon heard Claire's insult.
–
Allen was waiting at the heliport, taking comfort in the small amount of heat the sun provided through the clouds. It had dawned unusually windy and cold that day, but Allen was already used to cold winters. After his parents died, he moved to Oslo with his uncle, with whom he spent most of his early life, before moving to Moscow to find a suitable job. An American hadn't been a common sight in those cities back in those times, so life proved to be a little more difficult for him. In the end, he settled as an economic and computer analyst, but the latter had been regarded as a hobby. He would always remember the date when he had met Amanda: March 14th, 1997. It was what set off the countdown until his next moving: Allen, a year later, would move in with Amanda and settle down in Zurich, where they had been living until the present day.
Allen thought about that day with a wistful smile, allowing his mind to wander off for a few moments. But then, the familiar sound of an approaching aircraft drowned out his thoughts, the silhouette of a helicopter coming into view. He readied himself for the wind that would hit him in mere moments, a strong wind that would remind him of the days in the middle of icy plains in Norway. It came in less than he had expected, the waves of wind so strong that the door opened and slammed closed. Allen didn't close his eyes neither did he completely shield them from view; he just tilted his head downwards, his gaze still fixed upon the descending transport. He saw there were five passengers: most likely those who Amanda wanted to see. When the helicopter touched down, the five passengers jumped off one by one.
The only one Allen recognized was the brunette: it was Jill Valentine, the key to Amanda's puzzle. It was as if she was clad in a cloak of apprehension: it was obvious in her eyes. At the same time, her gait was determined and demeanor was more than convincing. Behind Valentine was a red-haired woman, also young –perhaps the same age as Valentine- and with eyes that told him she was Valentine's complete opposite. Her bright blue eyes were narrowed and not just because of the wind. The others were another woman, this one considerably shorter than the others, and a young male with serious eyes.
Amanda couldn't have picked a better-
His sarcastic remark was muted by the sound of his own gasp, though Allen tried to remain as collected as possible. The last passenger that jumped off the helicopter was none other than Albert Wesker, of whom Allen had had the misfortune of hearing. He seemed to be just like Allen had been told: his demeanor did nothing to prove Allen's suspicions wrong. He watched Shizuko exit the cockpit and trot towards him, her long blueberry dyed hair ruffled by the wind, and Allen understood with the very slight nod she sent in his direction.
Allen looked up at Jill, who was the first one to reach him.
"Looks like they did keep you short on details," he remarked, cracking a brief smirk. "Come on, I'll take you downstairs; you've got to catch up on some things." He turned his wheelchair around and proceeded inside the building, making sure the group was following him. As they went down the stairs on foot, Allen went down mounted on a small automatic platform installed on a side of the staircases. It was normal routine to use it, so it didn't take him long to reach the lower floor: he didn't like to keep people waiting, be it strangers or not.
As they went past the elevators, one of them opened and Mark, a close friend of his, stepped out with a bit of a curious expression. "Look what the cat dragged in."
Allen flinched before frowning. "Keep a lid on it, Mark. Anyway, do you know where Amanda is?"
"The usual place, where else?" Mark replied with a shrug of his shoulders. Allen sighed and headed towards the Main Ops room, where Amanda was likely to be found at every hour except at night, where she would either be at her office or at their apartment. After a while, Jill asked,
"So is this Amanda who keeps herself behind a codename?"
Allen couldn't help a smile, a smile Jill didn't see. "Yeah, most of us do. Before you poke any further, you'll learn the reason why from Amanda herself." He took a left turn. "By the way, my name's Allen Keyes… and yes, puns are allowed for those who cannot help themselves."
"You picked us up with a bit of a short notice, didn't you? Why?" Allen assumed it was the red-haired who had asked the question.
She's got spark.
"About that, I believe I should apologize in behalf of… well, perhaps Amanda," he began, "but we were also short of time. She will explain herself, let's hope."
"And if she doesn't?" came Wesker's question.
"Then I'll make her," Allen replied right off the bat. He wouldn't hesitate, not in front of him. "She owes me that much."
And then they were inside the Main Ops room. It was large and spacious, with a ceiling many feet above their heads. Several monitors were posted up on the far wall, revealing all the information they needed at a time like the actual one. A few people paced to and fro, some of them delivering folders of documents to the workers stationed at the computer tables, but the usual high-spirited ambient was yet to disappear. Allen knew everyone was a hard worker, striving to do their best, and he smiled at the feeling. He had spent so much time and effort working in that room that it already seemed like home.
