AN - Whew, this is the longest chapter so far. I can't decide if it's a filler or not. There are events of some importance, a first look at a little C/L and a new character is briefly introduced (as well as the reintroduction of an old character), but I just can't make my mind up lol. I'm trying to keep Mike's role to a bare minimum right now. I don't want to concentrate too much on what's going on with him, hence the shortness of his sections.
The mission is drawing closer now, so things should really start gaining momentum from here, mostly with Chris and Jill. I just want to say that I love hearing everyone's theories and it has been fun to read what you think, both in terms of Jill's secret and the 'Major', so don't be afraid to post what you think (though if you think it could be spoilery, PM me). I know that I say this every time, but updates may be a little slower for the next few chapters. Finals and all that.
The chapter title actually comes from 'While You're Waiting' by Alkaline Trio. I was listening to a random playlist while I was working on this chapter and there was a verse in this song that I actually thought quite went with what I was writing at the time. Strangely enough, I thought 'right before your eyes' fits this chapter perfectly.
Thank you again to everyone who spared a minute or several to review :). KT324, .-SnipingWolf, Ultimolu, namine redfield, Rock Lees Lotus, Ivilith, Sparkle Valentine, tek, Ninja-Gnome, Razial, LordZero, xSummonerYunax and Kenshin13. You all rock ;).
Blindside
Chapter Three - Right Before Your Eyes
-+-
"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."
~Oscar Wilde~
-+-
August 19, 2003. 5:15pm. BSAA temporary headquarters, El Paso, Texas.
Each day that brought the mission closer instilled a deeper sense of dread within each and every agent. It was the short notice that had unnerved them all; they had only been briefed a week before the official launch date, and now that the mission was little over seventy-two hours away. It was not unusual to be given such a short stretch of time in which to prepare, but they had been subjected to no prior training; they were barely a unit.
"Please tell me something that will calm these nerves," Hillary begged when she finally caught up to Jill.
"I wish I could," she sighed wearily. "I'm as much in the dark as you are these days."
"How so?"
Jill bit back her anger. It was not Hillary's fault; she could not help that the lines of communication between herself and Chris had somewhat stalled in the past few days. She had thought it accidental at first, an oversight on his part. After all, he worked hard and her mind had been lagging as of late. But then she would find that work had been completed before she was even aware of its existence, and orders had been passed that she should have had a part in deciding. As his partner, she had an equal amount of responsibility in the planning and preparation of this mission, yet she found that she was equal in terms of knowledge and power with Hillary and the other recruits.
It was insulting, to say the least.
"Crossed lines," she guessed, hiding the truth for the sake of morale.
"Isn't that always the case?" Hillary laughed humourlessly, sensing that it had something to do with her partner. "I actually wanted to ask a favour."
Jill slowed her pace, having failed to realise that Hillary had burst into a light jog in an effort to keep up with her.
She did not have time for favours, not now that Leon had been kind enough to offer her an avenue back into the job she had been assigned in the first place. Because luck had it that there were three in charge of preparation, and though Leon technically ranked below them both he was far busier these days than she was and appreciated the help. She was already late in returning borrowed files to him.
But she had begun to consider Hillary as a friend, and she had proven helpful in ways she was not obliged to; the least that she could do was grant her one favour.
"Go on," she urged.
"It's Chris," Hillary moaned. "I work out a lot; it's part hobby, part obsession. I take it gentle, but I like to hit the gym for at least an hour a day."
Jill nodded, wondering where her speech would lead but part of her knowing already.
"Every time I have been at the weights over the last few days, he's in there and I can tell he's been there for a while," she continued. "Normally, I wouldn't think twice 'bout this, but the other day I left my bag in the locker room and when I passed through the gym a few hours later, he was still there. He pushes himself hard during training, and I'm beginning to worry that he's pushing himself too hard. At this rate, he's going to wipe himself out before we even leave the base."
Though Jill told herself not to worry, she could not help it. Fitness appeared to be his own way of working through withdrawal and the extra stress he had no doubt subjected himself to when he began to shun her assistance.
"As his girlfriend, you probably have more leverage with him than we do," Hillary pointed out. "Could you perhaps talk to him, ask him to take it easy?"
Jill knew that she could, but did not believe that it would do any good. Whatever she asked, he seemed to do the opposite. It was the aftermath of an argument that should have blown over already. But somehow she had managed to cling to the animosity and they had yet to set foot back onto dry land.
"Sure," she agreed, realising that the favour acted as an excuse to set him down and begin a meaningful conversation.
'You need an excuse to talk to your boyfriend?'
"Oh, and I need to get this to Leon," Hillary remembered suddenly, handing over a small silver key. "How's that going, by the way?"
Hillary had strangely been the only person on base with whom Jill had thought to share her irritation. It had not been planned, more of a sudden rant she lacked the ability to hold back, but she felt humbled with how easy the young former lieutenant had been to confide in. It was not enough to uproot more painful secrets, but it was nice to have a confidant on the outside of the immediate blasting zone. In all actuality, it was Hillary who had suggested the idea of approaching Leon for help rather than waiting for Chris to stop blocking her out.
"Great, actually," she admitted with a smile. "He's a lot easier to work with than I expected; it's like we're on the same level. Chris and I would have argued relentlessly by now."
"Not too harsh on the eyes, either."
"Watch it," Jill warned, but found that a smile returned with this thought.
"I'll take that as a sign of agreement," Hillary chuckled. "Window shopping, Jill. You can admire the packaging, you just don't sample it."
Jill thought about this. Falling in love had changed her perspective on relationships completely. She knew that it would be naïve of her to believe that she was the only woman in the world Chris found attractive, and likewise she did not pretend that he was the only good-looking man on the face of the planet. It was love that made all the difference. These other men simply did not appeal to her; she was in love with Chris, and with what they had. In the past she had been approached when off the market and sure, she had flirted back and on occasion cursed her taken status. But now she simple had no interest in any other man, no matter how attractive he may have been; she knew that she had something that was simply not worth risking.
