Chris
Oh, come on, don't look at me like that. After all you've learned about Chris and me, is there really anything about our siblingship that still shocks you?
Siblings. What a weird word.
Anyway, yes, Chris and I did things we're not proud of —things that hurt us both— and I've often wondered if it turned us into monsters like those we fight, or if it just made us more human.
They say that hatred is just reversed love, you know? That you hate more intensely the more you have loved and appreciated someone before, and that it's the disappointment over the broken trust that really lights up the fire of despise. Everything else is just fruit of envy or fear.
Do you think it's what happened to Chris and me, too? I don't really know anymore.
As you probably figured, I didn't sleep that night. Nor the rest of the weekend, actually. After Chris had left, I went right back into the shower, trying to scrub his hatred off of me. The memory of that damn gold charm dropping onto me still itched on my skin, and I knew it wouldn't just disappear within a day or two. Maybe it never would, and I would be marked as unworthy for the rest of my life.
I believed it was fair, all that suffering that he put me through after what I had done, but it was hard to find myself being the target of my brother's despise. I had destroyed the only family I had left, and all I wanted was to speak to Chris to figure out if there was still a way to fix it. But I was also a coward, and so I decided I wouldn't be the one who reached out this time. As long as we didn't speak, there was a chance that we might fix it; there was hope.
The following day I flew back to New York with the team. I was lucky nobody made a comment about my whereabouts the previous night, as Neil had ended up drinking with some B.S.A.A. people after the event and was too hungover to ask questions, and the others had been busy as well and hadn't even noticed my absence. So, that part was covered. I was glad to get back home. Expecting to receive more of Chris' silence, I was ready to lose myself in the upcoming workload.
Whoever said they liked Monday mornings was either a liar or a weekend night shift worker. Mondays came with the bitter taste of wasted freedom and the promise of five more days of unexplored paperwork, overloads of coffee and boring meetings. Terra Save, despite its noble cause, was no different. Mondays were the worst day of a work week, only surpassed by Fridays, when suddenly everybody became aware of the tasks that wanted to be finished before the weekend and turned the office hours into a hectic race around the desks. Claire had believed she would be the first one in the office on Monday after the B.S.A.A. convention, coming a little earlier to make up for the time they'd lost on Friday. Much to her displeasure, though, she found that the complete team of secretaries and receptionists was already present, awaiting news from the night in D.C. and about all the young soldiers the B.S.A.A. had been hiring in the past months.
"I don't understand why we don't work more closely with them," was the first thing Claire heard when she walked out of the elevator that morning and it caused her to roll her eyes automatically. "They're so cute."
She somehow managed to get into her office unseen, unwilling to share any gossip with her colleagues, and as soon as she'd locked the door behind her, she sat at her desk and proceeded to go through all the boring presentations again. Leon's handler truly was a reliable asset. She had passed all the presentations on to her even before the event had concluded, and it made Claire wonder if she could purchase someone like Ingrid Hunnigan for her own uses.
The first slide of the set of presentations held the emblem of the B.S.A.A. and the bright colors of green and red were staring at her like a puppy asking for cuddles. She remembered the day she'd seen the letters glow at her for the first time, when Chris and Jill had shown her the corporate achievements of their common life project.
The B.S.A.A. was like their love child, something she had never been allowed to be part of; oh, who was she kidding; something not even Barry or Rebecca had been a real part of, working as mere advisors for the organization. Chris and Jill had found support, contacts and fundings in nine other people who had been in contact with Umbrella in the past, but who weren't related to Raccoon City in any way. Claire found herself staring dumbfounded at the screen as the memories of the past came back like a tsunami, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. Her fingertips began to click aimlessly across the first slide and the next ones, with her mind trying to make sense of all the names of B.O.W.s, people and places.
It was already nine when someone interrupted her musings with a loud knock on the door before storming into the office.
I mentioned already that Neil never waited for a response before entering my office, didn't I? Never. Not once.
"Morning Claire," Neil shouted when he kicked the door shut behind him. "Did you get home well Saturday? You didn't look good."
With a gentle wave of her hand and holding down her annoyed pout, Claire calmed his concern quickly as the man sank into the chair in front of her desk.
"Don't worry. I was just tired. These events are very stressful." She forced a smile before flipping her laptop shut. She wouldn't want him to see that she was scrolling through the presentations, as it only would have brought up irritating questions and informal petitions. "How about you?"
"I'm okay," he said with a serious nod before he leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Anyway, there's something I need to speak to you about."
Claire blinked at the sudden change of attitude in her boss, more comparable to a five-year-old lining up for a rollercoaster ride than the grown-up leader of an NGO. He fidgeted, looking around as though he feared some uncalled ears could catch too much of their conversation.
"Neil, what's wrong?" She quickly shoved the laptop away and folded her hands upon the desk, giving the man a look through narrowed eyes to let him know he had all of her restrained attention.
Fisher waved his hand in a soothing manner.
"Nothing official, I just overheard a talk between two B.S.A.A. operatives at the convention that made me consider," he blurted out and slid a couple of papers over the desk, where the redhead received them with great interest. "I think we should send a team to Africa."
