AN - I finished with this sooner than expected (which always seems to happen ^_^). I may not have much time to post over the next week or two (or three), but I will continue to write at every available opportunity, so the wait should hopefully not be too long.
For some reason, I started listening to Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down when I was writing part of this chapter and it kept coming back to me every time I thought about it lol. But 'dark side of the moon' doesn't come from there...I just liked the allegory. I guess that's why the song became stuck in my head ^_^.
I'd like to say a humongous thank you to everyone who reviewed the prologue. I was amazed by the response. I didn't think that many people would R&R this lol. So thank you all - tek, MathiasMatt, .-SnipingWolf, Ivilith, Rock Lees Lotus, Ultimolu, Tani2, Anonymous, Ninja-Gnome, Sparkle Valentine, xwittychickx, xSummonerYunax, KT324, Kenshin13, Razial, J.L. Zielesch and Pet Seahorse. Thank you also to everyone who added this story to their favourites and alerts lists!
Blindside
Chapter One – The Dark Side of the Moon
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"A great flame follows a little spark."
~Dante Alighieri~
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Five months later...
August 7, 2003. 8:45am. Dallas, Texas.
"Don't you dare!" Chris threatened, glaring at the hand that drew ever closer to the car radio. Her fingers disobeyed his baseless warning and she ejected the cassette, throwing it onto the chaotic backseat.
"I can't think over the damn noise," Jill spat. Not once did she turn to look at him, far too concerned with the sights of a city she had never seen before - or perhaps the distraction they provided.
Chris swore vehemently under his breath, the heat barely affecting the coldness of the atmosphere that had fallen somewhere between Memphis and Little Rock. She had not expected any more from him, and he had expected a hell of a lot more from her; that was where the basis of their predicament lay. Friendly chit-chat had initially prevailed, until one word had been spoken out of place and suddenly they were being pulled over by Arkansas' finest and told to calm it down or cease from continuing their journey until differences had been settled.
No reason had been confirmed for the beginning of the verbal war, but both knew what it was that hung in the air between them; the one source of arguments over the last week.
"You should have taken a left back there," she pointed out.
"Shut up!" he snarled. "I know where I'm going; just keep your mouth shut so I can concentrate."
Her mild disinterest in the minor extension of their journey turned suddenly into a personal matter with his harsh words.
"Don't tell me to shut up!" she yelled. "What is wrong with you?"
"You, Jill, that's what's wrong," he shouted back. "You take the most innocent thing and you turn it into an issue."
"You're the only one with issues here!" she countered.
She knew that she had been a fool to assume that their relationship would be smooth-sailing from the start. Their friendship had often been volatile; love set the stakes far higher and suddenly jealousy and possessiveness came rushing forth. If things were complicated before, they had no bearing on what had pounced upon them the moment their lips had touched.
It did not help that they were each as fiery and stubborn as one another. A simple misunderstanding had the potential to turn into World War III.
"I'm not afraid to commit," he muttered.
It was as though a fuse had suddenly been lit inside her gut. Fury flowered like a barrage of flames, searing everything on its path to her vocal cords. A moment later, the car came to a standstill, traffic stretching ahead further than their field of vision allowed.
"Oh no," she exploded. "You remember that line we talked about? That is crossing it!"
"Great, now we're stuck here," he fumed, ignoring her sudden outburst. "If you hadn't been distracting me, we would probably be there by now."
A closed fist collided with his arm, forcing him to turn and register the fury in her eyes. Part of him cowered at such a powerful display, but he was riled up and ready to fight stubbornly to an end he could declare victorious.
"Oh, grow up," she snarled. "I know what this is about. You're still pissed because I won't move in with you, right?"
Chris laughed, but she sensed admission in his hesitance.
"I'm pissed because you keep picking fault with everything I say or do! I asked you to live with me, you said no; that should have been the end of it."
"It should," she agreed. "But for the past two weeks, you have been acting- It's obvious that it's still bugging you!"
