AN - Wow, I honestly didn't think I would get this chapter up before the weekend was over. This chapter was quite strange to write. At one point, the plan slipped and I just kept writing what felt right and I came out with what I think is probably my favourite scene so far. Unfortunately, that meant that I had to rearrange this chapter and next, swapping a few scenes to make it work better. But it does mean that a certain something was brought forward a chapter. Well, half of a certain something ;). I hope I did it justice.
Please let me know how I'm doing with the pacing so far. I am thinking forward to the mission and I was starting to worry that it was dragging on a little. Chapter title is from a song by Paul Simon.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter: Ninja-Gnome, Ivilith, Razial, tek, xSummonerYunax, Kenshin13, Chaed, Sparkle Valentine and xwittychickx. And a big hello to all my new readers. I was astounded by how much the hits/visitors for this story went up last chapter. Don't be shy, drop a line ;).
Blindside
Chapter Four - Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover
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"Him that I love, I wish to be free - even from me."
~Anne Morrow Lindbergh~
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August 21, 2003. 11:23am. BSAA temporary headquarters, El Paso, Texas.
She was not reading it correctly. That had to be it. There was no other explanation that made sense. Some idiot in administration had crossed their lines and pencilled her name in the wrong group.
C. Redfield.
She glared at the signature. He could not have checked the roster correctly, would not have signed off on such an important arrangement had he been aware of this colossal mistake.
"It doesn't matter," Leon assured her with an indifferent shrug.
"Yes it does!" she insisted through gritted teeth. "I train with Alpha and I train with him, now I'm training without him in both sessions. Are we supposed to play it by ear when we're out there?"
"Isn't that what you usually do?" he laughed, but silenced himself when she did not find his words amusing. "Jill, it's nothing. You've worked with him for seven years; you don't need to train with him."
"That's not the point," she fumed. "This is deliberate. He switched my place with Donny's; you are in the same group as him still!"
"Donny is a rookie in most respects," he pointed out. "Our group is more intensive. You know how to handle yourself, he doesn't."
"Stop making excuses for him, Leon," she snarled, ripping the note from the board. He offered no more of his wise words, choosing only to sigh at the realisation that there was simply no getting through to her.
"Don't take your anger out on me," he warned. "Go back to the hotel, Jill. I don't want your help when you're like this."
She tried to protest but he walked away, leaving her to fester in her own foul presence. It was difficult to keep company these days; even Chris had begun to avoid her. Was that why he had moved her to another group? She would not deny that she was easily riled in current days, but that was no excuse for wilful ignorance.
"Where is he?" she growled as someone brushed past her, reaching to grip the front of the stranger's BSAA-issue shirt.
As it transpired, it was Donny Miller that she had apprehended, and whatever animosity she felt towards her wayward partner suddenly transferred to the rookie. Twenty-three years old, he was barely out of service with the US Army, so affected by what he had witnessed on his first tour that he had requested a transfer to the hopefully less violent BSAA. Prior to his application, he never anticipated just how dangerous Jill Valentine's bad side could be, and how easy it was to get on it these days.
"W-where's w-w-who?" he stuttered, the breath he had held stolen the moment she had halted his steps.
"Redfield," she growled, waving the now-crumpled sheet of paper before his eyes. He squinted for a moment, reading the words that had been scrawled onto the sheet. Jill could not help but notice that he appeared even more mouse-like when pulling this specific expression.
"W-when did they switch us?" he asked, perhaps to the detriment of his safety. "Uh, Redfield? He, um...that way?"
She dropped him immediately, and followed his direction down the left-hand hallway, heavy footsteps echoing off the walls of the old building. She was not entirely sure of what she intended to do to Chris, knowing only that she was furious and would make sure that he knew. If he could no longer stomach being around her then he should at least have the decency to tell it to her face.
She found him in the third room on the right; a luckily otherwise unoccupied office it was clear he had begun to make his safe haven. He had conveniently adopted the habit of rising before she did every morning, and due to conflicting schedules, shared lunch was an impossibility. It all added up to pile onto her anger, and there was little need for her to force hostility when she confronted him.
"What the hell is this?" she demanded.
