I know, I know. Where the hell have I been? Let's go with: too busy to know my location. I don't have much time right now, but I am still writing (this, MYA, and TDBU). Thanks for sticking around, readers.
The song this time around is: "Blood On My Hands" by The Used. It's not so much of a song fic chapter. More like a song intro… thing…
Chapter 2: Your Blood On My Hands
You've felt the coldness in my eyes
And something I'm not revealing
Though you got used to my disguise
You can't shake this awful feeling
It's the 'me' that I let you know
'Cause I'll never show, I have my reasons
I hate to say I told you so
But I told you so
"Alice? Alice, come back."
The blonde turned her head to look at Claire, but her distraction was evident. "Hm, what?" she uttered, looking down right as Claire tried to make eye contact with her.
"You're doing it again," Claire pointed out and pulled the left side of the steering wheel down to avoid a hole in the pavement. A minor adjustment later and they were back to hugging the center line. It was a warmer winter than normal, not that much was anywhere close to average these the days. The snow that had graced the outskirts of Detroit had all but disappeared as the pair neared Raccoon City. There were spots of slush here and there, but overall the road was clear. Sure that the next short stretch of pavement was good, Claire glanced at Alice a second time. "You're doing that 'thing' where you just look off, and… disappear."
"I'm right here," Alice soothed, her voice rasping more than normal because she knew she was lying. But to make a point, or to dig her own grave, Alice took Claire's right hand from the wheel and held it. She waited for the smile she knew would appear when she opened Claire's hand to trace her sensitive palm.
It didn't take any time at all. The laugh lines Alice had come to love so much showed themselves the instant she lightly touched a crease on the redhead's hand. Not so long ago her return grin would have been a simple gut reaction. Now it had to be forced.
The left side of Alice's lips turned upward with a subtle quiver. It was a show enough to make Claire think she was happy, but Alice didn't know if she'd seen it. The blonde was too occupied staring at Claire's hand in hers. She was too occupied with the images of blood on skin. Claire's blood… on her skin…
There's blood on my hands
Like the blood in you
Some things can't be treated
So don't make me –
Don't make me be myself around you
Alice had kept her promise – was still keeping it. Claire hadn't gone one night without falling asleep in her arms; she hadn't gone one day without knowing her touch. And there had been plenty time for both of those things.
It wasn't safe, but they'd spent an entire week moving in and around Detroit. Their lifestyle for that time consisted of keeping as low a profile as possible and only changing locations when the coast was clear, or empty enough that Alice could 'clear' the way herself. Luckily, there hadn't been much of an undead presence around the city. Because lately… something had been happening…
Every time she had to pull the trigger she-
"Alice!"
"What?" the woman barked.
Claire's eyebrows furrowed and she shied at the harshness of Alice's demand. "I said we're here," the redhead whispered before turning off the engine.
Though Alice's eyes had been open and trained on the road in front of them her sight was completely lost. She quickly tried to regain a grip on her surroundings. Night was beginning to fall, the branches of dead trees shattering the soft orange glow of the sunset. That was troubling. Last she'd been aware, the sun was at least two hours from where it was now. On top of that, they were now in a town.
It was one of those checkpoint towns: a place for travelers to eat, refuel, and then be on their way. This particular checkpoint was only big enough for a K-mart.
Her attention returned, Alice looked back to Claire and voiced her regret. "Sorry." Claire hadn't deserved the treatment she'd just gotten. Alice wasn't even sure why she'd snapped like that. She wanted to pawn it off on how close they were to Raccoon, but it wasn't that. She was nervous about it, yes, but she needed to go there. The blonde needed to see what had come of the place that had a hand in her creation and the world's destruction. She felt as if there was a noose around her neck. The rope burned and twisted into her skin whenever she resisted the urge – the pull – to ground zero.
Five years after the outbreak and the radiation from the nuke dropped by Umbrella should have had enough time to dissipate everywhere but at the very heart of the city. Not that there would be much of a city left. But perhaps there would be city enough to sate the master of the rope. Alice could return to the life she was supposed to be living, her life with Claire.
The redhead had been wary at the suggestion. She knew much of Alice's past and didn't think any good could come of this trip. Still, she agreed because it was what Alice wanted.