Leon was attractive, and was often flirtatious without intent. He cared about the same things she did, agreed with her when Chris would argue, and kept a level head even in the most dire of situations. The extended time she had spent at his side over the previous days had once again brought to light how good a friend he was. Sometimes, their friendship reminded her of what she had once shared with Chris, of what he now seemed to block for reasons she could not fathom.
"But..." Hillary trailed, bringing them both to a standstill near to the door through which Jill must depart. She glanced into the open room, watching an unperturbed Leon hammer away at the keyboard of a smooth black laptop. "He's not Chris, is he?"
She laughed quietly as Jill shoved her playfully away from the open door.
"It's alright," Hillary laughed. "He's...not my type."
"Well, Leon's single, I could put in a good word," Jill offered slyly. She knew that getting out and having fun was just what her increasingly stressed friend needed. If he was still in denial about his feelings for a particular woman, he may as well try to leave his baggage at the door and have a good time while he waited for his unusually slow brain to catch up with his heart.
'For all the good that did you and Chris,' she reminded herself.
"Nah," Hillary refused before turning to leave. "He's not my type."
A wink effectively ended the conversation and Jill watched with a smile as she disappeared in the direction of the exit. Sometimes, she really did not understand that girl.
Leon barely looked up from his laptop as she strolled over to where he sat.
"Five minutes?" he chuckled. "You've been gone fifteen."
"Oh yeah?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder to observe his 'work'. "C-Red79?"
He quickly closed the chat window and pressed the lid of his laptop down. She could almost see a blush rise to his cheeks as she lifted herself onto the desk beside his equipment and placed the silver key upon the laptop.
"Cute," she commented, unable to hide a smile or a laugh.
"Knock it off," he demanded awkwardly. "I haven't seen her in months; we're just catching up."
"Catching up like you have been the past four days over lunch?" she teased. "And at breakfast? The hotel bar?"
Leon leaned back in his chair, not a single sign of amusement upon his features.
"Jealous?" he asked.
Suddenly, neither party was amused.
"Come on," he pushed through laughter when she did not respond. "I've spent more time with you than I have with her since she arrived. In fact, I'd wager you've spent more time with me than you have with Chris. Am I right?"
Jill wished dearly that she had not started this increasingly uncomfortable conversation. Chris had also recognised the lack of time that they had to simply be a couple. He had picked up on enough to push him into vowing to set time aside to talk and to simply enjoy one another's company. She had thought their problems to be private, secret even. How wrong she was.
"What's going on, Jill?" he asked, voice now soft and caring.
Deep down she wondered why he should care. Contact with Leon had been sporadic at best ever since he had chosen to dive head-first into whatever responsibilities the government had assigned him. She knew that he was a good friend; trustworthy and perhaps the easiest to talk to. Yet she found it difficult to open up as she did with her other friends because of the intermittent opportunities they were awarded to just be friends.
"I know something has happened between the two of you," he revealed. "Chris hates prep more than I do, and suddenly he's taking on your jobs? And I know you never would have sought me out if there was no rift."
Jill grimaced, realising that there was quite possibly no way out of this. If she walked away now, the question would present itself the next time they met, and these days they spent the vast majority of the working day with one another.
"We're just going through a difficult time," she answered with the hope that he would drop the matter.
"You both are?" he asked. "Or you are?"
She pushed herself down from the desk and turned so that he could not see the surprise that rose to her eyes. Had it been so obvious?
"I know about the medical, Jill," he told her, and suddenly she felt the urge to vomit. If Leon knew, then what was to say that Chris did not? Was that why he had been isolating her? Did he believe that she was not fit to carry out the work she had been assigned?
Her heart told her that she was wrong; if he knew, he would not be so cold. He would never leave her side, would be there every moment she felt tears fight for freedom.
Or would he?
"Chris told me," Leon explained when he was met with only silence, and she immediately came to realise her misunderstanding; he did not know the details. "I understand that it's a personal issue, and you have every right to keep it to yourself. But if it's having this much of an effect on your relationship, you're obviously having difficulty coming to terms with whatever was said. Opening up could help. He is so in love with you, Jill; he'll help, no matter what it takes."
Despite the steely quality of his voice, she felt the tenderness of his words and found herself considering his point. Though she expected him to turn tail and run, she knew that Chris would be there for her. After all, he loved her. Had their situations been reversed, she knew that she would give her everything just to comfort him.
But it was not help that she needed from him...it was understanding.
"Do you even know what they said?" she asked. It was the detail that mattered, that put her on a knife's edge.
Leon shook his head, not once allowing his expression to falter.
"Do you see these scars?" he asked, holding out his right arm to display two small, circular scars roughly an inch apart on the forearm, near his elbow. She would not have noticed had he not pointed them out. "I was on an assignment in South America last year. I wasn't in the country for long, and I was given a clean bill of health when I returned. Savaged by mosquitoes, though...they stick to me like flies to shit."
Jill crossed her arms across her chest, unsure of where exactly this conversation was going.
"I had several bites on my arms," he continued. "They itched like hell and two in particular seemed to be steadily growing worse. I woke up one morning and they were...oozing, the stuff was all over my sheets. So, I got it checked out and the doctor told me the bites were infected, gave me some antibiotics, wrapped my arm up and told me to wait it out."
He frowned at the small, circular scars and surreptitiously scratched the surrounding skin, perhaps suffering phantom itches from an infection that obviously disturbed him to this day.