Chris jumped at the sudden, boisterous intrusion but she did not miss the fall in his expression when he laid eyes on the roster.
"It's the new list," he explained, risking world war three with his nonchalant tone.
Jill could not believe what she was hearing. There was no attempt to explain himself, not even an apology.
"Look at this!" she snarled, holding his own script where he could not miss the names he had etched onto the paper. "Redfield, Kennedy, Jones, Connolly, Miller. You switched my place!"
"Do you wonder why?" he asked as he snatched the paper from her hand, perhaps afraid of what she intended to do with it. She had threatened to shove many things where the sun didn't shine, but this was the first time he had feared the threat may be followed through. "I don't know what problem you have with me, but until you calm down we can't work together like this. Besides, our schedules cohere better this way."
"Problem?" She growled. "Problem?" It did not occur to her that venting her anger at that moment only served to prove his point.
Why was she so angry? He had accepted her heartfelt apology for missing their date, and had met her hostility with the love he would show when she was not so volatile. Perhaps her reasoning lay here? When she pushed, he would push back and suddenly she would see the foolishness of her actions. She would have preferred to be met with the infamous Redfield temper, for the situation to escalate to the point where-
To what point exactly?
"We need to talk, Jill," he spoke calmly, irritating her further. "Not now...I don't want to face this mission in the fallout, but we need to talk."
And then her heart sank into the pit of her stomach; he expected fallout, and he expected it to be negative enough to impact on their work. Surely this meant the worst?
'Shouldn't you be happy?' spoke a tiny voice in the back of her mind. 'You've been pushing him away, and now he is ready to walk. You should be ecstatic.'
But she did not want him to walk away...she did not know what she wanted, and until she did she knew that she would continue to play games with both their hearts. It was not fair, but in her confusion it was the only way she knew how to act. She had never before dealt with fear linked to her emotions. Why did opening up to him terrify her? The doctor's words had provoked many important thoughts, each and every one of which involved him. Yet she could not bring herself to accept these thoughts, let alone discuss how she felt with him. And she could not for the life of her think why.
"Don't change the subject," she threatened.
"Well one of us has to!" he roared. Finally, he offered something that she could use. "I understand that there are some things you don't want to talk about, and I respect that. But you have some decisions to make if we are going to last as a couple. What do you see in our future, Jill?"
And with that, her heart broke. All she knew to do was push, but she was too afraid to see him go. It was clear that he loved her, that she meant a hell of a lot to him. But the secret she harboured would break either deals or hearts, possibly both. It was a double-headed serpent, ready to strike from whichever end she presented it. He would leave her for sure; one way or another, they would be apart.
So she chose to answer with honesty. He had asked what she saw in their future, not what she wanted to see.
"Not you," she whispered, her voice barely carrying her words. But he had heard them, and the emotion that fell into his eyes forced her to turn away.
All of a sudden, her resolve failed. Anger was far from her reach, and spoken words held too much regret for her to resolve.
After all, the truth often hurt far more than lies.
Leon felt as though he had been ambushed. What had been construed as a brief meeting with his superior had seen him brought before a whole panel of representatives; the first time he had seen them all together since planning began. He had begun to doubt their existence.
"Take a seat," the foremost member urged, signalling to a lone chair before the gathering. Strangely, he felt as though he were on trial.
He struggled to remember the names of the individuals before him; aside from his direct supervisor, he rarely had opportunity to meet any other high-seated members of the government. Aside from that, the UN, WHO and CDC also had representatives present; his work had yet to bring him in contact with the latter two and positions within the former had altered a little since his last dealings with them.
"Troubling news has come to our attention today," Gregor informed him, a freshly-grown beard bouncing beneath his chin as he spoke. "Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine."
Leon groaned quietly, though his reaction was evidently overheard.
"I take it that these rumours are true?" Gregor asked, though his tone suggested that the question was rhetorical. "Their relationship is currently tolerated as they have given us no reason to believe that it will interfere with their work ethic. However, rumours of fighting are a cause for concern."
