AN - I thought this would be the longest chapter yet but damn, I didn't quite make it. I didn't actually check the word count on this one until near the end and was surprised to see how much I'd written. Anyway, this is the last chapter before the mission ^_-. As a result, I experimented with a little something that I hope worked out. The last part of the chapter was quite difficult to write, especially concluding it all. I would also like to apologise on Jill's behalf; I wanted to slap her myself at one point, but I think I've finally brought their relationship to the point where I want it to be right now (if you want to speculate on that, feel free...I'd like to see if I've got it right or totally missed the mark ^_^).
Chapter title is from 'Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner' by Fall Out Boy.
A humongous thank you again goes out to all you wonderful reviewers: Ninja-Gnome, namine redfield, Sparkle Valentine, Razial, katninja, tek, Ivilith, Anonymous, pk123db456, Kenshin13, Keybladem, xSummonerYunax and xwittychickx. I'm trying to get back to as many of you as possible, but time constraints are unfortunately still an issue at the moment. But I will try my best!
Blindside
Chapter Five - You Look So Good in Blue
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"Wear me like a locket around your throat,
I'll weigh you down, I'll watch you choke."
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August 21, 2003. 7:40pm. El Paso, Texas.
"I can't have children."
Her own voice echoed in her ears and she choked on the bitterness of her words. Speaking it aloud seemed so certain, as though she were admitting a horrifying truth. Speaking it aloud in front of Chris pushed the boundaries of emotional tolerance.
She could see the bombshell sink in, could see the pain rise in his eyes. Many unspoken questions lingered on his fallen expression, denial apparent in every word he did not speak.
"I can't ever..." she began, reassuring her point perhaps for her own benefit. But words were stolen from her, her voice catching in her throat as her heart realised the damage it had done and retreated from the domain of control.
She reached a hand to her mouth in an attempt to cover a woeful sob that was drawn from the pit of her stomach. Her admission hit her as a painful reminder. Somehow, she felt less of a woman, less worthy of his affection than she had previously. This dreadful secret had been hers for five years; it was not recent, should not sting like a recently-inflicted wound. But this was the infection, the fallout of a decision she had not anticipated having such dire consequences. She ached for her loss and did not quite know how to express such dark emotions.
Her whole body ached from the pressure that built in her chest; she was so sure that she would collapse. But then warmth found her, and she was held possessively in comfort, little room for air in his close embrace. She found that the tears fell harder now, that her sobs were uncontrolled. Whatever comfort he offered, she took and she felt his reaction in the pressure he applied; he was scared. Though almost painful, his embrace was tender and she could feel words unspoken. He clung to her as though she would slip away if he did not hold on for dear life, so that her arms could not move to reciprocate his embrace.
Why then was she still so afraid of his reaction?
"God, Jill," he breathed into her hair, not once relinquishing his grip. He seemed more determined to hold on to her than she to him, crushing her with strength he often underestimated.
When he pulled back, it was to wipe tears from beneath her eyes; an act that was rendered useless when fresh moisture fell onto his thumb.
"What is it?" he asked quietly, his voice gentle and kind in a way it had never been before. "What did they say?"
She was reluctant to reveal, for she could sense the hurt that her words had inflicted; the news had affected him as much as it had affected her.
But she had come this far, what harm would one step further be?
"The vaccine Carlos gave me in Raccoon…it didn't cure me, it…deactivated the virus or something," she sniffled after a deep breath. "It wasn't a cure…"
And a second wave of pain swept through her. The thought of succumbing to infection once again brought suicidal thoughts to mind. Anything would be better than that hell. And Chris? Could she subject him to a show to rival the most sickening horror movie? The virus reports had toned down the macabre, had not mentioned the most agonising aspects of infection. You did not simply turn, did not suddenly snap to a carnivorous state of mind; you rotted away.
"What?" he demanded sharply, offering reaction when she had all intention of continuing to speak. He was as horrified as she had been when the doctor had broken the news. "You're still infected?"
He grasped her arms suddenly, as though afraid that something horrific would befall her if he let go, as though by asserting his possessiveness he could chase the evil away.
"No," she laughed sombrely, continuing to chase back tears with quiet sniffles. It was a small consolation. "I'm not even a carrier. The virus is still in my system, but it's dormant, it's… They said they haven't seen anything like this before. They spent most of the week analysing my blood, and took a second sample at the check-up. It's…it can't be transferred via blood or saliva or…other bodily fluids; that's the only reason they passed me. They said I'm not an 'immediate danger'. I don't know why, he said something about white blood cells and the virus being 'inactive'. But if I fall pregnant…"
She knew that she needed to continue but did not feel that she could. She would rather have been told that she was infertile, at least then she would have closure. To know that she could conceive but would face a whole new breed of horror if she did…it was nothing short of torture.
"They said the T-virus would bond with the baby's DNA and…" she drifted off, the truth too unbearable to consider. But the words found her and she spoke them before they danced away. "I'd give birth to a tyrant. If I survived the pregnancy…they said it was possible we both would die before the end of the second trimester; at the very least I would not survive childbirth. I'd forfeit my life for a monster."
Suddenly, she was back in his arms, surprised to find that it was not her body that trembled.
"But you're going to be okay, right?" he asked, voice quaking with what she could only describe as fear.
Jill was confused. She had thought that the knowledge he would never be a father if he remained with her would elicit a powerful reaction, but it was the knowledge that a hidden evil lurked beneath her skin that concerned him deeply.