"They itched like hell and damn they hurt," he told her. "The antibiotics weren't working and I was in so much pain one night I ripped the bandage clean off. Can't say I was expecting to see something bulbous wiggle beneath my skin."
Jill raised a hand to her mouth, repulsed by the mere description.
"Yeah," Leon laughed. "That was my reaction. I was staying with family at the time and my cousin recognised what it was, said his friend had returned from Central America with exactly the same problem. Turned out a pair of botfly larvae had burrowed into my skin. Which meant that taking antibiotics was actually making things worse. Well hell, I didn't want to wait to return to base and have the medic fish them out; my cousin had done it before, I made him do it again. It was pretty much a case of coating the holes in Vaseline, waiting for them to surface for air and plucking them out with tweezers. But they have these...claws that they dig into your flesh and...well, they didn't exactly want to come out, did they? They weren't even small, they were....fat. Like-"
He looked up to Jill and stopped when he gauged her reaction.
"Sorry," he apologised. "I usually only tell this story in a bragging sense. But my point is...I had two ugly ass worms feeding off my arm for God knows how long. Whatever they told you, it can't possibly be as bad - or as embarrassing - as that."
Though she agreed, she bit her tongue when a retort surfaced. She had sat through her fair share of horrific 'insect attack' programs, and had prayed on many occasions that she would never be so unlucky as to play host to such vermin. Yet in a way, she had played host to far worse. The pain from the T-virus infection had not set in until after Carlos had left her side, but when it had she began to wish that he had not taken her weapon as a 'precaution'. But it was the preceding effects that had left her to suffer nightmares even to this day. The smell had come first: the overwhelming scent of something long since dead. She had known it was her own wound, the scent of flesh decaying, but could not find the stomach to peel back the bandage that Carlos had wrapped tightly around it and observe the damage.
Soon, the hunger set in, powerful and desperate. She had reached for the candy bars that had been left beside her on the altar, and had regurgitated them a moment later. The taste was nothing she had experienced; how could chocolate taste so...acrid? It was then that she realised the smell that lingered in the air had changed, had evolved into something sweet and aromatic. It took every ounce of strength within her to not raise a wounded arm to her mouth and to taste the blood that trickled from a recent, self-inflicted wound. Initially, she had been scratching the flesh from her bones...now she longed to feast upon it, so overwhelming was the sense of starvation.
She was unsure if those moments had been a simple hallucination; after all, she had suffered through so many that seemed real, she remained disoriented for a short while after the cure had been delivered. Having believed that necrosis had set in to the painful wound on her shoulder, she was surprised to see that when she redressed it, healing seemed to be progressing at a natural rate. Perhaps that was the function of the T-virus; to mess with one's head before it claimed the body.
"Everything is horrific in its own way," she told him, mind drifting back to her current predicament.
Therein the point lay. The dilemma existed because she could see the situation only from her own point of view. She felt cheated, angry and frightened; would Chris if he knew? When she looked at Leon, she often felt as though she were gazing into a gender-indifferent mirror, so similar to one another she recognised them to be. His mind seemed to work the way hers did, and quite often his thoughts matched hers on a level that was both amusing and disturbing.
She knew that she needed advice, someone to at least help her set her mind straight. Who better to ask than Leon Kennedy?
"I need you to promise me something," she requested, fighting for the will to continue. She had yet to speak her predicament aloud, had yet to admit to what she faced.
He locked eyes with her and nodded to show that he could be trusted - a fact she was already sure of.
"You can't breathe a word of what I'm about to say to anyone," she pleaded. "Not even Chris...especially not Chris."
August 19, 2003. 5:30pm. El Paso, Texas.
The restaurant was more than he had hoped for; laid back and intimate, the perfect venue for a date. Truth be told, Chris had not embarked on many formal dates in recent years. While he and Jill had made every effort to begin their relationship with a series of dates, they had always ended up with a pizza and a rented movie. Neither had complained; they both preferred the intimacy of such a setting as opposed to the scrutiny of dozens of unfamiliar eyes when on a public date. But he liked to take her out every once in a while and though she often claimed indifference, he knew that she enjoyed the treat.
He had gleefully anticipated their date this evening, had even clocked off a little early so he would not be late. He hated how strained relations had been lately, and strove do to the best he could to repair whatever had stalled before it became a far bigger issue. It was obvious that she struggled with something that she held internally and though he was desperate to pry, he knew that it would only do more damage in the long run. Instead, he had turned to helping her in whatever way he could, relieving the burden that work placed upon her so that she had more time to herself, to work through whatever had her vexed. Strangely, it appeared to have quite the opposite effect upon her than he had hoped.
His heart sank when he glanced at his watch once again. She had seemed to match his enthusiasm when she had accepted the offer of an early evening meal, yet she was over half an hour late. Calls to her cell went unanswered and there was no response from the line in their hotel room. Humiliation had begun to sink in roughly fifteen minutes into his lone seating. Perhaps she had to work late? If she did, he was sure she would have called.
His cell phone lay silently before him, obscuring the menu he had read cover to cover at least four times in boredom. The candle that flickered at the centre of the table was almost half-spent now, diners who had been seated at approximately the same time beginning to tuck into their desserts. His drink had been consumed long ago and though he continued to tell himself that she would be there, he knew that buying another would be pointless. It all weighed heavily on his heart and he could feel the strain in every muscle that continued to ache after an earlier stretch in the gym.
She would not simply leave him like this...
He dialled her number once again, taking a deep breath as he prepared himself for the inevitable voicemail greeting.
"Where are you?" he asked, fighting hard to keep emotion from his voice. "I can't stay here, so I...guess I'll see you at the hotel."
Silence washed over him and for a moment he became lost in surrealism, disembodied voices fading into nothing around him. He had been stood up before, but never had he expected Jill Valentine to add to those bitter memories.