"And you want me to vouch for them?" Leon sighed. "Sir, Redfield and Valentine are both valued members of the BSAA. You have seen their track record in prior positions; there are no two people better suited for this job. At times, relations between the two can become volatile, but that goes regardless of any romantic attachment. I've known them both long enough to know that their performance will not suffer because of this."
Gregor eyed him curiously, glancing to the men at his sides before coughing into a closed fist.
"Our immediate response would usually be to remove them from the mission and send them both for assessment," Gregor explained. "However, we recognise that this mission has a doubled chance of success with their involvement and we cannot afford any more setbacks. As an experienced acquaintance of the parties involved, and a trusted agent, your word will be taken but I will warn you now that you place your word on your job, Agent Kennedy."
Leon swallowed, every hair rising on his arms. He understood that arguments were part of how they both worked. It was the meeting of two passionate and dedicated minds; when mixing chemicals you are bound to have a reaction. But this time it was different. Until Jill opened up and admitted her feelings, the tension would only escalate. They were both as stubborn as each other, and this no longer acted as a positive.
"I understand, sir," he accepted. He would talk to her, and make her understand that he would hold her personally responsible if he lost his job.
"Very well," Gregor sighed. "You are dismissed."
It was not without dismay that he stood to leave. Never before had he been asked to vouch for a friend at the risk of his job. Normally, he would have refused. After all, their problems were nothing to do with him and they should know better than to allow personal issues to interfere with professionalism.
"One more thing, Scott," spoke the UN representative the moment his hand touched the cold steel of the door handle.
"Leon," he corrected automatically, horrifying himself with the lack of formality that seeped from his tongue.
"Apologies, Leon," the man corrected. "You should know that both Redfield and Valentine are under assessment, not only for their future position within the BSAA. This was ordered prior to recent events, but their performance in relation to each other will be assessed. At the end of the assignment it will be judged whether or not their personal relationship is inappropriate so far as active duty is concerned. You may wish to inform them of this...off the record."
Leon recognised the man as the higher representative during the meetings that gave the inception of the BSAA the green light. Though he could not recall his name, this man had stood by the original eleven with unswerving support. His backing ensured that serious attention was diverted their way and the support that was needed was ultimately received.
The others glanced nervously to their desks, with the exception of Gregor's usual poker face; he could tell that Chris and Jill had their support already, barring any major screw-ups. It was nice to know that they had friends in high places. Then again, he had yet to meet an individual who had shown adversity to the two; at least, anyone on their side.
"Thank you, sir," he accepted, and left before any further issue was made.
The mind truly boggled. Had he not known Chris and Jill on such a personal level, their popularity would have infuriated them. It took little more than their names on the idea of the BSAA to garner interest in the endeavour; their reputations preceded them, despite the fact that the vast majority of their work had been carried out off the radar, so to speak. They deserved every ounce of respect that was awarded to them, but he often wished that they would not spend so much time acting like damn children.
Was his reaction appropriate? He considered this as he continued through the empty hallways, toying with alternate possibilities. It was the best course of action for the team; the departure of the two senior most agents would have a devastating effect on morale. Aside from that, the mission would likely not recover from a loss so important. Where would they find two agents well enough equipped to take on their role with such short notice? Many of them felt that the mission was doomed to failure to begin with.
'You need to talk to Chris,' he told himself. 'Jill won't listen.'
Because the fact of the matter was that he had begun to worry. The mission was not all that appeared to be at stake. Jill was an intelligent girl, she knew how to take care of herself, but her defences appeared to have stalled this time. She was confused, and sadly it was not an issue he felt equipped to deal with.
As luck would have it, the familiar form of Chris Redfield turned into the corridor ahead of him. Perhaps this endeavour would be easier than he thought.
"Chris!" he called out, failing to register warning signs that played like the call of a rattlesnake. "I need to talk to you."
He was answered only with a glare, but still he failed to heed the warning. Something had riled the older man, and the first hard lesson he had learned upon joining the Raccoon survivors was that attempting to engage an angry Redfield in conversation was about as safe as poking a sleeping lion in the eye.
But still, he reached out for an arm as he passed, closing fingers around a surprisingly muscular forearm.