She released her seatbelt, turning when an erratic hand gesture almost caught his jaw.
"Why is it so difficult for you to accept that-?"
"Why?" Chris interrupted, jaw set stubbornly. "Why don't you want to live with me? We've been dating five months, in love a hell of a lot longer than that and most of your crap is at my apartment anyway. We spend most of the time together, what difference will it make if you just give up your apartment and make it official?"
Jill groaned, pushing anger aside for the sake of rationality; the only emotion that would ensure a swift end to the argument.
The traffic remained stationary around them, the warm Texan sun beating down upon the heated Chevrolet. Neither of them knew why the BSAA had called the meeting in Dallas, of all places; it was a UN matter, the meeting should have been in Manhattan or Washington at the very least. Hell, the Ministry of Defence was involved in the judgement of the transition from diplomatic taskforce to military unit; Arlington was not far from their home, surely that would have made a far better venue. Any one of these alternate destinations would have afforded them a much shorter and perhaps more pleasant journey. After all, it was the detour to Nashville she had been so desperate to take that had preceded the tension. A few, quiet days to themselves had evidently been too much to ask for.
"Because now I have somewhere to run," she answered. "I have somewhere I can retreat when I just want to be alone. If we lived together, we would be in each other's faces twenty-four seven and we're already tearing each other apart. If the BSAA is approved for combat, we will be spending every waking minute together in a war zone and it will be nice to return to my own apartment, soak in my own tub and lay down in my own bed, alone. Besides, it's…too soon."
He huffed quietly and she knew that her explanation had not even touched upon what he wanted to hear. That was where the problem lay; he only wanted to hear one thing and she was not willing to lie to him. Too much had been torn apart through dishonesty and well-meaning little white lies. It was either lay everything bare or live in two separate worlds.
"You're afraid to commit, Jill," he pressed. "Every time we face something serious you run away. Is it me? Am I the problem?"
"Partly, yes," she seethed. "You're too damn bull-headed."
"You know that's not what I meant."
The anger returned swiftly as her suspicions were confirmed. Chris was not insecure, she knew that much, but she felt that sometimes he did not trust that her feelings for him were true.
"I can't believe you would even insinuate that," she growled, eyes beginning to water in a deeply unwelcome move. "If I didn't love you, Chris, I sure as hell would not be wasting my time here."
Before he could return fire, she gripped the door handle and pushed, setting feet onto the hot surface of the road.
"Where are you going?" he groaned.
"I'm walking," she sneered stubbornly. "I won't stay here and be insulted."
"Jill!" His fingers found her wrist as she moved away from him, holding tightly but not painfully so. "Baby, don't go."
She pulled away violently and slammed the door closed before he could follow her out.
"Don't 'baby' me!" she warned him through the open window, tasting the venom that dripped from every word. "And you wonder why I don't want to live with you?"
With that, she marched away from the car. She travelled but a few feet when the extent of the tailback became visible; the Dallas skyline seemed to be miles away, and between the stretch of road that they occupied and the city, there appeared to be several hundred vehicles.
'This was a stupid idea,' she realised.
The traffic moved, slowly but surely, and the SUV to her left was suddenly half a dozen feet further towards the city than it had been moments before.
"Are you going to get in?" Chris asked as the silver Chevrolet rolled up beside her. She tried to ignore his deep, irritating voice, but the chuckle that followed was almost enough to drive her mad.
"Get lost," she spat. As luck would have it, traffic stopped once again and the Chevy fell behind, Chris's voice disappearing with it.
"Jill!"
She was aware of the childishness of her behaviour, but she could think of no other way to react to his argument. Sometimes, talking to him was about as useful to the situation as walking away; at least by walking she could retain some part of her sanity.
Footsteps sounded behind her and she was spun around without a moment's warning, forced to face the man whose mere presence riled her.
"This is ridiculous," Chris pointed out. "Please, just get in the car and we'll try to be civil about this."
She glared stubbornly. This was not a battle she was willing to lose.
"Can you even remember how this argument started?" he asked.