'Maybe she was upset?' he theorised. 'Maybe she didn't call because she was crying - she wouldn't want you to know.'
"I love you," he added before ending the call and reaching for his wallet. He could not remain a moment longer, not if his theory rang true. The thought of her hiding her tears in darkness, alone without comfort sickened him to the stomach. She cried far too often these days.
"Are you leaving, sir?" asked the waiter as he pulled several bills from his wallet.
"Unfortunately," he sighed, expression grim. "Something came up, I'm sorry."
"No need to apologise," the waiter smiled, accepting the tip graciously. "Enjoy your evening, sir."
He returned immediately to the base, foregoing the option of stopping by the hotel. There was little point; she would not be there. His wounded pride told him not to seek her, to return to their room, watch a movie and have an early night. But the same part of him wanted answers. Anger and worry ran side by side and he did not know which to turn to.
The base was quiet, as it always was after five. The recruits had either retreated to their hotels or made their way to the gym to continue a hard day's training. He knew this because it was exactly what he would have done had he not made other plans...plans that evidently did not quite go as he had hoped they would.
One thing he was sure of was that she had better have one hell of an excuse for missing their date.
He approached the east wing at a slow pace, trying desperately to release the tension he could feel building within. If there was one positive to come out of his sudden cessation of smoking, it was that he had learned to control his anger to an extent he had not been capable of in the past. Two months ago, he would likely have punched a hole clear through the dry wall by now. With an elevated state of agitation brought on by nicotine withdrawal, he had been forced to leash his emotions lest they reduce the base to rubble. The withdrawal continued, but his mood had begun to settle and he found that the techniques he had adopted were equally useful in less volatile situations.
It was not long before he witnessed a sight that threatened to break the leash and stomp all over his improvised anger management strategy. He had not quite known what he truly expected. Perhaps she would be up to the elbows in paperwork? Maybe she was taking her emotions out on a punch bag or jogging away her troubles?
But she was not. A long window opened into a room he had used many times himself for planning; the one room in the base that was always guaranteed to be steeped in the kind of silence that ensured productivity.
He could not see the face of the girl in Kennedy's arms, but he knew that it was Jill. The way her arms hooked beneath his, the angle at which her head was held against his chest; they were actions he had felt on many occasions. Then, they parted, but remained close as he smiled down at her, fingertips brushing against a cheek.
What surprised Chris the most was that it was not anger that surfaced. Whatever it was, it was cold, and it spread through each and every organ until he was sure that they had all failed. She had not missed their date because she was working; she had not missed it because she was crying...she had missed it because she was with Leon.
He turned from the scene before the icy tendrils he dared not name wound too deep. He did not know where he was heading, only that he needed to be far away from them.
Leon did not embrace as Chris did. She sensed awkward hesitance on his part, as though he had little to no experience in comforting a crying woman, but knew that it was the right thing to do. But most of all, she did not fit into his arms the way she did with Chris, did not feel the same comfort. Chris's comfort came from every detail, from the pressure that told her he would never let go to the comforting combination of his body heat and natural scent.
It should not have mattered, but it did. Though she could feel that a weight had lifted from her shoulders, it was not significant. Opening up to Leon had been a good start, but it had not been enough.
"You don't need these," he told her, brushing a few fallen tears from her cheeks. "You need to talk to him, Jill."
"I can't," she breathed, sure of this now. "It's too much."
"He'll understand," he assured her as she took a step back and wiped away the remaining tears herself. "He'll understand because he loves you."
She considered explaining her thought process, explaining everything that her 'loving' boyfriend would simply not be able to live with. But she knew that he would not listen.
"Understanding isn't the problem," she explained. "It's tolerance. It's- Look, what would you do if you were in his position?"
"I'd realise that I wouldn't want to lose a girl like you," he answered without missing a beat. "Not if I felt about you the way Chris does."
It occurred to her that he had a point, but as always she erred on the safe side of pessimism.
"Thank you," she whispered, knowing that arguing her point would lead nowhere. "Thank you for listening."
He smiled and she averted her eyes, feeling the awkwardness begin to set in. His eyes continued to dart to his laptop, perhaps unintentionally but she could tell that he was desperate to resume his conversation with Claire. Of course, she had her own plans that night.
She glanced to the clock on the wall, her heart sinking when it appeared to be an hour too early. Time certainly was dragging today.
"It feels like we've been here for hours," she chuckled in an attempt to bring the conversation back to warmer ground.
Leon followed her eyes and laughed himself, settling down in front of his laptop once again.
"I wouldn't go by that clock if I were you," he told her. "It's slow."
His words pressed her heart further into her stomach and her eyes fell suddenly to her wrist, only to find that she had left her wristwatch in the hotel room.
"W-what time is it?" she stuttered.
"Five-fifty," he answered with a light frown. Evidently, Claire was no longer online. "I've told them to fix it but nobody listens to me round here."
All of a sudden, her blood ran cold. Five-fifty? She was supposed to meet Chris over an hour ago!
"Oh no," she gasped, horrified at herself. She had missed a date, missed the one opportunity for normality to return. A moment to themselves was all they had wanted and now that the opportunity had finally arisen she had blown it. Intention did not matter; it would not ease the tension that would now be at an unbearable level.
"I...have to go," she spluttered, and took off before Leon could call her name.
Her sneakers skidded against the polished floor, but she maintained her balance long enough to make it out onto the stone steps and the sidewalk that lay beyond. A thousand apologies tested meaning in her mind, but it was regret that proved most prominent. At any other time, such an oversight would have caused an argument but little more. She dared not consider what the consequences would be now.
The hotel was quiet when she jogged through its doors, and she hoped and prayed that he had returned to their room. But when she opened the door and stepped inside, she was greeted only by silence and a sight that had not changed since they had left that morning.