They were two hours outside of Raccoon City, but reaching their destination would have to wait until tomorrow. For now they'd make a quick raid of the K-mart in front of them, then return to the truck to sleep away the night.
Alice was a little slower out of the vehicle. She drew her gun but couldn't bring herself to follow on Claire's heels as the redhead examined the outside of the building. The department store was falling apart. Basically, it suffered the same condition has every other manmade structure had. The sidewalks and parking lot cracked and warped without regular maintenance. The concrete walls were deteriorating with constant erosion. This particular building however, had been used as some kind of fort against the undead.
The large pane windows were boarded up with plywood. Even the once-automatic doors were barricaded against intrusion. If the survivors that had done the reconstruction were still around was anybody's guess.
"I don't like this," Alice said, lightly shaking her head to accent her words. The blonde wasn't usually one to flat out avoid potential encounters with living people, but fear was getting the best of her. She was a nervous wreck since doing the unthinkable a week ago. Her stability was beyond questionable and straight into near nonexistence. "We should leave."
"We aren't going anywhere," Claire countered. She had to be firm with the blonde or Alice would run. She would retreat inwards to the place Claire was certain Alice was going when she seemed to disappear. It was a very recent development; one Claire knew had to do with the incident a week ago. The redhead's injury had required stitches, but they were close to being unnecessary. The wound was next to nothing, but it had to be watched closely. A regular infection could very well be her death sentence.
The pair's intimacy had been gentle for that sake. It had been something else too. It was the only time Alice was honest and open. Claire knew the blonde was losing a battle with herself, but it wasn't like the woman to ask for help. No, Alice was stubborn and in denial.
They weren't going anywhere but forward. Claire walked to the reinforced door and saw no way to get in herself. "Alice, kick it in."
The blonde licked her lips nervously and approached the blockade at the instruction. One of the door's glass panes was broken, the glass scattered on the broken cement at her feet. The board covering the opening would take one hit and either fall backwards whole, or her boot would crash through the wood and create a hole she could pull apart.
Holstering her pistol, Alice took the final step forward and lashed out with her superhuman strength. What resulted was the second option. Her foot put a gaping hole in the building material and she easily made an opening big enough for them to pass through one at a time.
The interior was dark, but instead of going for her flashlight, Alice grabbed a military grade glow stick and cracked it. The chemical reaction created an intense green glow. She learned a week ago that flashlights simply didn't provide enough illumination. She could now see in a near 360 degrees and that was much safer even if meant the undead could see her. Tossing the stick to the ground before her, she grabbed a Nite-Tac but kept the weapon at her side.
The air around her was stale, disturbed only by her own breath and then Claire's as the redhead joined her. Claire was not shy about the fact that she was wielding a firearm. There was grace to the way she took steady steps forward, one hand around the grip of the gun, the other supporting the first.
The place seemed abandoned. Perhaps the people that inhabited the store left through an exit in the back.
Reaching the edge of the glow stick's range, Claire moved to withdraw a flashlight but found Alice already cracking another of the plastic tubes behind her. At this rate, they'd be out of sticks before they reached the back of the K-mart. The redhead looked at Alice with a raised brow in question. Alice gave no explanation, simply kept the glow stick in her hand.
The pair moved forward silently. Alice was determined to make sure Claire stayed in her sight. It was difficult to be aware of the redhead, that danger could be mere steps away, and that the danger… could be Alice herself.
Each aisle they came to was as deserted as the last – except one.
"Is she… alive?" Claire asked, not letting Alice investigate before she determined the answer herself. Claire kneeled next to the still girl curled up in a ball, her back tucked tightly against a shelf holding old bottles of vitamins and drugs.
Several of the containers were open, their contents spilled on the floor. Alice saw one near the girl's tattered boots. The Umbrella logo was printed onto the label. She recalled their catchphrase with ease: Our business is life itself. There was no life now. Though she hadn't been dead long, the girl resting on the cold tile was proof enough of that. She was young, her hair and face was tinted green by the light, but Alice could tell that in life she'd been a beautiful girl. Probably had the charm of a shy smile that disarmed even the most tempered strangers. Still, whether by the pills at her feet or the lack of edible food on the shelves – the girl was dead. And Umbrella had dealt in the business of her death.