And amidst the people stood Amanda Graves, who had turned around the same moment they stepped through the door.
This isn't gonna be good.
–
There was no silence to feel uncomfortable with, only people. Many of them were staring with mixed emotions. It was more than clear that the predominant emotion was distrust, followed by perhaps intimidation, shock and disbelief. Now that Jill thought about it, there were indeed two ghosts standing in front of a crowded room: there was no place for doubt. She glanced at Allen, who didn't seem to notice her, and then he said,
"Well, here you have them. I just hope you're not planning to take the whole day with this."
The woman in the center of the room smirked, the gesture overconfident. Jill had the feeling she was familiar, that she had seen her somewhere before… but where? "It won't take long, that's for sure." She turned to fully face them, her stance firm and chin high. "So, the ghosts finally make their appearance."
"Unfortunately, we lack a third," Wesker intervened with his usual coldness as the woman's smile widened. It was unnerving, and it was because of that gesture that Jill finally figured out who she was. She had seen that smile before. She frowned, making sure, but that mere change in her expression was enough for the woman to tilt her head upwards, as if looking down on her.
"Yeah. You know me, I know you: we're even. Pity you didn't recognize me before."
"Jill, what's going on? Who is she?"·came Claire's hushed question from behind her. Jill managed to say it.
"You're Leah... you're Oliver's sister."
It had come in just a moment. Jill had seen Leah before, at a press conference Oliver had once given. She was of Jill's same height and build, with jet-black hair cut in a boyish fashion and amber eyes that could kill if given the chance and enough time. Oliver had told Jill he and Leah weren't related by blood but by the re-marriage of his father and her mother, hence the differences between them. Whilst Oliver was known for his down-to-earth personality, Leah was known for her bite.
"That's right, you still remember. Amanda Leah Graves at your ser- oh, well, perhaps just my service," she said, sardonic. "I don't tend to work for others, just so you know."
"A smart move." Wesker's 'compliment' made Amanda grow stiff, her brows knitting together. He very nonchalantly took a few steps forward and though relaxed, Jill could see he was taunting Amanda with just his stance, whether he was aware of it or not. "Since you play for keeps, allow us to do the same: I'll start asking you how is it that you knew she and I were the ghosts your Japanese colleague talked about."
When Amanda spoke, all sarcasm was gone and had been replaced by mild defiance, "Do I need to mention the obviousness of your case?"
"I've heard that one often," Wesker interjected with amusement. Jill had remained in her place and was listening with attention.
"It won't be the last time you do," Amanda snapped. "The only reason I know of Jill Valentine is because Oliver told me about her. He was the one who told me the news of her death because yes, they hadn't been leaked to the public. After the BSAA was dismantled, most of those responsible for the cowardly action of betraying them went AWOL: some of them, we've taken care of. It was the eve of my acceptance into the BSAA, so I had been given clearance by Oliver beforehand… which is why I have accessed all classified files and all that stuff."
"So it looks like you know of the mission that went wrong," Jill intervened, shifting her stance. Amanda nodded.
"And in full detail," she said. "You've got quite the resumé yourself," she added with a wide humorless smile.
"Looks like this is the BSAA again," Claire interjected for the first time since their arrival. At this, Amanda grimaced and wrinkled her nose.
"We, the BSAA?" she scoffed, then laughed out loud. "Let me tell you you're mistaken: we may be fighting against Tricell and everything that involves Umbrella research like the BSAA did, but we're different. We're clandestine; we're better, stronger. We're not corrupt like the BSAA was, because it was corrupt. Those bastards wouldn't have turned their backs on us, on all of you, if they'd shown some courage and backbone. We picked up from where they left off and I promise you we're doing one hell of a job at it."
"Then I suppose you've been tracking us down since the very start?" Wesker asked, but didn't wait for an answer. He shook his head. "Too conspicuous."
Jill was taken aback: Wesker, bluffing? Or had he hidden something from them?
"Conspicuous or not," Amanda said, smiling, "we did our job and we did it nicely. I would've thought you, out of all people, would know how to recognize a nicely pulled-off plan."
"And you're not mistaken," Wesker agreed, his tone once more amused, "but I also know when that plan's destiny is utter failure."