A feeling of overwhelming sadness washed over her, and the key card in her hands fell to the floor. She could almost see the breakdown before her eyes, could almost feel him brush past her with far fewer regrets. She barely made it to the edge of the bed before the tears came and the comfort Leon had momentarily provided ebbed away.
Never before had she felt so close to losing a loved one. Never before had she felt so afraid of an impending break-up. But was a break-up truly on the cards?
'Would it be so bad?' her conscience decided to ask. And she could find no fault with its reasoning. She had never factored the feeling of previous lovers into her decisions, partly because she had not truly loved those men. But Chris was another story; he had been her friend before her lover and she would always have his best interests at heart. It only pained her to realise that this time, being without her was in his best interests.
Was her love selfish? She knew that she could live without his love, and that the pain would fade in time, but she did not want to walk away. She wanted to wake up every morning and know that he was there, to be comforted by his touch and words that were often inappropriate but always well-meant. But he wanted so much more; it would never be enough for him.
When the thought of cutting and running occurred to her, she cast it violently aside. She could not think straight, could not separate her thoughts; now was not the time to consider such an irreversible step.
August 19, 2003. 6:00pm. BSAA temporary headquarters, El Paso, Texas.
"Ass," Claire grumbled beneath her breath, pacing the same stretch of carpet she had circled for the past half hour. She could not believe he would have the audacity to leave a conversation without as much as a goodbye. Her teasing could not possibly have affected him; he gave as good as he got.
But enough was enough. If he would not answer her, she would seek him out and ensure that the rest of his evening was nothing short of hell.
Her laptop was carefully tipped into a bag that was then slung over her shoulder and she stepped quickly into the hallway. The purpose of her continued presence in Texas was not entirely due to a desire to reconnect with old friends, but she knew that her official duties would not begin until the BSAA team had moved out and begun what she hoped would be a successful infiltration. Time, until then, was on her side and she was forced to find increasingly desperate ways to entertain herself. Torturing her brother proved nigh on impossible with his busy schedule; Leon, on the other hand, was far too easy and had far too much spare time on his hands.
It was not long until she crossed the path of her brother, and annoyance burned through her veins when he did not register her presence.
"Hey," she called out, and he came to a sudden stop. "Am I invisible today?"
Chris turned apologetically, but suddenly his ignorance was no matter. He was running from something, she could tell from his expression and from the smile that did not appear on his lips as it always did when they spoke.
"Are you okay?" she asked as she touched his arm gently.
"Not really," he admitted. She was a little thrown off by his denial. Chris was always alright, and when he was not he would pretend otherwise. Never before had he willingly revealed weakness.
She did not need to ask for a reason. Judging by the time, his date with Jill had obviously been a disaster. She had not a clue why their relationship had darkened. Perhaps work had finally begun to take its toll?
"Hang in there," she pleaded. "A few more days and this will all be over. You'll both have room to breathe again."
He let out a chuckle that was as ominous as it was disheartening.
"I don't think room is what she needs," he replied sharply. "There wasn't a lot of room between her and Leon the last time I saw them."
"What?" Surely she could not have heard him correctly?
"She never turned up to the restaurant," he explained, spitting out words with much difficulty. "I came back, tried to find her...she was with Leon. She stood me up because she was with him."
She did not believe him. Leon was a friend to them all, there was no way in hell he would do that to Chris. Aside from the betrayal, he was perfectly aware of what Chris was capable of subjecting him to.
"I'm sure it was innocent," she assured him with a smile. "You're overreacting, as usual."
"Maybe it was innocent," he agreed. "But the way he held her sure didn't look innocent."
She felt a tug within her gut, and an inexplicably cold lump rose to her throat. Leon would not do such a thing. Jill would not do such a thing; she knew that she would have one hell of an angry sister to answer to.
"I should have expected it," he spoke sadly, his tone one of lost hope. "She doesn't want to live with me; she obviously doesn't see a future with me. Story of my life, I guess."
"Don't talk like that," she warned him. Though it pained her to witness him so lost and so afraid, it hurt her deeply to see his usually strong resolve falter so easily. All because of one girl. "Leon will flirt with anything that moves, but Jill loves you and she knows better than to fall for that. If, of course, you aren't blowing the whole thing out of proportion as you usually do."
As Jill's friend, she had been privy to details of her brother's relationship that he would never have revealed himself. She could remember her nerves as she had prepared for dates in the early days of their courtship, and the sombre mood that had fallen upon her when a week had passed without any contact between the two. Jill looked at Chris as a love-struck teenager would gaze upon their crush; her feelings were true and no amount of denial could nullify that.
"We hug," she reminded him. "You hug Rebecca and Alejandra, and don't think I didn't see you teasing Hillary the other day. It's all innocent, as was what you saw. But I'll talk to Leon, okay?"
He frowned, obviously not liking the idea, but he did not complain. Leon perhaps did not understand how volatile Chris and Jill's relationship had become, and a well-meaning embrace could be misconstrued as something more.
"It's you she wants to be with, trust me on that one," she smiled. "Now go have a drink or something and sleep this funk off. It doesn't suit you and to be quite honest, it's creeping me the hell out."
He laughed at this and tousled her hair. Intent on ensuring that their conversation would go no further, she thwacked him on the arm and turned away, offering only a blind wave over her shoulder as she sought out the man that had them both in quite a state.
'Depending on how this goes, Jill is next,' she swore to herself.
She was dismayed to find that Leon remained at his laptop when she finally cornered him; the bastard had intentionally disrupted their conversation.
"Real men say goodbye, you know," she shot before he had been given the opportunity to greet her.
"Jesus, Claire," he gasped, jumping in his seat. "You trying to give me a heart attack?"
"Maybe," she chided before allowing her voice to drop to a more serious tone. "I need to talk to you."