It was then that the lion snapped. In an instant, his back was against the wall, a closed fist holding his T-shirt beneath his chin. As if by instinct, Leon threw up his arms, declaring surrender before a threat was offered.
"Back off," growled Chris.
From this angle, the three inches the veteran S.T.A.R.S. officer had on him were strikingly evident, as was the strength hidden by deceptively small muscles in proportion. There was no possible way that he could wiggle out of the hold, not without choking himself on a bruised fist.
"Calm down," he advised, startled by how calm his own voice appeared. While he had not yet witnessed Chris's anger cranked up to ten, he had bore the brunt of Claire's once in the past and often wondered just how he had walked away from her with every limb still attached.
But behind the carnal rage that burned in the blue irises of his captor, Leon could see that it was not anger that drove him to violence. Though he called himself presumptuous, there was a distinct glint of something woeful, something that anger had been brought forth to disguise. Then it hit him.
'She told him,' he realised, heart sinking fast. It was the only explanation; she had opened up and he had reacted just as she had feared he would. With this in mind, he was forced to fight the urge to lash out, to condemn his friend for his selfishness. He hated to think of what state she must have been in; torn up while he stormed around the base feeling sorry for himself, angry at what he had lost. Leon felt that he ought to knock some sense into the man, to teach him what was important.
'Perhaps it's Claire?' Chris had always been suspicious of his intentions with his younger sister, had even given him the 'if you hurt her, I will kill you' lecture the day they were introduced. He was so sure that he had succeeded in persuading him that he held no such intentions.
But did he? Even he was not sure anymore.
"Stay the hell away from her," Chris warned, drawing close to utter the threat before finally releasing his grip and continuing on his journey, sure of the fact that he would not be followed.
Leon remained in shock, straightening his T-shirt with trembling hands. Stay away from her?
That was one thing he could not do.
August 21, 2003. 5:00pm. BSAA temporary headquarters, El Paso, Texas.
Chris had always preferred the familiarity of anger. It was pure, unrelenting and accepted no compromise; he could deal with that. He embraced anger, allowed it to flow through his veins while he drew strength from its power, waiting for it to disperse and hoping that the casualties remained minimal.
Pain was another matter completely. Physical pain was no trouble; he had dealt with enough of it in his time to develop a respectable tolerance. But physical pain could be cured. It was emotional, psychological pain that crippled him, that tore him apart one strip of flesh at a time. There was no escaping this dimension of pain, no cure for infliction.
He had little experience in dealing with emotional pain, having been too afraid to open his heart enough to expose it to such a hazard. Too many relationships had wounded him. In the end, relationships without attachment were all that he could tolerate. One night stands and an exaggerated reputation meant that women only sought him for one thing, and he was happy with this arrangement; what man would not be? Countless beautiful, vapid women were willing to not commit with him. And then Jill had entered his life. This one woman, so strong and self-confident; so beautiful and yet so dangerous. Their friendship had blossomed from a bed of arguments, and soon she had soared past the male friends he had gathered over the years to the vacant position of best friend. She had supported him through two failed relationships before he recognised that his feelings for her had surpassed mere friendship.
Because the unthinkable had happened; Chris Redfield had fallen in love. He had not reacted, had kept it a well-guarded secret and tried to shun the attraction to the woman who plagued his thoughts night and day. But as fate would have it, rather than guard his heart from the pain it only exposed him to more.
But his thoughts always drifted to wise words from his father, words he had thought absurd at the time.
"If it doesn't hurt, son, it isn't love. You'll want to let go but you can't. It's rough going, but once you make peace with it you'll find something wonderful."
Of course, he was only eleven years old at the time and emerging from what he had assumed at the time to be a broken heart. His father had known that it was a simple childhood crush, but had frightened the poor boy with his admittedly accurate description of what he had eventually found with Jill.
Many hours had passed since their last 'conversation', and too much of that time had been spent feeling sorry for himself. It mattered not if Jill's words were true or if she had been lying; he would fight, and he would not give up. His mother had always told him to fight for what he believed in and for what he desired. He had spent far too many years just watching things slip through his fingers. He would not let the one perfect thing in his life drift away.