A pause for thought turned into a minute's silence as she replayed the previous day in her mind. Truth be told, she could not remember the exact moment a romantic night in Nashville had turned into the threat of a citation. She failed to remember why they had begun to argue in the first place; it had simply just happened. No blame could be placed, no reasoning acceptable. All it had been was a misunderstanding she could no longer recall. It could very well have been entirely her fault.
"Come on," Chris laughed as he recognised the look of defeat that fell into her eyes. "Get back in the car. There's a junction up ahead we can exit on; we'll be at the hotel soon."
His hands held her waist softly and lips pressed against her temple. She did not react to his affection, but did not push him away; it was a small victory in his eyes.
"I love you," he insisted. "This isn't worth it. Alright, I still don't understand why cohabitation is such a big deal to you, but I shouldn't have questioned your feelings. I'm sorry. You still love me?"
He spoke these final words with a daring smile, and though her eyes still glistened with malice, she had yet to throw him to the ground, which he knew she was more than capable of doing.
"That's the problem," she growled as she pushed him away playfully.
From somewhere in the lane of cars to their right, quiet applause could be heard when she allowed him to pull her into a tight embrace.
The traffic moved once they were settled back into the comfortable seats of Chris's car, and though there was not a word exchanged between the two, the air was far warmer now that an amicable agreement had been reached.
They were lucky enough to reach the hotel with an hour to spare; more than enough time to unpack and wash up before the summit. With the GPC footing the hotel bill, all issues were gratefully lacking the nasty bite of financial trouble. The years they had spent working underground, funding the fight with their own money, had left their finances in a sorry state; only now were they beginning to crawl out of debt and into a more comfortable way of living.
Jill seemed to arrive at the same conclusion as her boyfriend; thank the Lord the rate was not coming out of their own pockets. They had both initially expected to be placed in a motel or at the very least the cheapest option available; it appeared that they were the only two in the lobby not wearing business attire and pulling suitcases that likely would have set them back a month's rent.
"We have a booking under the name of Redfield," Chris offered, snapping Jill from her awestruck thoughts for a moment. The receptionist made a mark upon the book before her and smiled politely at each half of the couple as she placed two key cards upon the desk.
"Is our room a double?" she asked, pricking at Chris's suspicion.
"Yes, ma'am," the receptionist smiled. "Room five-oh-four."
"That's great," Jill chirped in a sickeningly sweet voice. "But would it be possible to change to a twin? Or two singles, preferably on opposite sides of the hotel?"
The receptionist blinked in confusion, her eyes flitting suddenly to a rather red-faced Chris.
"We're on our honeymoon," he joked.
"Could you perhaps book him into one of your suites?" Jill asked through gritted teeth, held awkwardly to him by an overly insistent arm. "It's likely that a tragedy will befall him before the weekend is over, so it would be best if we could make his last days as comfortable as possible."
The receptionist stuttered, not quite sure what to make of the strange display.
"We…uh…I'm sorry, but we're fully booked at the moment?" she tried.
"She's just messing around," Chris laughed sarcastically, taking the key cards they had been offered. "Right, honey?"
She was pulled suddenly as he turned, the weight of her bag causing her to stumble as it pressed into her side. Though she still felt irritated to the back teeth with his inability to accept that she just wanted her own space, she allowed a laugh to ring out. Somewhere along the line, hostility had morphed into somewhat of a joke. As usual, she could not see the point at which the two differing states merged.
Hot and cold had been the way many others had described their relationship and she agreed with them to a certain extent; if they were not ripping at each other's clothes they were ripping at each other's throats. Their friendship had not been so different, but these days she recognised that making up was a hell of a lot more fun. Because that's what they were doing; having fun.
It was easier to think of it in these simple terms. Love had a nasty tendency of complicating things.
August 7, 2003. 1:00pm. Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, Texas.