Africa. Her eyebrows sank into a frown at her boss's words as she tried to make sense of the lines she had in front of her, printed black on white. Africa had always seemed to be an interesting ground to grow bioweapons, but the lack of intel had kept Terra Save from successfully establishing themselves there. The land was too extensive and godforsaken to effectively plan an intervention, but Neil had men stationed across the territory to inform him about any mentionable move.
"Any intel?"
Neil shrugged a shoulder, skimming his beard with his fingertips.
"You heard about Kijuju, didn't you?" Neil asked and waited for the redhead to give him an affirmative nod before tapping the papers on the desk. "The situation after the Civil War there remains problematic."
Eyes widened and a gasp left her lips as the conclusion formed and she pulled the papers closer. A Civil War was often a good excuse for bioweapon dealers to intervene and take advantage of the instability, but that wasn't the only detail that screamed for surveillance. The report spoke about oil fields that had attracted the attention of major foreign donors — all unknown — and a civil war was always a welcome excuse to camouflage criminalities and it seemed quite obvious that Kijuju had something huge going on. Whether it was related to bioterror or not was hard to say, though. All they had was a gut feeling, even though it came from Neil, who rarely missed.
"The situation there is critical," Neil mentioned. "The UN is setting up refugee camps and I think it would be a good idea if Terra Save offered their help."
Claire nodded.
"This way we can be close to the front line in case anything is confirmed," she quickly grabbed her notebook and a pen and began to note down all important information.
"I'll set everything up."
Before Neil could add something more to his theory, the phone on her desk rang.
"Excuse me, Neil," she pleaded and took the call from the front desk. "Redfield."
"Claire? Your brother is here."
She sucked in a breath and found it getting stuck halfway down her windpipe as her eyes turned to Neil. The man was awkwardly pressing the fingertips of both hands together, building the shape of a triangle between them. He wasn't paying attention to her.
"Here?" she panted in hope. "You mean, in the office?"
"Yes. He's asking for you. Do you want to come out or…?"
Chris was there.
Chris wanted to see her.
Chris had come and wanted to speak to her. Nervously, she let the pounding of her heart drown the rest of her friend's words to her.
Chris was there.
"Send him in, Lindsay!" she shouted and slammed the handset back onto the device before turning to the man in her office. "Neil, I…"
He looked up and lifted an eyebrow.
"An unannounced visitor?" he asked curiously, not hiding the hint of annoyance in his words. Claire hesitated, taken off guard by his reaction.
"My brother," she explained, and got up to silently invite him to follow her and leave her the fuck alone — a gesture he seemed to understand.
"Oh, I see," he said and lifted himself from the chair. "Family issues. I'll get going, but try not to tell him about Africa yet, okay?"
Claire blinked at him with offense.
"Of course not."
She sighed, scanning Neil's way to the door. When he turned the handle and opened, Chris was standing on the other side, and the two men exchanged instant gazes of respectful hatred.
"Agent Redfield!" Neil exclaimed with a loud laugh, offering his hand. "What a surprise! We weren't expecting you."
Claire noticed Chris' slight grunt at Neil's gesture and watched perplexedly as her brother shook the hand of the Terra Save leader.
"Mister Fisher. Excuse me for not communicating every one of my private visits to you first," he replied coldly and gestured to Claire. "Won't take long."
Neil snickered almost comically, the open door still in his hand as he added, "No worries. See you later, Claire."
Once the Terra Save leader had left and closed the door behind him, Chris huffed out a judgmental laugh and rolled his eyes.
"Dick," he muttered and made Claire giggle nervously. She was still standing up behind her desk, watching the brother on the other end, next to the door, in silence.
Awkward silence. Dangerous silence that seemed to choke them. Deadly silence.
And said silence went on until Chris gave her the first word in a month that wasn't meant to be an attack, free of malice or judgment. Just a gentle greeting between two people that casually shared the same space at the same time.
"Hi."
Okay, it wasn't much, admittedly, but she had missed hearing the calm tone in his voice so much that her lips instantly drew a soft smile.
"Hi."
Also, she herself wasn't exactly abundant with words either, but the feeling of peace was so overwhelming that she nearly cried when Chris stepped closer. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for them to fix this all, forgive, forget and get back to where they were before — back to where they belonged.
Chris stopped just a couple of feet away from her desk, a piece of furniture she seemed to use like a fortress to hide from any confrontation.
"Claire," he called as his look wavered through the room, the upcoming sentence breaking the peace. "We need to talk this over."
It sounded like the end of a relationship, the point of inflection that would decide whether there was still love or abandonment, and Claire shifted her weight from one foot to the other, forcing herself to nod.
"I know," she responded and gestured to the chair in front of the desk, but Chris declined with a wave of his hand.
"No, not here," he quickly responded, something sad and ugly covering his features. "Outside."
She swallowed as her chin dropped into another nod. Away from people, so nobody would know the tedious truth about the sister who had taken what wasn't meant to be hers, and the brother who had hated her a little too much for it.
"I can come to your apartment tonight..."
Chris hesitated shortly, but shook his head once again.