He found her alone in the cafeteria, exactly where he had expected her to be. She picked at her salad, evidently not impressed with what she had been served. Deep in thought, she rested her chin on one hand and frowned lightly at a single leaf of lettuce that dangled from her fork. Nerves seized him, but he cast them aside. He was finally calm, resolute and he would not leave until he was certain of where they stood.
She jumped when he spoke her name, falling into the chair opposite hers. Her reaction at least satisfied some part of him; afraid, guilt-ridden and a little lost.
"Jill, I need to talk to you," he spoke, hoping that his voice was not the plea he assumed it to be. "You don't have to say anything; I just want you to hear me out."
He reached across the table for her hands, pleased to find that she did not pull them from his light grip. Her reply was a simple nod, her bottom lip drawn between her teeth as she fought to look him in the eye.
It was here that he noticed the first difference; she was rarely quick to drop anger, yet here she was, as nervous as she had been in days of late. He did not know whether to worry or to rejoice, but found that concern came naturally.
Strange, it seemed that his voice was not capable of speaking the words he had rehearsed.
"I love you," he told her quietly. It was doubtlessly better to get the most important point out into the open first. "Nothing will ever change that. I know that something has upset you and I do want to help you, but I respect that you want to deal with this alone. But I will not walk away from us, Jill. I know that is what you are searching for, but I will fight to the bitter end for you and that is what I intend to do."
Something faltered in her expression, but her eyelids swooped down and when her blue irises were revealed a moment later, there were once again too many emotions for him to discern just one. But her hands slid from beneath his and she rested her weight on the back of the cheap plastic chair, unshed tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.
"Every man would leave his girl for something," she breathed. "What would your reason be?"
He was shocked by her question but had told himself before seeking her out that he would answer all that she asked honestly.
"I don't know," he admitted. "Infidelity, perhaps. Mind games. But I don't know anymore. Everything is so different with you; I'm willing to take a lot more than I should."
"What if I told you that I don't ever want to live with you?" she asked, playing on an existing fear. "What if I told you that I don't want to marry or have children? What if what we have now is all you will ever get? What if I can't guarantee it will last, or that I will always be here? Would that be enough for you? Would you gamble your life on something so uncertain?"
One by one, she had shot down all that he had seen in their future. The house they bought with hard-earned money, gone. The wedding he would spend every cent of their remaining money on, gone. The children they would raise lovingly, gone. Jill, gone.
What if her point was not hypothetical? What if there was nothing in their future but each other? He wanted a family, he wanted a future. But he also wanted her. It was a simple case of which he desired most.
"Yes," he answered, allowing his heart to take this one. "For any other girl, probably not. But for you...always."
And then they fell, tears that soaked through her napkin in a matter of seconds. Unwanted attention drifted from nearby tables, but he could not find it in him to care. He reached up for all that was available to touch, gripping her upper arms reassuringly. She would not move to allow an embrace, or to accept the comfort he was ready, willing and able to offer.
"Chris, I'm sorry," she sobbed, reaching at last for his hand. Ultimately, he feared the worst. Why did she apologise? Why did she cry?
"I want all that," she whispered longingly. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault..."
And suddenly, everything clicked into place. A problem that was her doing, a shattered future, the search for a reason to break up... She did not want to leave him, but her constant pushing seemed to be designed to force him into packing his bags. It was guilt, that was the only reasonable explanation for her actions.
"Is there someone else?" he asked. His heart broke even with the suggestion of the idea. It had been his initial belief, though now it did not seem so absurd.
"What?" she gasped as she pulled back in disgust.
It all made perfect sense. She had fallen for someone else, and her medical had revealed a secret that pained her to keep. Pregnancy, perhaps? The though almost killed him. They had always been careful, had used condoms more often than not. If she was pregnant, it made sense that he was not the father, and perhaps she too knew this.
"How could you-" her words were choked away by a vehement sob. "How dare you!"
Her rebuttal was doubtlessly genuine, yet it was the only reason that made sense to him.
"I saw you with Leon," he revealed, still not sure of what exactly he had seen.
"What?" she spluttered. Her expression then fell as the memory returned. "Oh God, that was innocent! He's a friend, that's all."