The heat was perhaps the only aspect of Texas that Claire had failed to anticipate and, looking back, it seemed the most ridiculous oversight that she could make. With a short pause and a quick shuffle out of the heavier of her items of clothing, her jacket soon found its way into the top of her lightly-packed suitcase and she was able to continue on her way without the itch of perspiration against her skin.
She hoped that she had timed the flight correctly; she was sure that her brother's meeting would be over by now. If not…well, she had a long wait ahead of her. She was unsure if she had even been booked into the correct hotel.
"Excuse me ma'am," spoke an intrusive voice as she made for the exit and the hopeful breeze that lay beyond. "I'm going to have to ask you to step aside."
There were perhaps two or three seconds between that moment and the moment she planned to launch a verbal assault upon whichever bigwig had chosen to stop her this time. But two seconds was all it took for her to register the familiar tone of the voice and smile sarcastically.
Sure enough, he was there when she turned, all five feet and ten inches of him, that cocky grin she had never witnessed upon his features prior to his spending time with her brother. Even his posture as he rested against the wall seemed to mock her in a friendly manner; so self-assured, so…irritating.
"Come here," she demanded, waving hastily in a beckoning motion with a hand on an outstretched arm.
"It's good to see you," Leon laughed as he accepted her arm and pulled her into a crushing embrace.
"What are you doing here? How did you even know I was on my way?"
"Chris talks a lot," he explained with a smile. "You want me to get that?"
Claire followed his gaze to her small, pink case and laughed beneath her breath.
"I think I got it," she brushed off. "There better be a car waiting outside. A limo, actually, Mr. Hot-Shot Agent."
Leon's arm remained around her shoulders as they walked; a stark contrast to the awkward nickname she had bestowed upon him. At twenty-six years old, his maturity far outshone his chronological age, but it pleased her to see that beneath the stern exterior he retained the youth she felt had been stripped from them all by Umbrella. She had feared that the government would rob her of the cheery friend she had once known, but it seemed that he saved all of his jokes for the rare times he found himself off duty.
Robocop was another nickname she had handed him, so stern was his behaviour when deeply embroiled in a case. Perhaps it was this friendly jibe that had encouraged him to lighten up around her?
"Chris will be glad to see you," he told her, seriousness settling in after a short pause for laughter. "He misses you. And…let's just say he wasn't exactly the picture of happiness when the meeting was adjourned."
"Oh," Claire spoke solemnly, suddenly putting two and two together and stumbling across the reason for his presence in a city far from his home. "Let me guess, the Consortium roped you into the whole BSAA deal?"
"Something like that," he confirmed, smile now drifting away on the none-existent breeze as they stepped through the airport entrance. "The decision to award them combat status was made quite easily; the meeting was a mere formality. But, the government wants one of their own to have an inside view of the first mission, to ensure that their decision was the right one."
Chris would not have been happy with this, she realised. He often ranted about the government's incompetency where Wesker and Spencer were concerned; though both men were currently hovering near the top of the FBI's most wanted list, nobody seemed to be making an active effort to find them. In reality, the authorities were dedicated to locating the two fugitives, but it was nowhere near aggressive enough for Chris's liking. Her brother was often like a pit-bull; let him sink his teeth into something and it would be torn to pieces before he let go.
"So when is this mission?" she felt obliged to ask.
"A little over two weeks," he answered. "They're rushing the medical this afternoon, results should be back within a week and hopefully all of the preliminary planning will be finalised by then. I think it's a damn stupid idea to rush this, but they want the unit up and running ASAP. I guess this is the test run."
Claire did not like the sound of this. Chris and Jill would likely be forerunners of the assignment, and their ordeal had begun when they were forced to act as guinea pigs five years previously. They may have been desperate to be of use again – did she ever know how that felt – but she feared that the circumstances were far too dangerous.
"Don't look so disheartened," he urged. "I'll be there, as will the Redfields; it will all work out."
She chuckled at his words. Fighting had been a favoured pastime of Chris and Jill since the day they met; the instigation of a relationship was one step closer to the 'old married couple' stereotype they were often afforded. Needless to say, when Barry revealed the collective nickname Joseph Frost had devised, they were sure to mention it at every available opportunity.