"I don't know," she admitted, voice muffled by his shirt. "They said that due to the nature of the immobilisation it is unlikely that it will resurface, but it remains a possibility. Something could trigger it, something…"
The scent of him suddenly became too much and she could no longer find reason to continue to speak. He had never held her so tightly, so fearfully. Insecurities glared at her from his posture and from his silence, but she did not think any less of him for them. If anything, she thought even more. That he could display them so openly before her spoke volumes.
There was nothing that she could do but cry out the rest of her tears on into his chest and wait for his arms to free her. But deep down, something told her that would never happen.
'He was telling the truth,' she told herself, smiling outwardly at this realisation. 'He cares about you, deeply. You're not the only one to love this much.'
"Did you think that I would leave you because of this?" he asked, finally pulling away, though his arms remained around her. Hurt reflected in his eyes as he considered this, and shame seeped into her heart.
Had she truly believed that he would?
"I don't know," she breathed. "I don't know what I thought. But you want children, Chris, and I can't..."
She knew that feminists the world over would be screaming her name as a curse. Ten years ago, she would have done the same. The idea of giving birth had scared the hell out of her, and she saw no reason why she should have to go through such a level of pain to please a man; if he loved her, he would love her regardless. But as she had grown and relationships had taken on a new dimension she realised that she quite liked the idea of settling down one day with a man who made her happy and children they would raise together. It was something she had always taken for granted; something she assumed would always be there.
She had not realised how important this seemingly simple ability was to her until it was suddenly gone.
"I know how important family is to you, and you...you will never have that with me."
If she had not known better, she would have thought that her words had hurt him, that his expression was one of shock and horror.
"Jill, don't-" he warned, voice breaking. His composure faltered, and he relinquished his hold on her, gently shaking his head as though emotions would detach like droplets of water from his hair. "I'll have you. That is more than I could ever ask for."
He raised his fingers to her hair, pushing tear-stained strands from her cheeks. His lips then found her cheekbone, placing a tender kiss on the damp skin. She could sense how close to tears he had come, and somehow this saddened her more. He had always been there for her, had always gave her what she wanted in abundance and then a little more. Even now, he was here, silently promising her that all would be okay. She could not even promise him a future.
"Is this why you were so insistent on the condom?" he asked.
"Yes," she exhaled. "But not- I guess I was scared that they were wrong. I don't want to hurt you."
"Then stop presuming to know how I feel," he whispered with a smile on his lips. "I love you, Jill Valentine. If you sprouted horns and started speaking in limericks, that would not change."
She laughed at this euphemism, knowing that it was just like him to say something so corny in such a tender moment. But it had worked; the anxiety she had felt just half an hour earlier had evaporated.
"I want children," he told her. "I do, but if I have to lose you for that to be possible, it's far too high a price to pay. If I can't be a father to your children, I don't want to be a father at all. Besides, take a look at me…I'd need your genes to balance all this out."
She snorted involuntarily with laughter, failing to understand that this was his intention; humour appeared to have worked, and so he was sticking with it. She was forced to bury her face in his neck to stifle her giggles, made worse when he pretended to be offended at the apparent hilarity of what he perceived to be truth.
But through it all she felt an overwhelming sense of love and hope. The greatest issue she had with herself was not an issue at all to him.
"I want children, too," she sighed when the laughter subsided, and once again pain began to flare in her chest. "Wanted; past tense."
"You still can," he pointed out. "We can adopt. You would be a great mother, Jill. You would make any child extremely lucky."
Her heart fluttered. 'We'. Not 'you'…'we'. When he looked into her future, he saw himself.
"I always thought it would be wonderful to be pregnant," she sighed. "My aunt told me I was crazy…"
"You are," he laughed, though she could tell at this point that he was playing up the humour to the point of a façade. "You really don't need any more weight on that ass."
And suddenly, amused offence was taken.
"Cheeky!" she scolded, but failed to stifle a quiet laugh. "You've never complained about my ass before."
His lips fell to her neck, teasing the skin gently. Defence mechanism number two: sex.
"Exactly," he purred.
"Chris…" she gasped, pushing him away before he went too far. "Are you truly okay with this? I have to know."
In an instant, everything changed. The mask he had pulled over his pain fell away and exposed the ugliness to the world. Darkness fell back into his eyes and the frown that had previously been of concern melted to anger.
"No, I'm not okay with it," he admitted furiously, surprising her with his honesty. Anxiety rushed back, fear and the overwhelming urge to bawl chasing its heels. "I'm not okay with you feeling like this, I'm not okay with the fact that you're still suffering for their mistakes."
He reached his hands up to her cheeks, making sure that her eyes met his as he spoke.
"I'm not okay with the knowledge that you could wake up one day and be forced to suffer through infection again," he continued, voice softer now, and laden with the sound of tears that he kept from his eyes. "That you could die and there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it. But Jill, if the T-virus consumed you next week I'd be glad that I got to spend this time with you. There may be a cure one day, don't forget that; don't give up hope."
His eyelids swooped downwards, likely as another preventative measure.
"I can't lose you, Jill," he lamented. "I just can't."
And then she knew that his anger had not been directed at her, rather at those that had put her in this position. He had not held her so tightly because he was seeking comfort for his loss; he held her for her comfort, knowing the pain she had felt.