Claire nearly reached out to brush away a lock of the girl's hair, but her hand stopped in midair. "Alice! She's alive!"
The blonde's eyebrows furrowed, but she took a step in. The additional light and careful examination revealed that the girl was in fact still breathing. "Let's get her some fresh air." Alice holstered her gun and was about to hand Claire the flare, but the redhead was already moving to lift the girl into her arms. Alice led them outside, first kicking apart more of the barricade so Claire could pass through it easily.
In the open air, Alice felt like she could breathe again. Night was coming, but it wasn't upon them yet. In the dusk and on the store's sidewalk, Claire set the girl down gently. She made sure to check her vitals next. The young woman was comatose, but the redhead hoped she could be coaxed out of it with some clean air and a little water.
As if reading her mind, Alice produced a canteen and gave it to Claire. She unscrewed the lid and took the girl's head in her lap. The smallest amount of water found its way into the girl's parted lips. Nothing changed.
"Get me some blankets," Claire instructed. "She's freezing."
Alice returned again, the objects asked for given to Claire without a word. The girl was wrapped in the fleece, but Alice knew they couldn't stay where they were for the coming of night. The blonde waited only long enough for the sun's light to diminish to barely there.
"We should go back inside."
It was safe to assume the K-mart was free of the undead. Any walking corpses would've found the girl in a heartbeat – even if it was only the T-virus keeping the heart going.
They set up a makeshift camp in a corner of the store, near the ransacked clothes department. A bright lantern illuminated empty metal racks around the trio. Claire was sitting quietly next to the girl still draped in their blankets. She'd gotten a little more water into her, but only time would answer the unasked question: Would she live?
Or would she be another of Umbrella's victims…
Their night was restless. Claire didn't leave the girl's side, so Alice wandered the store in search of supplies and something to do. There wasn't much to scavenge; it was easy enough to know why. The unconscious girl had used it all to keep herself alive. There were no signs of any others in the store with her. Alice wondered how long the girl had been alone. All she seemed to find led to more inquires, and no responses.
The orange matte-colored pills littering the floor where they found the girl were from a bottle of aspirin manufactured by the company found in everything. From pharmaceuticals to firearms, Umbrella's red and white logo was stamped on to the product like a burning cattle prod meant for the flesh of society at its finest. Alice's own skin should've been tattooed with the mark – she was by far their best work.
She was too good at killing, at taking lives. So good that she had almost killed Claire.
The bottle that Alice had picked up fell from numb fingers. The plastic clattered to the floor with an echo that hardly sounded in the blonde's ears. She'd almost killed Claire.
Alice knew that she'd done things before, things she had no desire to remember because if she did – they'd play over and over. It began with Umbrella, but it ended with her finger curled around a piece of metal she had no right to be holding. Triggers were her weakness. How could something so simple, so delicate in design, create utter tragedy without thought?
Alice hadn't been thinking when she'd shot Claire, but her mindlessness was no gift. Anyone else would've blamed it on the heat of the moment. Undead were clogging the store's aisle. Alice's flashlight illuminated their faces for only a brief instant before coagulated blood poured from a bullet hole in their foreheads. The scene flashed behind Alice's eyelids and she was helpless to stop it.
At the sound of a step, she remembered turning on her heel and being blinded by another light. That should've been her first sign that she wasn't facing another enemy. Her vision impaired, she lifted her gun only enough to be sure she would hit the figure.
The already-used trigger was warm against her pointer finger, the motion to pull it as easy blinking. Alice hadn't blinked when she realized what she'd done.
She recalled the way Claire fell to the floor, the sound of her voice when she called her name, the red blood hotter than the chill coursing through Alice's own veins as she put pressure on Claire's wound.
They hadn't talked about it. Or more accurately, Claire tried to start conversations about it and Alice refused to participate. What was there to say? Alice had always known that she would be the death of Claire. She didn't deserve her. The guilt of nearly destroying the best thing in her life was making it hard to breathe.
Claire wasn't fooled or convinced. She knew Alice was suffering, and it hurt much more than the shot she'd retained from Alice's own weapon. Talking would have to be put on hold. The girl required Claire's attention more than Alice did at the moment.