"Then maybe you should stop working with him," he suggested, jealousy seizing control. It was perhaps a small consolation that he could no longer feel his heart rotting within his chest. Superficial emotions were quite often childish, but always the easier option.
"Don't put our relationship above work," she snarled. "That is my one reason!"
'You know you're wrong. What happened to fighting for her? Drop it, you're doing yourself no favours.'
"Is this why you've been acting like a complete dick around him?" she asked, voice simmering down but still close to emotional overflow. "Don't take you anger with me out on our friend!"
"My anger?" he fought back. "You still haven't answered my question."
All of the calm he had gathered over the hours apart evaporated, and suddenly he was a picture far different than that painted by his earlier words. In one swift motion, she was on her feet, jacket slung over her arm.
"No, Chris," she pressed, a sliver of hurt evident in her words. "I am not having sex with Leon, or with anyone else. And guess what? That includes you for the time being. If you would just open your eyes you would see that he likes Claire, not me."
As she walked away, he reeled from her words. There were too many blows dealt, how could he possibly make sense of any of them?
It was his one chance, his last chance to prove to her... What, exactly? What had he hoped to prove? All he had succeeded in proving was that he was an ass. A few words and he now owed a thousand apologies...not all of them to Jill.
"Are you okay?" Claire asked, snapping him from his reverie.
"Uh...yeah," he mumbled, blushing a little as he realised his gaze had been upon her lips for at least the last five minutes. There was too much on his mind for him to allow it to wander.
"Leon," she warned. "Honesty?"
He frowned, not particularly wishing to divulge the events of that day. Chris was struggling through a battle as it was, there was no need for it to escalate into an outright war.
"I just...had the strangest day," he laughed, musing over all that he still could not quite understand.
"Tell me about it," she groaned, thankfully dropping her concern. "I spent most of the day running through basic set-up with Donny Miller. The guy is clueless, Leon. Either that or he's plain ignorant. Where do you find these people?"
Leon laughed internally. They were all unprepared; she could hardly blame the individual. But they were a motley crew, with the most experienced of agents involved in activities that drew them away from the mission. Jones was perhaps the most experienced and dedicated - with the obvious exception of Chris, Jill and himself - and though Tessa boasted an impressive résumé, her expertise in the field she had opted to be assigned to was somewhat lacking. Then there was Daniel DeChant, a recent transfer from the Marine Corps. That was not even half the team.
"Why were you running through anything with Miller?" he asked, suddenly curious. "Come to think of it, you still haven't explained why you're here."
She smiled secretively, seeming to derive great pleasure in the knowledge that she had succeeded in stealth for once in her life.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased further, to which he raised an eyebrow. "The WHO is interested in this mission, what with all the rumours of viral experimentation. Which is also why the CDC are keeping an eye on the operation, but that is beside the point. They want someone to report back on everything that happens, almost happens or probably shouldn't have happened. So, they contacted Terra Save and asked for me. I suppose it has something to do with my last name. I figured it would give me a chance to see old friends so how could I refuse?"
Her play on the words 'old friends' was suspicious, and at that moment she averted her eyes from his. Was she embarrassed? Of course not; Claire Redfield did not know the meaning of the word.
"I never did congratulate you on your new job," he smiled as he nervously picked at his food. "I'm proud of you. It's good to see that you're moving up in the world."
Her smile was genuine as she accepted his congratulations. Leon was not sure what to make of this, but returned it with one of his own.
"I've been toying with the idea of going back to college," she revealed out of the blue. "I don't have much more to do; I could graduate in a year."
Leon had never heard a better idea fall from her lips. He had known how much college had meant to her when they had first met; it was her one way out of the fostering home of her aunt and uncle and a step closer to the independence she had inevitably gained through more disturbing means.
"You should," he encouraged. "I think that's a great idea."
She nodded gratefully, falling back into awkward silence. Suddenly, the abundance of words he had found to speak to her had vanished, leaving him with a twisted tongue and not a single thought in his head.