She raised a hand to his cheek, brushing over stubble that had become delightfully familiar. Her thumb gently traced his lips and she witnessed that familiar glaze fall into his eyes.
"You're not going to," she assured him.
How could she have been so stupid as to believe that he would not stand by her?
She was left with no time to dwell on the matter, feeling his lips at last capture hers. Somehow, he tasted different. Then it dawned on her; there was not a hint of tobacco on his tongue. No longer coarse, he tasted clean, fresh…exotic. Something lured her in, forcing her to deepen the kiss so that she could experience all he had to offer. She had barely noticed that he had lifted her onto the bed, hands exploring the skin beneath her BSAA-issue polo.
His stubble was rough against her jaw, raspy friction adding to the plethora of sensations that rained down upon her. He kissed softly down her jaw line and onto her neck, a delightful trail carved by the short hairs on his chin. She could not quite discern what position her body was in, surprised when her back touched gently to the mattress as his lips dipped for her clavicle, continuing their journey as far as the opening in her polo would allow.
And suddenly, there was no doubt, and the confusion that lingered was held at bay by something more tolerable. She did not know what she would do, still did not quite know how to deal with the unpleasant reality and circling confusion. But for now, he offered to lick her wounds, for however long the balm would last. She knew that he could, and found no resistance within her.
For now, nothing else mattered.
Claire had been mulling the information for hours. The lines of communication were somewhat slow between her current position and head office; she was at least twenty-four hours behind on updates.
Her cell phone remained clasped beneath her chin, lips pursed as she analysed her patterns of thought, concluding finally that it mattered not if it were possible; the potential damage outweighed the consequences of it being a ruse.
But who to turn to? Chris was AWOL, Leon nowhere to be found, and she knew that the higher representatives would likely dismiss it as unreliable Intel.
She began to haunt the hallways of the base, hoping that at least someone remained awake. They had all been ordered to retreat for an early night in the hope that a final training session could be arranged before the mission the next day.
Jones had likely clocked out early – she worked too hard for her own good – and Newburn was a simple medic with little influence on the teams.
A sharp clunk in a room down the hallway caught her attention and she jogged quietly to the source of the noise, peering into the room before announcing her presence.
The rookie – Donny, was it? – scooped a handful of papers onto his arm, cursing as he placed them all on an in-tray he retrieved from the dusty floor. He seemed not to know what went where, randomly assigning papers to each tier.
Miller was another recruit who had signed out early that evening; she had seen his signature with his own eyes.
"Why are you still here?" she asked, completely oblivious to the nature of the rookie. In an instant, he both jumped and turned at the same time, a flailing arm catching the in-tray and sending it to the floor once again.
"Miss Redfield," he gasped, breathing a sigh of relief. "You shouldn't be here."
Though annoyed at the reminder, she pursed her lips and nodded to the fallen papers.
"You looking for something?" she asked, to which the young recruit shook his head.
"I'm a little clumsy," he laughed nervously, once again stooping to collect the fallen memos.
She watched eagerly as he shoved them all onto one tier this time, hurrying past her before she could probe further.
Naturally, curiosity overcame the redhead and she strode over to the in-tray, leafing through its contents in a manner that could hardly be called subtle. It was general paperwork, nothing out of the ordinary. Of course, the BSAA would hardly be stupid enough to leave important memos where anyone could read them.
She shrugged off her curiosity and continued down the hallway, the whir of a printer now echoing down the hallway. The sound unnerved her slightly, echoes of the past flickering to life around her. She had not previously realised how much the faded green paint and cracked skirting boards reminded her of the old Raccoon precinct.
She tuned out the echoes, rushing for the safety of an occupied room.
"Evening, Miss Redfield," greeted the bald officer, barely looking up from recently-printed pages. "Looking for your brother?"
"DeChant, right?" she asked. She made a mental note to memorise the names and faces of the team. "I'm actually looking for…someone."
He raised his eyes to her, displaying mild, passing interest in information she doubtlessly had to present.
"You know Donny Miller, right? I ran into him before…he seemed a little skittish."
DeChant laughed softly and slipped the papers into a manila folder, turning to politely face her while she engaged him in conversation.
"Can't say you'll find many of us that aren't," he chuckled, showing not a single sign of aforementioned skittishness. "We're all nervous, Claire, but we all know what we're doing. Ain't no amateurs here."
He appeared so confident, so assured. Perhaps Terra Save had been overstating things? They did have a tendency to overreact.
Having said that, would it be worth the risk?
"Are you aware that Terra Save has a contact within the facility you are about to attack?"
DeChant ceased shuffling the papers, now devoting every ounce of attention to her words.
"I was told," he clarified. "Thought it was us, not Terra Save."
Claire laughed.
"Give us some credit," she smiled. "They believe that suspicion is rising around the BSAA's presence in El Paso. The Major's plans have changed drastically over the past few days and he is becoming concerned that there may be a leak in your department; a traitor, double agent, whatever way you want to put it. Granted, this is not one hundred percent reliable, but he has a good eye for detail. He has not been wrong many times before."
"But he has been wrong?" DeChant asked, sighing deeply. "Listen, Claire, every recruit was put under extreme scrutiny during the application process; even the original eleven were heavily vetted. It's nigh on impossible for someone to have made it through with harmful intentions. Trust me on that one."