"Like your last one was?" Amanda's voice was steely, dripping with sarcasm and mockery. Jill wasn't surprised when Wesker didn't hesitate for a single moment: he was more than ready to deal with people like her.
"A mere bump in the road to victory," he replied with a dip of his head. "They usually happen."
Jill sensed Claire growing tense beside her: he had spoken with the carelessness and the coldness of the Wesker they had known for so long. Amanda's smile suddenly vanished, her eyes narrowing to slits.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't put a bullet through your head," she growled, "and make it a good one."
Jill watched Claire step forward; she couldn't stop her from saying, "Because we haven't kept our part of the deal." Wesker turned around to face Claire, the hidden harshness of the movement telling Jill he hadn't expected that. "We all have information you want. If you make a threat, it's because you can pull it off and not just scare your enemy. If you put a finger on him, you're not getting what you want. And I, like my brother, keep my promises."
A pause.
Jill was taken aback. Claire was known for being gutsy whenever the situation required it, but to face up to someone who had a bite like Amanda's wasn't easy. Amanda, as Jill had already figured out, had a wicked tongue and a quick wit to conjure up the harshest of comebacks, but not even that impeded Claire from making her position clear. Her features had hardened, an unseen glint of rage in her eyes.
Amanda sighed and crossed her arms, a gesture that pointed to her attempt to not snap back at Claire. "You've got guts, but they're not enough. I can't believe you've turned your back to brother."
"Do I have to repeat myself?" Claire repeated, raising her voice. Amanda clenched her fists, a deep scowl on her face.
"I want to know where he is." Her voice suddenly quivered for a brief moment. "Where's Chris Redfield?"
Quick as mercury, Leon made himself known. "Where we were heading. If you'd asked before and with other methods, perhaps we would've told you."
"Where is he?"
"And what do we get from telling you?" Claire piped up. "Heh, you're going to kill him, aren't you?"
Jill gasped and corkscrewed around to face Claire, whose attention was on Amanda. Amanda released a laugh. "A smart cookie, after all! He's a threat, that's what he is, and he's infected, he's a host… he's a traitor. Do you want any other reason? The list is endless!"
"He's my brother, for crying out loud!" Claire exclaimed, blanching. Jill's gut knotted up: the situation would soon get out of hand. "We're doing all we can to get him back! Y-you didn't have to stick your nose in our business! We didn't ask for it!"
"Claire-" Leon laid a hand on her shoulder, but she slapped it away.
"Are you really that anxious to kill him?" she continued, drowning out Leon's warning. "You should know what it means to lose family!"
"I do, yes," Amanda replied with all normalcy as the busy ambient of the room subsided and welcomed silence. "What's your point?"
"You know he's my brother; what are you trying to achieve by killing Chris?" Claire scoffed, a gesture to which Amanda visibly stiffened. "You can't stand the pain of your loss and so you've got to bring me down to your level. That you've lost Oliver doesn't mean I have to lose Chris just so that you get some goddamned peace of mind!"
There was absolute silence.
Jill was simply awestruck at Claire's words, the scowl on her features revealing how much she was hurting inside. Her pain, as Jill suddenly discovered, was contagious: she was so right that it hurt. Jill turned back to look at Amanda, who had also gone white and was staring at Claire with wide eyes. But then, that expression of shock and mild anger morphed into one of disbelief and cockiness. Amanda laughed once more, and Claire's shoulders slumped in defeat.
"You may be right," Amanda said, rubbing her neck. "You never know, really. But I've got nothing to lose, Claire, so I have the liberty of placing my sense of duty above family. Unlike you, I've already gotten over the loss of my brother; you've lost yours but you still can't accept it."
"To judge, you must be a witness," Wesker intervened with a tip of his head. "I'd assumed life had taught you that particular lesson."
Jill sincerely hoped Wesker's callousness would deal some kind of blow to Amanda's ego, because she was going too far. The prospect of placing duty above family had never sat well with her, and it was incredible to see somebody trying to impose such philosophy onto somebody like Claire, who still had family to cling onto. When Jill saw Leon rub Claire's arms reassuringly, she couldn't help an unseen smile: Claire was lucky to have somebody like him by her side.
"It's not worth it," Amanda uttered, her tone venomous. "It's not worth it." Then, "Allen, I'm going to check up on a few files."
And with that, Amanda took the east exit and disappeared from sight.
A few moments of silence went by before the people in the room turned back to their work. As they did, Allen placed himself next to Claire, looking up at her. "I suppose you wouldn't accept any kind of apology?"