"Strange, though," Leon mused. "Of the original eleven, Chris and Jill are the only members involved in this mission."
"If it proves to be as chaotic as you assume, do you blame the others?" she asked grimly. "My brother has no concept of danger, and neither, it would appear, does Jill."
Leon's arm slipped from around her with a faint laugh. The air was cool for a summer's day, but still far warmer than either of them was used to.
"I assume you will be accompanying us when everything is set in motion?"
Claire nodded. He need not have asked.
"Where are we going?"
"No idea," he confessed. "Everything is being hushed up until the team is selected. Until then, make yourself comfortable."
Her eyes followed the direction of an outstretched hand and she could not contain her joy when she caught sight of the sleek black Bentley that waited obediently by the entrance.
"Oh, now you're just showing off."
August 7, 2003. 1:25pm. Dallas, Texas.
A second glass shattered, though this time it had been entirely accidental. Was one drink too much to ask for? With an irritated sigh, Chris placed the bottle back into the bar and scooped the shattered glass into an unsteady hand.
"Be careful," Jill warned as she stepped from the ensuite, removing a small earring from her lobe.
"I am!" he fired back. "Damn it, how long do we have?"
"About three hours," she chuckled. "Look, just lie down and try to relax. You've been on your feet all day."
He considered pointing out that the only reason he had been 'on his feet all day', so to speak, was that she had picked a fight with him and he had been consequently relegated to the uncomfortable floor of their motel, meaning that he was lucky if he had achieved two hours' sleep. But he had learned not to pick fights with her merely for the sake of it; while she would meet his rage with her own equally frightening fury, she had come to distinguish true arguments from those he had instigated for the sake of it and would not react when the latter occurred. It was annoying as hell, but he would admit that he had learned to kick this bad habit thanks to her efforts.
"I just don't understand why the God damn government have to be involved in this," he vented as he rose to his feet. "The last thing we need is some suit telling us what to do. This is our unit!"
"It's one mission, Chris," she sighed and reached out to place a soothing touch upon his arm.
He pulled away and dropped down onto the edge of the large bed, fearful that anger would cause his legs to buckle.
"And Spencer is one man. Look at how they're handling that. Damn it, they should both have been brought in by now! All we are facing is setback after setback."
Jill did not have a reply to offer to this and disappointment surfaced; he was seeking reassurance and encouragement. If she could not offer it then perhaps there was none to be sought. He did not like to feel tested and this was exactly the position the government was putting them in; if they passed this mission, they would find endorsement from the President himself, if not then it was back to square one.
He felt the mattress bend behind him as she climbed onto the bed, warm fingertips pressing against his neck a moment later.
"I understand that you are angry," she insisted. "But you need to calm down otherwise your blood pressure will be through the roof and you will fail this medical. If that happens, you won't be on this assignment."
"That's easy enough for you to say," he huffed. "It's been months since the court case, and not a single lead has turned up."
Her fingertips glided across the base of his neck, tracing hard contours until they pressed into the knotted muscle of his shoulders. He could almost feel the tension dissipate beneath her touch; she always had been rather talented with her hands.
"Spencer should be behind bars by now," he continued to rant, concentration beginning to wane. "He should...pay for...for..."
Her touch was like medicine; more disorienting than a sedative and far more effective than anger management therapy. It was as though her fingers massaged thoughts right out of his mind. When her white hot lips pressed to the top of his spine, he knew that there was absolutely no point in even attempting to hold on to his anger.
In that moment he was filled with comfort of the highest level; love, crushing all the negativity he had felt barely a second ago. No other woman had ever had such an effect on him. While it had once terrified him, he had learned to accept it and to do his damn best to repay all that she did for him.
He knew that while they drove each other crazy on occasion, what they had was worth a lifetime of disagreements.
"You were saying?" she purred. He could hear a smile on her voice.