She had thought of this, but something still did not sit well with her. She could not quite place her finger on it, but something was out of place. It was not enough to elicit fear for her brother and her friends – she knew they were more than capable of taking care of themselves – but it was enough to cause concern.
"Just be careful," she urged. "And tell the others to keep an eye out."
August 21, 2003. ?:??. Location unknown.
"Set up is complete, sir."
"Good," he spoke, fingers clasped around the handle of a mug of coffee that had grown cold in his hands. It was his third cup that day, and likely the third to be cast aside.
"Would you like us to load the specimens now, sir?"
He tore his eyes away from the blueprints, laying them on the nervous guard a moment later. The guard averted his gaze, knowing that the slightest hint of anything negative would be drawn upon and vivisected until he was the one that lay in pieces.
"There will be no need."
"But sir, this is a lot of merchandise. Are you sure you want to-"
"Are you questioning me?"
"N-no, sir…of course not."
And the guard scurried away, relaying the baffling order to the others that waited outside.
There was little need to collect specimens; it was such a small facility, such a pointless load. Important samples had already been collected; what remained was of little interest to him. They were superfluous merchandise, costing more to keep than they would to sell on. Distribute at a base level; that was where the true profit lay.
Of course, it was not the profit, nor the merchandise that interested him on this particular journey.
"We are at level five, sir," spoke a different man, this individual dressed in a white lab coat and medical scrubs. He could not keep track of those sent to assist him. He did not care to, for they were but ants milling around a queen; faceless, expendable drones. The years past had taught him the value of life, and that of humans was worth but pocket change these days.
"Very good," he commended. "Life signs?"
The drone in the lab coat did not need to double-check this information, having rehearsed it a thousand times so as not to make a mistake.
"One or two remain active," he admitted. "I have faith that they will fade soon."
Again, he scurried from view, not wishing to accumulate further tasks and not quite wishing to remain in the presence of danger.
Once again, he was alone. It was exactly how he liked to spend his days; human beings were treacherous, he knew because he was perhaps the most treacherous of them all. He could not trust himself; how could he possibly trust others?
It was easy to understand that a monetary value could be placed on everything from a single pea to the life of the most majestic beast. Life was far simpler when thought of in these terms; it was a transaction, not a gift or a process. Everything was worth something, even life.
'But what of personal matters?'
He smiled to himself. Personal matters were off the record. Because when it turned personal, physical reward was simply a pleasant side-effect. There were too many thorns in his side, and though he had plucked most, two remained wedged beneath the skin. It was wrong of him to let them walk away, but he had been left with no choice. They were far more resilient than he had given them credit for.
When asked for his reasoning, he found that he could give none. They had cramped his style, threatened his operation, had insulted him by walking away. They were irritating, like a rash that he could not quite scratch, that bled no matter how he treated it.
They were two flies that had escaped his web. But soon…that would change.
August 21, 2003. 9:00pm. El Paso, Texas.
His body tingled, the heat of the bed sheets nigh on unbearable but the chill of the air conditioning too cold to shed them completely. Jill curled into his side, her hair spilling onto his skin, head resting on his chest with her hand above his heart. He knew that she could feel it beating, just as he could feel hers against his side. It was racing, her breaths controlled but uneasy, as though she forced her body to return to its normal state but could not quite maintain the façade of serenity.
Waves of fatigue swept over him but he fought each and every one, wanting to remain conscious in this moment. Her eyelashes swept occasionally against his skin and he realised that she was attempting the same. She was rarely tired, quite often interrupting him as he waned in and out of light slumber. It was always he who would collapse against damp sheets and succumb almost immediately to pleasurable dreams. He must have been trying harder than he thought; it was not easy to wear out Jill Valentine in any respect.
Chris exhaled slowly. Of course, his mind had not been where it usually would have been. His desperation was almost shameful, possessiveness reaching almost inappropriate heights. But how was he supposed to react? It was the T-virus that had killed Forest and the others, that had stolen too many years of their lives. Now, it had stolen something precious, and bided its time with the potential to steal her life as it had her hope.
It surprised him how easily he had cast aside the news of her stolen ability. With barely a second to think about the implications, he had decided that it was inconsequential. But still, there was pain there that had not been present before. Fatherhood was not a career he sought at that moment, but it had been a dream for more years than he cared to count. And yet he lay there with the knowledge that it would not be a dream fulfilled, and that it was his own choice to deny himself this. It had been the most difficult but also the easiest decision he had ever been forced to make.
He could not think of a single reason why he would choose children over her. Truth be told, he could not think of a single thing in this world that he would choose over her.
His left arm pulled her tightly into his side, the right then moving across to lay a hand over hers.
If the virus reared its ugly head, he was not sure how he would react. Could he watch her suffer? Could he sit back and do nothing, knowing that nothing could be done? Could he watch doctors euthanize her, saving her from an unnecessarily painful death? Again, he pulled her closer into him, until her breathing altered from the sudden change in pressure. He knew that in some way, he too would die that day. But it was more likely than not that they would never see that day; she was set to live a long, happy life. He knew that he would remain with her for the rest of her days, be that sixty years or six days from now.
'We've only been dating five months,' he reminded himself, but this did not seem to have bearing on where he saw their future heading. He could rarely see two days into the future, let alone sixty years. It was both reassuring and frightening; frightening because he was simply not used to this depth of feeling. All signs pointed to her returning these feelings; she had feared him leaving because of her inability to procreate…evidently she anticipated that children would be in their future.