"I don't see why you have to apologize in her place," Claire began, averting her gaze away from him; then, she looked back at Allen again, "but it's alright." She sighed, gesture after which Jill gave her an encouraging nudge in the arm. "God, it happened so fast… I really don't know why I said anything, but…"
"You've got a bite that matches Amanda's pretty well: you've gotten on her bad side" Allen remarked, pushing up his glasses with a frank smile.
"It's her problem, not mine," Claire snapped, shrugging. Allen chuckled.
"I know her well; you put her in her place."
"Why are you congratulating me all of a sudden?" Claire asked, leaning back against Leon. Allen's smile widened.
"It's not that. I admit she was going too far, but be warned: she really has got nothing to lose."
"So she's got a vendetta against Chris, too?" Rebecca inquired, hands tucked inside her pockets. Allen shook his head.
"It would seem so." Allen sighed. "I think she thinks Chris killed Oliver."
"What?" Jill blurted out, careless. "That's-"
"-a bit of a twist?" Allen completed with a smirk. "Yup, it is. Don't ask me why she thinks so, but it's like that. Oliver knew me well, he knew I'd make Amanda… well, let's say change; he trusted me. After the BSAA dissolved, I knew you and Oliver were the only ones left with common sense: I know you tried to set things right by killing the son of a bitch that got all of you into this mess." Jill grew stiff when Allen addressed her. "Oliver told me about Chris, his apparent 'death' and how someone had agreed to help him pull Chris together again. Pity we were too late; I hope Greene gets what she deserves."
"There's something I don't understand," Jill said, voicing out her thoughts, which drew everyone's attention to herself. "Why would Oliver trust you more than his sister?"
Allen looked forlorn. "Amanda's and Oliver's relationship was a bit difficult; it always was, though that never weakened their bond. He was somehow overly protective of Amanda, and he knew she would follow his steps when she had the chance," Allen replied, downbeat. "I have the feeling Oliver had smelled the mess way before it hit the fan but… either he let himself be killed or he really was tricked. Amanda knows part of the truth; that's why she believes the contrary to what happened."
"It won't help matters, but maybe 'indirectly' would settle something in a near future," Wesker said with a light shrug. "It's exactly what happened, and I suggest we settle this matter the sooner, the better."
Jill looked at him, inquisitive, but he paid no heed to her gaze. She knew why. Amanda had just entered their game, and her blow had been pre-emptive.
And luckily or not, she had missed.
–
"Don't let it get to you. It'll be settled," Allen said with that trademark frank smile of his. Claire smiled back and watched Allen leave in the other direction, his wheelchair creaking slightly.
She wondered how was it that Amanda and Allen got along so well when Amanda was more dangerous than a viper and had a shorter temper than her own. Allen had 'briefed' her and the others about most of their relationship, skipping details Claire had considered obvious, but she still couldn't totally understand Amanda's personality. Of course, you never knew somebody entirely by looking at them nor by just exchanging a few words with them, small talk sometimes, but Claire's interest had been piqued. Despite Claire had already placed herself in Amanda's bad side and was still upset by her words and disposition, she knew there was more to her than met the eye. She had been told Oliver was Amanda's stepbrother, so perhaps that factor played in her favor when it came to building up determination.
Allen had showed each of them a room where to stay, much likely against Amanda's will, but Allen himself could've cared no less. Claire had been the last one he'd spoken to since, as Allen had said, he wanted a bit of a private word with her, and she was thankful for it. She didn't know why, considering Allen was somebody she'd just met, but he had caused one hell of a good impression. He had the looks of a simpleton and a happy-go-lucky guy, with shoulder-length brown hair in a slight need of a trim, bright but serious dark eyes and simple clothes. Claire hadn't asked him about his disability; he hadn't made a single mention of it, either. What he had joked about was his own name and his skill with tools, hence his lenience towards those who made a pun on his name. He had been open and sincere with her: she didn't know if that was his personality or if he had seen something in her.
Offhand, he's a nice guy. And he's got to be tolerant and have infinite patience if he's stood Amanda for so long.
Claire stepped into her room. It was simple, like a hotel room, but it was well lit and had a cozy look to it. It consisted of a single bed, a desk at the far corner, a bathroom and a closet: the basics. There was also a mirror next to the closet, and she walked up to it. She looked at her reflection without actually seeing it, her mind wandering away. She was probably overreacting, but what Amanda had said about Chris had hit a nerve in her, had made a flurry of emotions to rise in her, emotions she had felt very frequently.