Chris's words had brought down an unexpected emotion. It could not quite be described, other than the strong notion that something was unfair and inconveniently hurtful. Chris had always been protective over his younger sister, but Leon had thought himself a trusted friend. Perhaps he had been spending a little too much time with her, but he enjoyed her company immensely and was sure that she returned the sentiment. Why then had he been ordered to avoid her?
He raised his head to allow himself to take in each and every one of her features; from the dark auburn hair that accentuated the pale tone of her skin, to the eyes that could have been her brother's and the lips that bore more similarities to Jill's. She was beautiful, that much he knew. But attractive to him?
His mind drifted then to the less physical aspects of her being, to the heart that loved all it saw and the mind that did not judge as others did. She fought for her beliefs with a vibrant tenacity, and once her mind was set on a task there was no sidetracking her. Claire simply did not work the way others did; she claimed selfishness when her actions screamed the opposite. She would give her life for those she loved without a second thought and though hot-headed, she was one of the kindest individuals he knew.
'Perhaps Chris does have reason to worry?'
He was in no position to consider romantic feelings. His job was his life and he knew that was unlikely to change for a long time. Then there was her.
Though he continuously told himself that she lived, part of him hoped that she had not survived Raccoon City. Had he loved her? Perhaps. But love was a funny emotion, and it could not always be honoured. She was unattainable to him and maybe therein the attraction lay. To him, she was a chain, binding him to the past. No matter how hard he tried to escape her memory, she was there and she haunted him with her smile. A demon in disguise or a star-crossed lover? He doubted that he would ever know.
Claire claimed that she was married to her job, but he was married to a memory.
In retrospect, perhaps Chris' warning had been a Godsend? He was unlucky in love, and all he had to offer was pain and regret.
She deserved more than that.
August 21, 2003. 6:04pm. Location unknown.
Mike was growing increasingly impatient with his employers. Who the hell did this guy think he was? A hypochondriac, no doubt. Why else would he have locked down the base upon arrival? His presence was superfluous; a formality at best.
He should have been home by now, should have been playing with his son for the first time in weeks.
His fingers slid over the cool plastic of the internal phone, and he furiously punched in the external line connection code. Nothing was going to plan, and he did not like the unexpected.
"We apologise, but we are unable to connect your call at this time."
The mechanical voice repeated its assurance, pushing his anger further and further to breaking point. He slammed the handset back into the wall and stormed through the corridors with clenched fists. Someone had a lot to answer to.
The laboratory levels were surprisingly empty that night, though it was to be expected. Many workers had taken ill and found themselves confined to the habitation level. It was one of the many reasons he despised living in such close quarters; if a worker clocked in with the 'flu the whole base would be ill by the end of the week.
"Henderson!" he called out, catching sight of his superior at a security station.
"Norton, I don't have time for this," Henderson sighed, sensing what his words would be. Evidently he had been worked to the bone by this sudden epidemic and the badly-timed arrival of the Major.
"Why the hell can't I get an outside line?" Mike demanded. "My wife was expecting me to be home tonight, and I can't connect or get a damn signal on my cell."
"Simmer down," he was ordered. "Major's orders. This guy is neurotic; has a list of demands to rival a rock star. I guess he has trust issues so we're on complete lockdown for the next seventy-two hours."
Mike was forced to bite his tongue, lest he utter words that would ensure severance. He had yet to meet this important figure yet already harboured a large amount of resentment for the man.
"We're all getting paid a large bonus for this," his superior reminded him. "It's a small inconvenience for a hell of a vacation."
Mike doubted that Henderson was aware of what a 'small inconvenience' was. He had not intended to be on base during the Major's tenure; he knew what was coming and knew that he needed to leave before it arrived.
The security guard at the desk coughed violently, drawing phlegm up his throat before emptying the contents of his mouth into a nearby waste casket. Mike stepped backwards, not wanting to catch what had been going around. His wife was due soon; he did not want to risk missing the birth.
The guard looked a picture of illness; skin paler than the paint on the walls, eyes bloodshot and unfocused. Surely he should not have been working? Then, he fell, tumbling from his chair without a hint of a struggle to remain upright. Henderson fell at his side, shouting for a medic. The man's eyes rolled back into his skull, foam visible at the corner of his mouth.