"You used to tease them when they would say we were attached at the hip," she laughed wearily, her voice low and partially muffled where she turned into his body. "But you seem determined to make that anatomically so."
It was then that he realised her body was at an awkward angle. Previously pressed gently into his side with her left leg wrapped around his, the arm at her waist now virtually held her on his hip, her entire weight resting on this one limb.
Slowly, he lowered her back to her former position with a whispered apology.
She hummed inaudibly against his chest, refusing to tilt her head to an angle that allowed him to measure her expression. That she was hurting affected him deeply; he could not imagine the pain she must have been going through, or the devastation the news must have had on her emotions. After all, he was not the one stranded by his past.
"We didn't use a condom," he noted, desperately searching for some way of reassuring her. How he believed this would work, he did not know. "And look…I'm still human."
This did not seem to reassure her, and she offered not even a quiet laugh.
"I would understand if you walked away," she whispered, no doubt believing that she should offer him an explicit way out.
He tried to ignore her, knowing how absurd the idea was. Even if he found that her admission posed an insurmountable problem, he would not have been so cruel as to simply walk away. His were not the only feelings involved here. They may not have been able to last given these circumstances, but he would support her as a friend.
"I'm not leaving you," he reiterated, once he realised that the annoyance would not fade until he addressed her offer. "I love you."
He kissed the top of her head to reinforce his point, breathing in the sweet scent that lingered on her hair. It was, he noticed, a little longer than it had been on their return from Russia. Was she trying to grow it back out?
"We have to be more careful," she thought aloud. "I don't trust myself."
What could he say? There was no way in hell he would let her fall pregnant, not if the consequences were so dire. There would be little immediate harm if the pregnancy was caught early, but he knew that a termination would be one blow too many. And what if it triggered the virus? Carelessness had never been so costly.
"I think…I should have a hysterectomy," she announced coldly. "Just in case."
Chris just about exploded. The chalk interior of the hotel room suddenly turned a wary shade of orange. She was not thinking straight, was in no position to make such a life changing decision. He pushed himself up into a seated position, causing her to adopt a similar stance in confusion.
"Don't be ridiculous," he scolded. "There may be a cure one day, Jill. What will you do then? Don't throw your options away; you'll only live to regret it."
She did not fall back to his embrace, but instead gaped disbelievingly at him, sheets clutched around her chest.
"I knew it," she gasped, voice betraying the pain that her sudden anger disguised. "Don't hold on to false hope, Chris. I'd rather you walk away."
He did not know how to react to this, so dumbstruck was he by what he had heard.
"You think I'm holding-" he began, the words so absurd that he could not speak them. When he spoke again, his voice was almost a roar. "Did you even listen to a word I said? The only thing I am trying to hold on to here is you, but you are making it extremely difficult! I don't care about children, I don't care about being a father; I care about you! I can't just sit back and watch you throw this away."
"There is nothing to throw away!" she countered. "I'm only trying to be safe. All it takes is one mistake, one, and then everything changes."
A thousand responses appeared to him. If she did not trust herself to regularly take the pill, there were injections and implants that did not rely on her routine. If she did not trust herself to keep to the promise of never deliberately conceiving in the hope that the doctors were wrong, he would keep her straight. She was only twenty-eight years old; she was far too young to consider such a drastic measure.
"I'm sorry that I can't be-"
"That you can't be what?" he snarled. "What do I have to do to prove to you that it's you I want? Children or no children, future or no future."
Silence edged between them as she considered this, biting her lip as she turned away, tears evidently on the cusp of existence.
"I don't know," she answered at last. "I already know, believe me I do. I feel it, I just…I don't think it's enough. Not for you, not really."
Why did she always presume to know what he wanted when she refused to see just how deeply in love he was? He would have given up everything for her, but he was out of ways to show her. There was nothing more that he could do; talking to her had begun to feel like he was slamming his head against a brick wall.
"I'll get a vasectomy," he offered.
"Don't be ridi-"
"I'm serious," he insisted. "They can be reversed, a hysterectomy is permanent. We will both be in the same boat and you won't have to worry about an accidental pregnancy. I want to be with you, Jill. If this is what it takes to prove that then so be it."
Shame fell into her eyes, but she refused to relent. He could almost see her thought process, could almost hear her tell herself that a vasectomy would prevent him from having children with the woman she apparently saw him leaving her for.
Where had this insecurity come from? Was it the news? Her infection was a source of infrequent nightmares and it would not be taking a step too far to assume that the sudden return of that awful threat had left her shaken. But he was sure that was not all. Surely he could not have saddled her with such worry? He did nothing but shower her with love, often to extremes that surprised him. Was it out of love that she chose to turn away, hoping to save him from a future she did not believe he deserved?
Whatever the reason, he knew that there was no more he could do; he had tried all he could but still it did not seem to be enough. If she left, she left, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop her.
"This is a bad time," she realised, voice trembling almost as much as her hands. "We should talk after the mission."
He did not reach for her as she left the bed and slid into her discarded clothes. What good would it do? He was at a loss, both for words and for actions.
"Please don't give up on us," he quietly pleaded as she neared the door.
And suddenly, his own insecurities were shamefully on display. But he did not care; his pride could take the beating, his heart not so much.
Wordlessly, she left.
Leon did not know why he remained awake. It was the same the night before any important endeavour; be it nerves or anticipation, something always kept him awake and busy.