Leon looked up from the screen of his laptop, awaiting a question he no doubt expected to be amicable. How wrong he was.
Her brother's worry had triggered something deep within her, something that differed from the usual protectiveness over her closest living relative. No, this was connected to her own feelings in a way she had yet to discern. Somehow, she cared what the answer to his question would be.
"So Jill's a great girl, huh?" she asked, shying away from the root of the problem. Leon simply laughed and pushed down the lid of his laptop so that he could better gaze upon her.
"She is," he agreed, in a move that only served to stoke the unidentified furnace in her gut. Could it be jealousy? "Why? Are you thinking about asking her out? Because if you are, I wholeheartedly support the idea."
She glared at him, deadpan. What was it exactly that she was theoretically jealous of? He laughed but she continued to frown and realised that shooting for the heart of the problem was the only way to go.
"Do you like her?"
This held his attention for sure. She was not required to wait for his words to find her answer; she could see it in the amusement in his eyes.
"As a friend, yes," he told her. "But that's it. She is a good friend but that's all I see her as, I swear."
Had she not known any better, she would have thought something of the insistence in his tone; as though he wanted her to know for sure that he harboured no feelings for their mutual friend.
"Where has this come from?"
She debated revealing to him her brother's concern but realised that it would cause many more problems than it would solve.
"Nowhere," she lied, deciding that it was not a conversation she was willing to fall into at that moment.
The smile that was sent her way added to the discomfort that continued to linger. Nothing had changed, yet somehow she felt differently around him. Scared, perhaps.
"I assume you were looking for something?" Leon asked, sensing that the moment could turn quite awkward if he did not intervene. The uninterested tone he wore could have been intentional; she did not know. He was more difficult to read than one of her brother's reports; not quite a closed book, more a tome from a long lost culture whose language had not yet been deciphered.
"You, actually," she countered with a fabricated indifferent tone of her own. "I'm sick of mooching around here with nothing to do so I thought I'd offer my assistance."
Leon chuckled.
"You've been spying, not mooching around," he reminded her. "Don't deny it; I've seen you."
Her mock of a frown faded; she was so sure she had been discreet.
"Hey, I have gossip that would entertain even your empty mind," she teased. "Come on, I'm bored out of my mind here. If you don't need any help, just talk to me."
He smiled deviously, but caught himself moments later and altered his expression.
"We could talk," he agreed. "I suppose there's something left for us to catch up on."
Claire concealed her smile far better than he had, and faked an expression of mild amusement.
"Well, you never did explain how you got those ridiculously tiny scars…"
August 19, 2003. 7:47pm. Location unknown.
"I don't think that is possible," Mike whispered, cell phone clasped tightly to his ear. "We need to reschedule. I know, but- Listen, you're going to have to compromise your terms if you want this to work. Yes. Yes, I understand. I'm doing the best I can, but security is stepping up. Not yet, the schedule still applies. I'll keep you informed. Okay, thank you."
A sudden whir behind him and the following whizz of the automatic door provoked a short, sharp jump and he had to fight to keep the cell phone within his grip.
"Yes," he spoke into the handset, moisture building beneath his collar. "Honey, I have to go now. I'll call you tomorrow, okay? I love you."
He could not clasp shut the handset any faster and held his posture awkwardly. Sensing movement behind him, he turned to lay eyes on a low-level colleague; a man just like himself.
"The wife," he explained hurriedly. "You won't...tell anyone, will you? I'm still on duty, I-"
"I saw nothing," his colleague laughed. "Don't worry; I've made my fair share of 'illegal' calls."
"Thanks, Donovan," Mike sighed. His nerves were on edge far too often these days. If he was not careful, he may not make it to his overdue period of leave.
"How's she doing?" asked Donovan, delving into his own locker to retrieve his casual attire.
"She's faring well," Mike replied with a smile. "The morning sickness returned for a second round for a little while, but she's feeling much better now."
"Not long to go now, huh? You excited."
Mike grinned widely. Excited did not quite describe how he felt.
"To understate things," he gushed. "The boy can't wait for her to arrive. I think he's more excited than we are."
Donovan laughed the knowing laugh of a man of experience. Truth was that Mike regretted the days he spent analysing dozens of virulent samples in the lab when he should have been at home, painting the nursery and generally waiting on his wife hand a foot. Family came first, but unfortunately money was not easy to come by and this job paid enough to put both of his children through college.
"Have you heard about the envoys?" Donovan asked.
"Yes," was his reply. "Can you believe it? What kind of ass must this guy be? Bastard thinks he's royalty."
The truth was that the so-called Major's pretentious behaviour had irritated every individual aware of his impending arrival. It was clear that he was a man who valued his status, and Mike was willing to bet every cent of his wage packet that money was of equally high importance.
He turned back towards Donovan, preparing to voice his thoughts when a flash of red caught his eye. Donovan's fingernails scraped across the skin of his right wrist, etching painful red welts into his skin. Or at least what was left of his skin. A wet, red band encircled his wrist, raw lesions he had no doubt inflicted with his own fingernails. What troubled Mike the most was that his colleague did not appear to register that which must have been causing him blinding pain.
"Don," he gasped. "What the hell happened?"
Donovan dropped his eyes to the wound and chuckled nervously.
"Guess my eczema is flaring," he winced. "Truth be told, I haven't been feeling so hot today."
Mike frowned, hoping that whatever he had contracted was not contagious. With the arrival of the Major in two days' time, they could not afford to have any setbacks. Anything that could be construed as suspicious would likely not end well.
Once again, nerves threatened to get the better of him.
August 19, 2003. 9:04pm. BSAA temporary headquarters. El Paso, Texas.
With one final swing, the punchbag trembled precariously. Jill had no idea how old this equipment was, but she was beginning to believe that it posed a minor health and safety risk.