If she places duty above family and has such an opinion against Chris, then I'll show her she's wrong. I'm going to get him back and she won't stop me.
"Expect a more complex version of me…" Wesker had said back in Manhattan. As she let her hair down and combed it with her fingers, Claire's mind suddenly went back to Rockfort, where she had bore witness to his superhuman abilities, and then remembered what Chris had told her about them. If Chris was indeed more complex, more dangerous, more… powerful, then Claire wasn't likely to stand a chance against him. She frowned, blinked a few times as she weighed her options. She settled for an insane but logical conclusion, one that perhaps wouldn't happen. It was worth the try, though: Chris' survival and her own depended on that.
Claire had no second thoughts on it. She dropped her bag next to the door and dashed towards Wesker's room, trying to undo the knot in her gut with words of reassurance. A shiver ran up her legs and spine when she reached her destination. She was about to request help from him! Wesker, her and Chris' sworn enemy!
I'm insane… but it's got to work. Otherwise, I'm lost.
She knocked a few times but got no response. Then, a sound similar to Wesker's voice came from the other side, so she made her way in as carefully as she could. She wasn't surprised when she saw the room to be almost identical to hers and like her, he hadn't unpacked. Because of her survey of the room, she failed to notice Wesker had turned to face her; when she did, she jumped. He chuckled.
"You come in looking for me, knowing where I'd be, and it turns out you didn't expect me to be here?" he inquired with a smirk. "A good paradox, don't you think?"
She shrugged, gathering her wits, and a black mark on his right arm suddenly caught her attention. It snaked around his forearm and hand like thread and Claire could've sworn one of the loops just undid itself. The faint lighting of the room made it difficult to distinguish clearly and although the hunch remained, Claire paid no more attention to it. Wesker had noticed her stare and reached toward his jacket.
"You don't-" Claire began, which made Wesker stop and look at her. I might as well finish the sentence. "You don't have to hide that." She fell silent, breaking eye contact in a contrite gesture, and then his grip around the jacket loosened: he didn't pick it up.
"And you should let your hair down more often."
Claire jumped at his remark, feeling her cheeks blush intensely. And there he stood, as casual as if nothing had ever happened! She once more gathered her wits and replied, "W-what- Was that a compliment?" A laugh of disbelief escaped her. "You're not hitting on me, are you?"
Wesker chuckled, amused. "I wouldn't risk it, to be frank."
"Then you just like making me nervous?"
"It sure took you long to realize that," he replied, cocking his head to one side. Then, his tone changed, "Do you need anything?"
The moment of truth had come. It was time to be open and put her cards on the table.
"I've… I've got a favor to ask from you," she said, tucking her fringe behind her ear.
"And I've got a question," he said. Claire nodded, giving him the go-ahead. "Why is it that you turn to me instead of somebody else? I take it you trust the others more than me, so I see no logic to your decision."
Claire bit her lip, then said, "Because you are the only one who can… I'll be honest: you're the only one who can help me this time. You can't imagine how much I've wanted to avoid this, but doing it would be stupid." She was bringing herself down to the level he had always placed her in: the level of helplessness. She was giving him the satisfaction of hearing her ask for his help; he was probably enjoying it as much as a serial killer with a brand new weapon to use.
A bit of a dark metaphor, really…
But when she looked up, she found no trace of cockiness or arrogance in his features, only curiosity. "At least you're smart and know where to look for assistance. What's that favor?"
Claire took a deep breath. "Back in Manhattan, you mentioned Jill and I were the only ones who… who could deal some 'damage' to Chris' mind and make him listen to reason."
"Correct."
"And you also said he was a more complex version of you." She fought back tears not of humiliation, but of raw anger. "If he's really more complex, and consequently more dangerous and powerful, then…" She cursed herself when her voice faltered.
"Let me guess: you fear you will not be able to fight him when the time comes," he stated, neutral.
She chuckled, bitter. "Do you read minds or something?"
He shook his head. "No, not minds: eyes." Wesker shifted his stance. "I'll be frank with you, if you allow me. I've seen it now, I saw it back when you were arguing with Amanda, I saw it back when you pointed a gun at your brother: you've got that same look in your eyes. You're not afraid of what you're capable of doing or what you might do, but of the impotence. Correct me if I'm mistaken."