"How do you do that?" he grunted, annoyed that he had not an angry thought left in his mind.
She simply laughed, and continued to work the strain from his shoulders.
With no background noise drowning out his thoughts, they turned, as they always did, to her. Jill always tried hard not to let her worry show, but he knew her better than to believe her waning smile. Initially, he had not understood why she closed her heart and mind when he found it much easier to wear his negative emotions where the world could see them. Now he knew. So many people looked up to them, and they were responsible for each of them in a capacity that far surpassed physical guidance. They were the pillars that upheld morale; if they faltered, so too did the team. Though she herself may have often claimed otherwise, she was selfless in his eyes, always placing the wellbeing of others before her own comfort. It was a trait that often worried him; he had seen many soldiers fall at his side through selflessness. It was the price of being a hero, and though he loved her every flaw, this was one he feared immensely.
"How do you feel about this?" he asked as he raised a hand back over his shoulder to hold hers. "It's such a sudden change."
"It is," she agreed. "But I'll be fine. At the end of the day, there is not much we can do other than obey for now and hope we make it past this initial hurdle in one piece. If we have to suffer a little now, so be it."
She slipped her arms beneath his and rested her head on his shoulder, unable to resist tickling his ribs gently.
"But..." she added as a darkly considered afterthought. "I am worried. Not about the mission or about the BSAA...about us."
He took her fingers into his hand but remained quiet. Whether it was from shock or from the inability to question those two frightening words, he did not know. But he allowed her to speak, and hoped that his touch upon her skin was enough to show her that there was nothing she should worry about; their argument was routine, and something so trivial would not affect their relationship in the slightest. He knew better than to let her slip through his fingers again.
"The BSAA in its current form has no policy regarding inter-office relationships," she breathed. "But if we are granted clearance, it will essentially be a military unit. There are rules...regulations. At the very least we will be allowed to keep our jobs, but will be prohibited from working as partners. I don't want that, not after all these years."
Chris was contemplative. It was a thought that had crossed his mind many times, but he continuously refused to view their relationship as problematic. Whether they were boyfriend and girlfriend or simply boy and girl, his attitude towards her and towards the task at hand would not change. He would gladly risk his life for hers either way, as she would for him and as both would for any other member of their team. It was not a matter of love or emotions; it was a simple matter of morals and selflessness.
'There goes that word again,' he thought glumly. How selfless could one person be before tragedy followed?
"Their rules won't change anything," he told her. "If they have a problem with us, we'll fight them on it. We're the best damn agents they have; they won't let us go over this."
She laughed into his neck before sliding beside him and offering a chaste kiss. As usual, he took what was offered and ran with it. Surely she could not have expected her ministrations to have any less of an effect on him? He knew when to be gentle and when she was willing to handle more, but rather than wait for her signal this time, he slipped his tongue past her lips, letting her know exactly what he wanted.
That was when she pulled away, mischievous smile playing on her lips.
"I'm not sleeping with you," she laughed.
"Why not?"
"Because," she chirped and hopped to her feet. "I'm still mad at you."
Chris laughed. She had to be joking.
"As stupid of me as it was to take your stubbornness to heart, there was blame to share," he reminded her.
"Alright," she relented, smile not fading. "I agree, we were both equally to blame. I accept that, but I also reserve my right to refuse you and we are not having sex today."
Jill Valentine may have been strong, selfless and kind-hearted, but she was also as devious as the devil itself.
"Well, two can play at that game," he countered. "You're not winning this one, Valentine."
As she began to laugh, ready to follow his plan and retort in a move that would bring her one step closer to his arms, a tentative knock sounded against the door.
"Is it safe to come in?" Claire's voice asked, muffled by the polished oak.
She did not wait for a reply, and pushed open the door slowly, chancing a glance into the room before deeming the coast to be clear and stepping inside.
"Hey, I'm glad you made it," Chris beamed. He found her in moments, embracing her in a vice-like bear hug that she saw fit to rival with a death grip of her own.