But then Mike's eyes fell to his arms, to the welts that had been carved into his skin. He had seen them many times before, had watched as his colleagues had literally peeled skin from muscle.
Something was not right, something had begun. Twenty-four hours was all he had, but somehow he knew that he would not see the storm.
August 21, 2003. 7:21pm. El Paso, Texas.
Jill did not like the silence of the hotel room. She was so sure that he would be there, but alas he was not.
'Do you really want to speak to him?' she asked herself. 'He accused you of being unfaithful.'
She could not find it in her to feel anger towards him for this. After all, she had hurt him and perhaps this was his way of retaliating? He was the jealous type, and she knew it. Though he trusted her, sometimes she unintentionally gave him reason not to and she feared that this was one of those occasions.
"For you...always."
His words still echoed in her mind, cranking guilt to unprecedented levels. It terrified her to consider the depths his admission had touched upon, to acknowledge that her own feelings ran as deep and that this was likely the last relationship either of them would enter. Of course, she had known this all along, but had never been presented with proof.
She did not know what she was afraid of, but past experience had led her to be wary.
'But whose feelings am I trying to protect?'
She heard the key card enter the lock before the door opened and he stepped inside, his sheepish expression no doubt mirroring her own. It was not a case of who would apologise, rather a case of who would apologise first.
But neither spoke. Instead, she allowed him to come to her and fell into his arms when he offered a submissive kiss. It was clear that his feelings matched her own, and once again the words reverberated in her mind and tears fell.
All that she had feared was a lie; he did not care about what she could offer, only about her. Her secret had placed an agonising weight on her chest and despite her efforts to the contrary, she did not want to watch as it forced their relationship to fail, especially when it need not be that way. What was there left to do but come clean and hope it was not enough to drive him away?
"I don't think I've ever seen you cry so much," he laughed lightly as he wiped moisture from her cheeks. She knew from this jest that he understood her tears were not entirely of pain. "I wish you didn't have to. I'm sorry for what I said. I know you're not with anybody else and I do trust you."
She smiled appreciatively.
'Tell him,' her heart urged. 'There will never be a moment as perfect as this one.'
"I want to help you," he reiterated. "I hope you know that."
"I love you," she offered as an alternative, but knew that it would not be enough.
He sighed mournfully and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Then what is the problem?" he asked. "I love you and I am happy. I want you to be too."
Suddenly, she could not look at him. Did either of them knew what 'happy' meant anymore? So many words had changed their meaning over the years, more still losing it entirely. Could they ever be happy? Would they ever have more than half a life between them?
"I know it's the medical," he sighed. "I don't know what they said to you but it can't possibly be as bad as you think."
She drew a deep breath, knowing that this was the moment she had been dreading ever since the doctor spoke those words. If he walked out of that room without an answer, she could not say if he would return.
"What you said earlier," she breathed. "Did you mean it?"
He thought for a long moment, perhaps trying to pinpoint a single utterance that she could have been referring to.
"That I could live with uncertainty?" he replied. "Yes. I don't care what happens in my future as long as it involves you. It terrifies me to admit that but it's the truth."
Honesty. He was a terrible liar, and she could not find a single fault in his words.
"But you said that you wanted the same things," he pointed out with a smile, maintaining the distance she had placed between them perhaps out of respect. "We love each other; why not have those things together?"
Again, her breath caught in her throat. She shuddered from a sudden chill and brought her arms to her chest, pacing a small circle until all air was expelled from her lungs and new refused to enter.
Bile rose in her throat, words held down by the pleading child within. Speech had never eluded her. But she could see the happiness in his eyes, the hope that he had found in her previous admission.
As she opened her mouth to speak the words, she was sure she would vomit. Her chest was a cage and she could not find a way to release that which had been so tightly restrained.
'Speak.'
And then, courage appeared for a split-second, but that was all that was needed. Her blood ran cold, throat threatened to close and uncertainty seized the very heart of her. The wound was still too raw, the pain too real. It was admission that shook her, that would bring reality closer than she had allowed it to be. In the midst of the fear, four words materialised and suddenly there was no turning back.
"I can't have children."
AN - Please review :)