"Damn, girl," Tessa laughed. "Go easy, there may be others planning to use that thing."
Despite the lack of energy and of emotion that remained in her body, she found that a smile was not yet an impossible feat. Tessa grinned through amusement, arms folded across her chest.
Though not as friendly and eager as Hillary, Tessa had proven to be an equally valuable comrade. Though her background was unclear save for a spell as an intelligence analyst for the US Army, she was undeniably one of the more skilled members of the team. It seemed a shame somehow that she had chosen to join the BSAA as a medical officer, putting to use the years of medical school she had previously abandoned for a career in the armed forces. Though she had asked, Jill still did not know of her reasoning.
Raven-haired, tanned and with eyes a shade of two from Chris's natural blue, she had not failed in drawing the attention of the male members of the team, more so than the younger members. Perhaps it was the magic of a woman in her thirties?
'Two years to wait,' Jill told herself. 'Then you'll know what it's all about.'
But was growing older truly a blessing? Most of her twenties had been stolen from her; with the rate at which the search for Wesker and Spencer was going, her thirties looked to go much the same way.
'Luckily you have nothing to look forward to,' she grumbled inwardly.
"Okay, I'm going to hit the showers," Tessa announced as she peeled off her gloves. "If I stay here any longer you're going to make me feel inadequate."
Jill laughed as she was slapped amicably on the shoulder and reached to wring her comrade's hand.
"Looks like you're going to need some alone time, anyway," Tessa hummed as she left.
Unsure of what she meant, Jill turned towards the exit, and found that her smile widened until she was sure that her cheeks would split.
"Hey, stranger," a pleasantly familiar accented voice purred.
She wasted no time in stepping across the exercise mats, wrapping her arms around her friend's muscular figure the moment she drew close enough.
"Carlos," she gasped, squeezing perhaps a little too tightly. "What the hell are you doing here?"
In the days that followed the fall of Umbrella, Carlos had joined Barry in the denial of a place in the BSAA. His decision surprised Jill more than anything at the time; she was so sure that he of all people would join them. But he had walked away, had retreated to South America for a well-earned break. Last she heard he was working for an NGO in a similar capacity to the younger Redfield sibling.
"You didn't hear?" he laughed. "They brought me in as a consultant."
She was confused but chose not to press the matter.
"It's good to see you," she told him. "It's been far too long."
"Tell me about it," he agreed joyfully. "You look good, Valentine. Hot as hell. You still with Chris?"
She pushed him away with a groan and sarcastic roll of the eyes. Some people never changed.
"Yeah, forget what I said," he groaned. "I saw what you did to that punch bag."
And suddenly, happiness faded as reality returned to the moment. Her reasons for seeking refuge in the gym, the explanation for her befuddled mind; it all added up to turn a pleasant reunion into an awkward meeting.
"So, a consultant?" she asked, purely to throw him off any scent of something not quite right. "How does that work?"
He followed as she returned to an over-polished bench, peeling off her gloves before extracting a bottle of water from her bag. Moisture beaded on the bottle, the cool touch of the plastic soothing to her overworked hands.
"To be honest, I don't think they know what they are dealing with here," he admitted, stating the obvious. "They have a lot of Intel pertaining to the leader of this smuggling ring, but I don't think they're having any luck at all in understanding its meaning. All they know is that he is likely an ex-Umbrella employee who spent time in Raccoon prior to its destruction. So, they brought in the only ex-Umbrella employee they know to have worked in Raccoon - albeit briefly. To be honest, I think I was a suspect at first."
Though his suspicion horrified her, she admittedly was not surprised. As soon as the story of Umbrella's suspected involvement in the Raccoon City incident broke, many employees began to defect. But many remained, and many remained loyal to the company that signed their pay checks. The UBCS was notorious for the employment of disgraced armed forces personnel, criminals and mercenaries of dubious loyalty, and she could not deny that circumstantial evidence made Carlos a likely contender for the BSAA's current number three enemy. Thankfully, several solid alibis had proven his innocence and, she assumed, led to the realisation of his usefulness.
"They have a lot of cock-ups to make up for," she surmised. "Can't blame them for being overly suspicious."
"I suppose not," he hummed in agreement. "I don't know exactly what they expect me to do."
"What are your thoughts?" she asked, curious at least about this. The promise of an avenue to Wesker was far too tempting to ignore. "Who do you think this leader guy is?"
Carlos paused for a moment, deep in thought.
"Probably a doctor," he guessed. "Someone who was evacuated before the infection got out of hand. It's unlikely they are ex-UBCS; not many survived and those who did ran with their tails between their legs. There was a lot of illegal research going on at Raccoon General and I honestly would not be surprised if this scumbag was involved."
She shuddered at the mere reminder of the night he had wandered the halls of the hospital. While he had been racing to find a cure, she had been praying for death. She could never leave that long hour behind, not even now.
"Umbrella evacuated their high-level employees as soon as the outbreak was detected," he continued. "The vast majority of them retreated to Spencer's employ and a select few to the Caucasus facility. It could be a megalomaniacal researcher, could even be a power-hungry civilian. Hell, it could be anyone."
He seemed disgruntled, perhaps at the fact that he had been dragged into a mess that was not his to clean. Violence was likely to ensue and he had made the decision to turn from blood and gunfire the moment he refused to join the BSAA. He had wielded his first firearm before he had reached his teens, and now that he was twenty-six, he held the hope that he would never have to kill again.
Deep down, he was a pacifist, but knew that war was an inevitable by-product of modern times. No dispute could be resolved without casualty, and he accepted that. He played his part and prayed for a day when it would all be unnecessary.
Jill wished that she could look at the world in the same way. But all she saw was corruption and greed; a world built on fear. It was clear that one person could not make a difference, but as long as she tried she knew that maybe some day someone would learn what it meant to live without fear.