Not that sleep had been an option lately. There was too much on his mind, too much that he did not understand. Too often he found himself straying from his assigned tasks; even now, he glanced up to the computer screen only to see that the name his fingers had tapped in did not reflect that on the sheet before him. Several suspected Umbrella sympathisers, yet the name he had unconsciously typed was perhaps the one suspect whose name he had yet to come across.
Ada Wong.
He did not even know if that was indeed her name. She had lied to him about her purpose, what else had she lied to him about? It would not surprise him if she had lied about her death. Death always left behind a legacy, but Ada appeared to be exempt from this reality. She had disappeared completely, no trace of her to be found. Someone had to be covering her tracks, erasing her existence completely.
He was young when he met her, a rookie in circumstances most veterans would never face. She was an enigma, exotic in everything from appearance to attitude. Attraction melted to the shadow of love, love decayed into mourning, mourning into hope and now…all he wanted were answers. Who was she truly, this woman in red? Had he been just another pawn in her self-serving game?
If she walked through the door at that moment, what would he say? Were there any words?
Footsteps sounded down the corridor and he froze, right forefinger pressed forcefully onto the 'backspace' key. A little way past the doorway, they stopped, paused and then slowly backtracked until he could sense the looming presence of their owner.
"Hey," Claire spoke in confusion, teetering uncertainly on tired legs.
'So much for looming.'
Leon swivelled around in his chair, suddenly not concerned with the work he suspected to be overdue.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" she asked.
"Apparently," he smiled. Why did he smile? It was not his natural smile, more of a quirky smirk that appeared only when she addressed him. He had never been able to replicate this look and was left to the assumption that he looked goofy as hell when pulling it off.
"You okay?" she asked as she took a seat facing him across a small, white table. He did not know if she cared; she was likely just trying to make conversation.
He considered telling her the truth, but knew that no good would come of it. She would tease him, tell him what he felt was love. But he was not so sure. Obsession was not love, and his feelings for Ada certainly tended towards the former.
"What would you do if…you fell for a close friend?" he asked, speaking the words before his brain was aware of the careless lack of security.
The thought had come almost from nowhere, brought on by her sudden presence.
The question seemed to amuse her and she fell into thought for a few short moments.
"It would depend," she answered, humouring him at least. "Two of my friends in high school began dating, then two months later they broke up and I don't think they have spoken since that day. I believe that for a relationship to truly work, you need to learn to be friends as well as lovers. But sometimes the lover can destroy the friend."
He knew that she had a very good point. But he did not know how to be friends with a prospective lover; if he was not immediately attracted to a woman, it was unlikely that he ever would be. Likewise, he found it difficult to be just friends with a woman he found attractive. Perhaps that was the price of falling for women for largely physical reasons. He had no time for relationships; casual dating was all he had.
'Then what is Claire?' he found himself asking. He could think of no answer. Circumstances had not allowed for friendship or attraction to develop between them. He was unsure how their relationship had progressed, only that he looked up one day and found that they were friends.
"But take a look at Chris and Jill," she laughed. "They were both best friends and worst enemies but you can tell just by looking at them that they are meant to be together."
And that was it; the element of yin and yang. Fiery, hot-headed and temperamental met cool, calm and collected. She doused his flames and he ignited her passion. He was the dragon to her phoenix; masculine fury to feminine grace. The bird tamed the beast and in return he taught it how to fly. Despite the balance, both were beings of fire; it was natural, perhaps even healthy, for sparks to fly every now and then.
Love was more than exchanging of emotions; it was the meeting of minds and of souls, the melding of energy to create something beautiful and powerful. Sometimes it did not make sense, and it could rarely be seen approaching. But when it hit, it did so with force and it changed all that it touched.
"This is about them, isn't it?" she asked when he spoke no words. He nodded in false agreement, letting her believe it was so. "Don't worry, they'll be fine and so will your career. I'd be more concerned if they weren't fighting."
She tried and failed to stifle a yawn, but he could see that her attention had begun to wane before he had the opportunity to engage it fully.
"Go to bed, Claire," he urged. She groaned stubbornly and let her head fall to the desk, pretending to obey his command.
"I'm serious," he laughed. "Tomorrow will be as hectic for you as it is for us."
"I guess so," she groaned as she reached out to innocuously touch his bare arm. It was almost enough for him to wish that he had not fallen into the habit of rolling his sleeves up to the elbow.
"Find me before you leave tomorrow," she requested, rising slowly to her feet. "You look like you need to talk and no offence, but I'm way too tired to give reliable advice right now."
He smiled and assured her that it was alright. Because he knew that he would never reveal to her exactly what it was that played on his mind.
Though he was glad for the release of her exit, he missed the company. Somehow, he did not particularly wish to be alone that night. He followed her footsteps with his ears, pausing hopefully when they came to a stop, and quiet words were exchanged with a voice he could not identify from this distance.
Ada's name had been erased from the screen, and he was dismayed to find that he had lost his place in the list he had been working through.
'Typical,' he groaned inwardly. He possessed neither the energy nor strength of mind to start over, not when so much rested on the events of tomorrow night.
His laptop had barely begun to shut down when there was short knock on the open door.
But it was not Claire that darkened the doorway; it was perhaps the last person he expected to see at this hour, especially given their last encounter.
"Are you busy?" Chris asked.