The young blonde had yet to stir, and Claire had taken to studying her after dimming down the light from the lantern. She couldn't have been more than 16. Her body was adorned with every type of jewelry imaginable. None of it was anything expensive – more like the eclectic collection of a teenager who was not the best off. Even at the end of the world, the girl's sense of fashion remained intact. Her vest, cap, and skirt were all the same olive green, accented perfectly by a dark brown shirt and striped socks.
As if finally knowing there were eyes on her, the girl moved. Claire impulsively went to her side and took the hand twitching on top of the blanket that was tucked around her. At the contact, the girl's eyes fluttered open. As was expected, the teen's face showed confusion.
"Hey," Claire soothed. "It's ok. You're safe."
The girl tried to wet her throat. Claire was quick to hand her the canteen she'd kept nearby. Her dehydration was readily apparent with how much of liquid she consumed, and how quickly.
"Slow down a bit," the redhead commanded lightly, "or you'll make yourself sick." She was surprised the teen wasn't ill already. The way they'd found her implied an attempted drug overdose. If that was the case, her stomach would be in bad shape. Claire didn't know much about overdoses, but she knew getting the girl rehydrated was important.
Just as she predicted, the girl looked as if she was about to be sick. She put the canteen down and nearly had to cover her mouth to suppress her gag.
Claire helped the girl sit the rest of the way up and then gave her more instruction. "Put your head on your knees. There you go," she finished as the teen complied. It seemed natural to place her hand of the young blonde's back, so Claire did it hoping the touch would be as comforting as she meant it to be.
The girl was shaking a fair amount, but she calmed down after a while. Claire didn't know when she started rubbing her back, but once she noticed it she realized she didn't want to stop. The teen's quivering was subsiding with every pass of her hand. Claire's need to ease another's pain had never been stronger. In mere moments of the girl's awakening she felt a connection with her.
Claire had never felt that anything was missing when she was with Alice, but with the teen brought back to the world of the living – she was now certain the only thing gone was Alice. The blonde had been gone for a few hours, likely pacing up and down aisles listlessly. When they were together again everything would be fine. Better than fine.
When the nausea passed, the girl lifted her head to see her rescuer. Little did she know that there were two of them, and that the other was watching the interaction from the shadows too afraid to interrupt with the phantom of blood on her hands.
Claire gave her a smile and was not upset that it wasn't returned. "Hi, I'm Claire. What's your name?"
"It's Dahlia," the teen whispered.
"That's a beautiful name."
Dahlia's hazel eyes shot up to Claire's with disbelief and unmasked disdain. "I hate it."
"Why?" Claire asked, her head tilting slightly to the left. She knew she should keep the teen talking. Dahlia spoke as if she hated much more than her name. Such self-destruction was clear as day to see in the dull manner with which she replied.
"Everyone I've ever known is dead. I might as well be dead too."
Claire had never been responsible for anything other than herself, not even Alice, but she was about to take a crash course on how to save a life. Two of them.
"Don't say that." Claire's hand moved from the girl's back to her shoulder as she continued, "Giving up… it's easy. It's the easiest thing in the world." She didn't think it was possible, but Dahlia's head dropped lower at her words. "Despair and doubt are both a part of human nature, but so is courage. If it takes all your strength just to breathe-" Alice's lungs froze as Claire continued, "you're brave for every breath you take."
The air left Alice, released by the compassion Claire had just shown a stranger. But she wasn't the only one affected by Claire. Dahlia began to cry. The redhead took the girl in her arms as Alice watched in silence from the sideline draped in shadow. The words hadn't been meant for her, but she consumed them just the same.
Alice let the new acquaintances have their moment. Listening to the girl cry struck a chord and if there was a tear on her own cheek because of it, she didn't notice. No one deserved enough pain to want to take their life. Not Claire, certainly not this young girl, and not even… herself.
Railing against the emotion threatening to overthrow her composure, Alice stepped into the light drawing Claire's eyes to her; Dahlia's weren't far behind. The pair separated, the teen wiping away the trails of the tears that had stained Claire's shirt, and Claire smiling with a glimmer of hope for Alice.
"Dahlia," Claire started the introductions, "this is Alice."
Alice walked to the teen and kneeled. She offered a hand but could see the hesitation Dahlia had before shaking it. Alice didn't blame the girl for not just reaching out. She could still see the blood stains, even if they weren't there.
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