"I probably shouldn't stay long," Carlos mumbled, eyelids drooping as he watched her dab at her damp neck with a towel, wincing a little from aches that were no doubt self-inflicted. "I haven't been sleeping well and flying tends to throw my body all to whack."
"Are you staying at the Regent?" she asked.
"No," he replied with a shake of the head. "It was fully booked by the time they roped me in. I'm staying a little way into town. But I'll walk you back if you want?"
"Sure."
How could she refuse? The opportunity to so much as speak to old friends did not arise often these days. Though she felt that the short journey would be spent in silence, she accepted that an extra few minutes in his company would do no harm. The strenuous exercise she had subjected herself to left her in need of a shower, but she had neither the patience nor energy to seek out the shower room; she could always wash up at the hotel.
"So how have you been?" he asked once her bag had been heaved onto her shoulder and their short journey had begun.
"Frazzled," she sighed. "You know how pilot missions are; chaotic and generally designed to sap your will to live."
He hummed quietly to himself.
"Funny," he chuckled. "I always thought you would enjoy something like this."
As did she. But she had never anticipated stepping into a position of such responsibility, let alone step into it with a relationship that she barely felt able to hold together. Add the pressure of her medical and the maelstrom of nonsense that her thoughts had become lately, and she was left with a period of time that she would much rather be over already.
"Dreams have a funny way of shattering," she lamented.
"Jill-"
"This is me," she interrupted, looking up towards the sky and the high rise blocks of her hotel. "It was nice to see you again."
"Yeah..." he mused thoughtfully. "You have my number. Call me, alright?"
She assured him that she would and left before he could question her sudden shift in tone. She had talked enough for one day; all she wanted was to shower, curl up between the sheets and forget all that the day had subjected her to. One thing was for sure; it had been the longest twenty-four hours she had ever endured.
The lights were out in her room when she returned, but the curtains remained open and moonlight spilled onto the bed. Soft snores drifted towards her and she was once again endowed with the unwelcome companionship of sorrow. Treading carefully, she moved to the sofa and deposited her bag, reaching for her pyjamas before she began to strip. Running water would wake him, and her guilt slept with him.
Still, rather than pull out the sofa bed she returned to him, slipping beneath the covers to bask in his stifling warmth.
On many occasions she had contemplated what her future held, what she wanted in her life when Umbrella were destroyed and Spencer and Wesker brought to justice. Prior to the conception of the BSAA she had always thought that she would step back into law enforcement, start dating again, fall in love and raise a family that would never know fear the way she did. But then she had opened her heart to Chris, and suddenly her priorities shifted. A long list of wants and needs was whittled down into one certainty: him. Lying at his side, watching him sleep in blissful ignorance, she knew that she wanted to wake to him every morning, to fall asleep at his side and spend the rest of her life loving him. It was corny and quite often she hated herself for harbouring such soppy thoughts, but it was the truth.
She wiggled closer to his sleeping form and reached out to touch his warm skin. Her fingertips burned upon contact and he shifted in peaceful slumber but ultimately did not wake.
Whatever her future held, it meant nothing if she did not share it with him. Marriage, children, inevitable retirement; she knew that he wanted it also. He would make such a wonderful father, and she would become the doting wife she had sworn she would never resign herself to.
But it was a fable. They lived in a world where nightmares were the norm, and dreams were waking up in the morning to find that the world had not dropped another rung into darkness.
'The world or your world?' she asked herself.
A tear slipped free, sliding down her cheek until it spilled against the pillowcase. Her world seemed to be falling apart before her eyes and there wasn't a damn thing she could do, because the damage had already been dealt.
"I love you," she whispered as her fingers brushed against the smooth skin of his cheek. She leaned forward then, pressing her lips gently against his. She felt the warmth throughout her entire body, but guilt flared with all that was positive.
There was nothing in her future for him, she knew that for certain. Through a lens of realism she could see that all he wanted was just not possible. She did not know what her future held, but she could see that it looked bleak. Sure, all was well now, but one day...one day her luck would run out and he would be left with nothing but wasted years and nothing to show for them.
The tears came forcefully now. She hated crying, hated how weak it made her feel, how vulnerable she would appear with moisture in her eyes.
Chris slept on, oblivious to her weakness. He looked so handsome in the moonlight, all signs of wasted youth erased. She remembered how he would complain of growing old, how he would smile and pretend that he was content with what he had when they both knew that he wanted so much more than the life they had been given. But they were dedicated, not only to each other, but to the preservation of freedom and hope. Perhaps one day they would fight for themselves, perhaps one day they would even fight for each other. Until then, she would live with uncertainty. Because the part of her that did not scream for a clean break clung desperately to him. She did not want to lose him.
"I'm so confused," she told him in a low whisper. "I want to be enough for you, I really do."
She could barely even choke out the words and embarrassment turned now to herself. If the others could see her now...
Suddenly, his eyes fluttered open, catching hers for a moment before they closed wearily once again. Her heart must have skipped a beat, and her lungs burned with the breath she withheld. Was he awake?
His limbs were lethargic in their movements, but his arms wound around her, pulling her close to the heat that threatened to suffocate. Deep snuffles and a delirious sigh told her that he was not awake, but neither was he asleep. Somewhere between the two states, he would wake in the morning and believe this to be a dream. But she settled into his arms, ignoring the uncomfortable position that he now had her pinned in. She was sure that in his sleep he believed her to be a pillow that could be bent any which way and squeezed almost to bursting point. It was endearing, but also deeply saddening.
A smile seemed to haunt his lips, and breath once again caught in her throat.
"I love you," she repeated tearfully as she finally settled down to sleep. "And I am so sorry."
AN - Please review :)