Leon contemplated claiming that he was. Chris had never intimidated him, had never given him reason to feel uncomfortable in his presence. Yet something about their last meeting had set off alarm bells in his mind, warning him to avoid conversation at all costs. It was not that he was afraid of him, but rather of what he could do. Chris was not a cruel man, but his anger did not have a sense of morality.
"Not really," he settled for; a dubious answer. "Did you want something?"
There was something uncertain about his stance. If there was one thing he had come to expect from Chris Redfield it was assertiveness and an absolute air of authority. There were never any signs of vulnerability or weakness and had he not spent time as the man's friend, Leon would not have known that a softer, emotional side existed. It was all part of the intimidation; if you did not know him you did not want to, but if you took the chance to throw a few words his way you would find that there was nothing to fear so long as you remained on his good side. The enemy feared him but his allies loved and respected him. It was an art that the younger man found nigh on impossible to exact.
Yet here he was, shoulders hunched, tired eyes unsure where to look; it was as though the energy had been sapped from him.
An enquiry into his state of mind was almost sent forth, but it would have been futile. His response would have been the same as it always was.
"I owe you an apology," he sighed, even his voice bearing tones of weariness.
Leon had to lock his jaw to prevent it from dropping to the floor. Drawing an apology from a Redfield had been thought to be a task akin to discovering the meaning of life. Even he had believed that the world would reach an age of enlightenment before Chris or Claire would admit that they were wrong in any way.
So shocked was he that he could not think of a reason for the apology.
"I was…upset earlier, and I should not have taken it out on you," Chris offered when he was met only with silence.
Suddenly, memories came flooding back.
"Stay away from her."
"It's okay," he accepted hastily. "But for the record, I hate the fact that you're taller than me. Use that against me again and I may have to kick your ass…well, try."
He smiled to show that it was a joke and was relieved when Chris laughed with him. But it was a nervous laugh, and it became clear that an apology was not all he had been trailing behind him.
"Sit down," he offered. If their friendship meant enough to Chris that he could swallow his pride and accept a moment of weakness let alone apologise for actions caused by it, then it meant enough to him to at least hear heartfelt thoughts out.
"Why are you up so late anyway?" he asked once Chris was seated an appropriate distance away.
"Can't sleep," he excused. "Stupid thing; I was lying awake, thinking about everything that is going wrong and suddenly I can't get it out of my head what an ass I've been to you."
"I thought it was contagious. Nobody around here seems to have a high opinion of me; I suppose it's the government ties."
Chris chuckled quietly then furrowed his brow, devoting a large amount of attention to the hands he had placed on the surface of the desk.
Each man waited for the other to speak, reasons for remaining silent running deep. Though Leon tried to ignore the question that burned in the back of his mind, he could not help but consider it. Who was it that provoked such a hostile reaction from the older man? Who was he meant to 'stay away from'?
"I saw you with Jill," Chris spoke, jarring him from his thoughts. Without voicing his confusion, it had been addressed. "Things have been…strained lately. I overreacted and wound up blaming you when you did a good thing."
Though it strangely relieved him to know that Claire had not been the factor of the threat, the knowledge that it was Jill bothered Leon like he had not anticipated it would. It was late, Jill had retired hours ago. There was only one possible explanation for Chris being here.
"It's logical that she told you," Chris breathed, obviously not caring whether or not he was actually taking in his words. "I guess I should say thank you…you're a good friend to her."
Leon was sure that his blood had frozen in his veins. Somehow, he had taken on some of Jill's concern and knew that the news could not have been good. Again, he was torn between violence and reasoning; if he did not understand then she did not deserve him. She was too good for this. Though she was strong, capable and had absolute control over her emotions at the best of times, she was a lot more vulnerable that she would lead people to believe. Especially where Chris was concerned.
She was afraid, even if she did not see this herself. Afraid of being hurt, of ending up alone. Years of emotional separation tended to do that.
"You jackass," he said, without thinking.
Chris looked up suddenly, confused and a slightly angry. It was clear that he was hurting; if he was in a normal state of mind, Leon would no doubt have been unconscious or at least bleeding by now.
"What did you just say?" he asked, anger rising now.
"I said you're a jackass," Leon repeated, a snarl of his own forming. "She loves you! Isn't that enough? Can you even see how badly this has crippled her? She needs you to be there for her, not to-"
Anger settled into shock, Chris's brow furrowing. But all Leon could see was red, and words were no longer his to command. Even his stance had changed, left forearm resting against the table while his right hand began to make furious gestures in the air.
"She deserves better than this! You stupid, selfish, arrogant-"
Then, shock melted into amusement.
"Leon," Chris interrupted. "Are you quite finished?"
Why did his outburst not rile him into fury? It was expected, welcomed even.
Unless…
"Wait…what?"
Chris grimaced as he considered his words, his expression once again settling into one of dubious pain.
"I don't care," he revealed. "I want her, not her child. I love her and I wouldn't trade what we have for anything."
Now it was Leon's turn to welcome confusion. If Chris's words were true, he could not see how he was here and not with Jill. She was so afraid of what would happen that his words would likely have sent her into a state of perpetual bliss. Knowing that you will never father a child was devastating news to be delivered, but Chris appeared to have thrown it aside for her love; even Leon would admit that this was romantic.
"Then…what is the problem?" he asked. He had to know.
"Apparently that's not enough."