He had lost count of the weeks that had flown by since their last meeting; life was far too hectic these days. As expected, she had remained closely at his side through most of the underground days, but no sooner had the hammer fell, she had found her own apartment and her own job far away from his life. She was no child, but in his mind she would always be his little sister. Family always came first and it was difficult for him to accept that the life she had made for herself meant that time together was often limited.
"I have good news," she announced, catching his eye in a manner that signalled understanding. "I got a new job! A managerial position, actually. Lower management, but it's a step forward."
"Congratulations!" Jill said with a smile, reaching over to offer a welcoming embrace. Her eyes flitted to Chris's a moment later; of course, he had forgotten to mention that his sister would be joining them.
"I'll leave you two to catch up," she excused with a wink, before slipping out into the hallway and closing the door carefully behind her.
"So..." Claire began once they were alone. "Leon filled me in. Not exactly what you were expecting, huh?"
Chris sighed. He did not enjoy falling into deeply political discussions with his sister. While he could discuss the mechanics of the organisation he helped found until he was blue in the face, her interest in the subject was purely superficial.
"In many ways, yes," he admitted. "In a blinded way, no."
She patted his shoulder; reassuring without being condescending. Her raising of the topic of the disastrous meeting had effectively removed all joy from the reunion and suddenly most of Jill's work unravelled, anger seeping back into his consciousness.
But then a switch was flicked somewhere in the swirling depths, and he tuned in to words that had previously been processed solely out of habit.
"Leon?" he asked, though it was unnecessary of her to answer. "Wait a minute...Leon? He's the agent the government put on our case, right?"
Claire drew in a sharp breath through her teeth and turned her attention to the bar.
"He didn't tell you that, huh?" she asked, ice crackling as she poured a healthy serving of liquor into one of the few glasses that remained intact.
"I didn't even know he was in town," Chris chuckled. "He must have been hiding at the back."
Leon's presence changed things. He knew Leon, trusted him even. They had saved one another's necks enough times to allow for a mutual sense of camaraderie to fall between the two, if little else. He was far too busy to allow for a deep friendship to develop, but he was a good enough guy and Claire's faith in the man encouraged unconditional trust.
Suddenly, the anger retreated back to the hole into which Jill's greatly appreciated efforts had previously chased it. Leon was not some faceless suit. Yes, this changed everything. It also explained the impromptu phone call he had received three days ago; he was unaware that Leon knew where he lived, let alone possessed his unlisted number.
"I can almost see a smile there," Claire teased.
He cast her a warning glance, but she laughed it off and sipped at her cold beverage. Sunlight streamed in through the half-open blinds and shadows fell upon her face, but little blemishes were to be found. Cool blue eyes were emphasised by the matching red hue of her natural hair tone, reflecting the weight of her personal burden but glistening joyously nonetheless.
That she had made it through their war unscathed, he would be eternally grateful for. He had watched Jill's once flawless skin bruise and break before his eyes, Rebecca's bones facture from toil her body was simply not equipped for; Claire at least had remained intact through the majority of their struggle. He had seen to it that this was so. If he could not protect his best friend, or the mentor who had taught him all that he knew of law enforcement, then he could sure as hell protect his younger sister.
"I'm proud of you," he wanted her to know. "You've made a better life for yourself than any of us ever could."
Claire frowned, eyes dropping to the splash of liquid that remained in the glass. She seemed not to know how to word a reply, even what words would be appropriate.
"Not better," she explained. "Just...safer. Less meaningful, perhaps. I guess you're always proud of what you're not."
With a wry smile, she drained the glass and pushed it to the back of the bar, raising a hand to still a hiccup that rose in her throat.
"Anyway," she announced, abruptly changing the subject. "I checked your appointment time; you have almost two and a half hours until you're needed. How about you take your girls shopping?"
Taking one of 'his girls' shopping was his own personal nightmare; taking both would be self-inflicted torture.
But they were in a new city, the sun was shining and he did have time to kill.
"Why not?"
AN - Please review :)