To her dismay and, somehow, relief, he wasn't mistaken. Claire was also afraid of that he had mentioned: she knew that, in an outburst, she could do something she would later regret; she also feared being unable to do it, to simply watch as Chris suffered a fate worse than death. And she wanted to be strong, stronger so that she could fight on par with him, stronger so that she could get him back.
"You're not mistaken," she admitted, looking away. "I just don't want to be a witness to his actions: I want to fight him. And I think you know what it means to strive for strength?"
"I do, yes," he spoke with a nod. A pause, then, "How far are you willing to go?"
"E-excuse me?" Claire couldn't help a slight stammer: would it end how she hadn't expected it to?
"How far are you willing to go, Claire, to get him back?" Wesker asked, his tone harder than before. Snapping out of her shock, Claire stepped forward.
"Anywhere," she replied without hesitation. "As far as it takes."
Silence followed her words once more, then Wesker smiled. "It seems we three have more in common than I originally thought."
Claire frowned at this. "We're nothing like you. Chris and I do strive and fight to get stronger, but it doesn't go beyond that." She sighed.
"I guess you're not going to help me without getting something in return?"
"To be honest, I won't ask for anything yet," Wesker said, pensive. "The debt will be paid in due time. You know what I would ask for would be for a chance to kill him once he's regained his common sense," he told her with a crooked smile that quickly disappeared, "but no, that's not what I want yet." He made yet another pause. "Tell me something: do you trust me enough to put your skills in my hands?"
"What do you mean with that?"
"For you to stand your ground against Chris, I'm going to give a full three-sixty spin to your skills; it will be like going back to square one," he explained with two steps towards her. "It will be a short but intense training, so don't expect me to start easy on you. I may be lenient at rare times, but have in mind that is a luxury you will not have when facing your brother."
Claire nodded, taking in all he had said. "I suppose it's not a matter of trust and-or lenience: it's about getting on to the matter and pulling through." She let out a sharp exhale. "So yeah, I trust you that much. Don't ask me why, but I do." Suddenly, she felt like smiling at him. "Thanks."
"Did I just hear a 'thank you'?" he asked, more rhetoric than anything. Claire chuckled.
"It must've been your imagination; I didn't say something like that," she replied, shrugging. She shared a long look with him, as if breaking the silence was a rule not to be broken, and then he said,
"I'll see if we can use a place to start today."
"Today?" she echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"The early bird catches the best worm, or so the saying goes," he remarked with a matter-of-fact gesture. "We can settle the time between nine and ten, though I believe ten would prove better."
"How long would it last?"
"As long as necessary," was Wesker's impassive answer. Claire accepted the consequences of her decision: it was that or running away, and she would not do that. She nodded, walked to the door and with her hand on the doorknob, she faced him with a smile, half of it hidden by her hair.
"Alright. And… thanks again."
"I just thought of something you can do for me: don't say that again," Wesker said, turning around.
"Why not?"
The look he sent her over his shoulder gave her the impression the comment would be sarcastic.
"You'll make me blush."
Claire was simply floored. Though predictable, it had also taken her by surprise.
She would make sure to kick his ass in return.
A/N: Okay, so things are building up: I have introduced Amanda & co. to you, Amanda and Claire are officially arch-enemies because of their different points of view on family and Claire looks about to lose her mind. Yes, I am getting her and Wesker to interact a bit more (this will NOT head the way some of you may be expecting; I'm not changing the pairings). Wesker has agreed to help her for a very good reason, a reason that has come back to bite him: if you re-read the last few chapters of DoU, you will see Claire did something that was of great help to Wesker. That's the way being a man of your word comes back to bite your butt, I'd say xDDDD
On another note, I am well aware that some of you may not like how I've shaped Amanda, and rightfully so. It's the first time (but not my last) to shapte somebody up like her, with such a snappy and self-centered personality. She's also on the side I wouldn't dare to step on unless the situation required it, so I've kinda fleshed out my dark side in here. Beware, she's not a carbon copy of myself but she's got a few attributes I have. Whether you like my decision or not, I thought it was the best choice. I mean, how else can you shape a character if not looking at yourself at first?
Next time: an interlude focusing on everyone (including Vithar, Chris and Marco) and opening YET ANOTHER plot; I'll let you guess, too.
Reviews are appreciated!^^