He did not know what to say. Jill was often far too stubborn for her own good. Stubborn and afraid; a deadly mixture.
"There's nothing left I can do," Chris lamented. "If she comes back, she comes back. If not..."
He let out a deep, shuddering breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, as though dealing with a sudden wave of acute discomfort. Leon felt lost, awkward and unsure. Of all the friends he had accumulated over the years, Chris Redfield was the last he would expect to find the need to comfort. It seemed ironic somehow that he anger was now directed at the previously innocent party: Jill.
"She'll come back," he assured him. "She just needs time. Honestly, I think she is still reeling from the news. She needs to come to terms with that before she will open up again. Give her time."
Talking to her would not help. Ultimately, she would accuse him of interfering and likely argue with Chris for speaking to him about such a personal matter. It was at this realisation that he felt the helplessness that appeared to have held his friend captive. Would he have reacted any differently if he were in Chris's position? Fighting for what you love is easy, it was knowing that nothing could be done that would make a difference that was difficult.
"This is stupid," Chris laughed as his fingers further messed up already unkempt hair. "What is it about her that makes me feel like this? Any other girl and I'd realise it wasn't worth the pain and cut and run."
"Is it?" Leon found himself asking. "Worth the pain?"
Chris's eyes darkened and suddenly he could not meet the younger man's gaze.
"Would you think any less of me if I said yes?"
Leon grimaced. Perhaps being perpetually single was a blessing in disguise.
"Fucking stupid," Chris muttered beneath his breath.
There was no balm for a broken heart; Leon knew this despite his relative inexperience in comparison to the former S.T.A.R.S. officer. It could not have been any easier when the object of its ardour had a mistaken view of what was fair. Ever since the days of Umbrella, personal relationships stretched into a new dimension of meaning. Even the most casual friendship was highly valued. Love itself was a rare commodity. Too many years had been spent in isolation, emotional needs forfeited for the good of the cause. Everything needed to be learned anew, and it was to be expected that there would be bumps on the road back to normality. Or, in the case of the couple in question, potholes.
"I'm sorry," Chris repeated. It seemed that on the rare occasion that pride was swallowed and an apology offered, they came in abundance. "I should...get back to the hotel."
Leon rose with him, for a reason that was unclear. Politeness? Or perhaps he feared what would occur should he remain seated by his laptop? Would he begin to look for her? Would he find her? If he did, what would he say?
Love was painful and it was never simple. It was an emotion he did not recognise, and would likely miss if it ever came his way. Searching for this elusive gem in a memory that left him both bitter and angry was not a path he wished to tread.
'You're avoiding the main issue here. Look a little closer to home. It's there and you know it.'
"Actually, I had one more question," Chris asked as he hovered by the door, the bags beneath his eyes highlighted by shadows that had previously been absent.
Leon braced himself. The conversation could not possibly take a more awkward turn, but life seemed to harbour the desire to prove him wrong on as many occasions as possible lately.
"Do you have feelings for my sister?"
On his mental scoreboard, life's tally increased by one.
Though he was not sure of intention, there was a darkly foreboding emphasis on the words 'my sister'. From a simple change in tone he sensed a warning, of how carefully he ought to tread when answering this question and of what he consequences would be if they adversely affected the aforementioned sister.
"Yes."
The word fell from his tongue before he considered his answer. Because ultimately, he harboured deep feelings for Claire and denying the fact was adding weight to the problem every day.
Chris was silent and for the longest moment he was sure he would ever experience, he expected rage. It was no secret that the Redfield siblings were incredibly close; telling the older brother that he felt for the younger sister was perhaps the most ridiculous admission Leon Kennedy had ever made.
But to his surprise, the response was spoken quietly and with genuine concern.
"Why haven't you made a move?"
This, Leon knew, was the part at which he needed to tread lightly.
"Because she is my friend," he admitted. "I care about her deeply, but I don't know what those feelings are. I don't understand it, it's new to me. She is a good friend and I won't sacrifice that for anything less than love. Even then, I think I would be hesitant."
Chris smiled gently and he took this as an encouraging sign. If there were anything wrong with as little as a single syllable of his speech, he would not have been conscious in that moment.
"For what it's worth, I'd be okay with that," Chris admitted. "At least I know that you have her best interests at heart. But I do feel obligated to say-"
"Yeah, yeah," Leon interrupted, daring enough to add laughter to his words. "If I hurt her, they'll bury me in a test tube, right? Trust me, I'd tear myself a new one if I ever did that."
And then the awkward silence returned. Somehow, admitting his feelings to the one person he was afraid of addressing on matters such as this had done nothing to lift the weight around his neck. The feelings of others were always so clear to him, but his own could only be observed through a haze that threw all his senses in a multitude of directions.
And here he was, ending a heart-to-heart with the last man he expected to open up to. Strangely, he felt better in the knowledge that it had been Chris with whom he had exchanged such deep-seated thoughts. Somehow he did not believe that it would feel right with any other man. Likewise, he would not have been comfortable accepting the truths that had been offered to him had it been another.
"So, do we go for an awkward man-hug-type-thing?" he asked, the hilarity of his thought not going amiss.
Chris stared him down momentarily and then rolled his eyes as he prepared to step back out into the hallway.
"Not in a million years," he laughed.
And Leon found that he too laughed. Because it truly was ridiculous.
But somehow...it was alright.
AN - Please review :)