"Uhm, no," he muttered with an unusual rasp in his tone and his eyebrows lowered into a frown. "I'd rather come to your place."
Because this way he would be the one who decided when the conversation was over. It was one of the first break up lessons, right before the It's not you, it's me talk. Claire sucked her lower lip between her teeth and chewed on it, hoping to relax.
"Sure," she replied and put a hesitant smile onto her brother's face. "At seven?"
He nodded.
"Okay," he responded and turned back to the door, moving slowly to leave her, once more, dying of want. "See you, Claire."
He didn't wait for her to reply, not hearing her faint goodbye as it was drowned by the sound of the lock falling shut. Once she was alone again, Claire dropped into the chair, put her elbows onto her desk and folded her hands in front of her lips. She would have cried; it was the right time to cry; but there were no more tears to shed for a woman who had lost so much.
And she was about to lose the rest of it all.
Deprived of sleep and hope, Claire's mind spent the rest of the day in a state of absence, as though it helped her bear with the expectation of the pain. She set up the preparations for the team Neil had asked for, chatted with her comrades like nothing bothered her and left the office at five o'clock, completely inattentive to what she was doing or feeling, and it seemed like it was the only way that would effectively bring her through the day. When the candle on the dining table was lit at seven o'clock, Claire awoke from the protective trance that had kept her busy all day long, surprised by her achievements herself.
The room smelled like tomato sauce and basil and the walls were kept in the flickering shadow of the candlelight. She deadpanned.
Her subconscious was an evil bitch.
There were footsteps on the stairway, close and circling as though the person on the other side of the door didn't know whether to ring the bell or run away, and Claire slowly made her way to the door as soon as she heard the noises. Hand on the knob, she opened with patience, giving the hesitant visitor time to fathom the happenings. A part of her expected to find the space in front of her door empty, with the footsteps fading into the night to avoid the unwanted confrontation. Luckily, that part of her was wrong.
Chris was in the same tight B.S.A.A. shirt he'd worn in the morning, proof that he had come right after work. She herself had changed into a comfortable tank top and blue jeans, a casual outfit for the hours after the job was done. Chris fidgeted shyly when their eyes met.
"Hello," he mumbled with a tiny, visibly forced smile on his lips. "Sorry if I'm late."
Claire watched him standing in the hallway like a little boy waiting for his mom to pick him up. So uneasy and scared that she felt pity for him.
"You're not," she replied, stepping aside to grant him access.
Chris walked into the apartment looking as though he'd just entered the place of worship of a satanic cult, cautiously, watching his steps.
"Was there a power cut?" he asked as he saw the lit candle on the dining table, the only light in the room.
Claire hesitated, a little embarrassed by the scenario and how it seemed like she had led him into an ambush.
"I like the dim light in the afternoon," she mumbled quickly, fidgeting nervously at Chris' guarded behavior. "But I can turn the lights on if you feel…"
He interrupted her with a wave of his hand.
"No. If you like it like this..."
He walked farther into the apartment before turning around, his face distorted into a slightly pleased grimace which let her know that he'd perceived the smell of tomato sauce that hung in the room. Claire, feeling caught, sucked in a short stream of air before embracing herself shyly.
"I… I made dinner," she said apologetically as she watched the hint of terror surface on her brother's face. "Mom's meatballs. I thought that you probably haven't been eating properly and that we…"
They stared at each other in silence, somehow intensified by the flickering of the candlelight, and Claire suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed. She was absolutely certain that she had just meant well, that she was worried about his eating habits and his health, but now that he was there, standing in the candlelight and embraced by the delicious smell of meatballs in tomato sauce, it truly looked like she had it all planned to turn their meeting to talk into a romantic date night.
She was so stupid.
"Oh, god. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." she said and raked her fingers through her hair before blowing out a desperate breath. "You can take it home, of course. I don't want you to feel awkward."
Chris blinked, taking grasp of the situation as his face turned into the direction where the delicious smell emerged from. Before Claire could dash into the kitchen to box the meatballs up for him, he caught her wrist and held her back.
"No," he said with a slight shrug and a smirk as though he had just been waiting for someone to cook him dinner that night. "Let's eat."
The tomato sauce on white ceramic looked like a huge pool of blood in the dim light. The fist-sized meatballs she'd made after their mother's secret recipe, which only differed from other meatballs due to their indigestible amount of chili powder, lay fuming on the plates Claire was setting on the counter to complete them with tiny leaves of basil. Her hands were shaking with expectation and anxiety, and a part of her wished she could stay in the kitchen all night long only to avoid hearing what Chris had come to tell her. At least, he was still there.
When she took their meal to the dining table, she found her brother standing in front of the book shelf, tightly holding a picture frame in his hands. She recognized the family portrait immediately, feeling interrogated by his glance alone when he turned.
"I'm surprised you still keep it," he exclaimed as soon as he acknowledged her presence, huffing out a dark laugh afterwards.
Claire put the plates down and looked at him.
"As I said, I'm used to it already. But I used to keep it in my bedroom before," she explained without lifting her look from the table. "Does that mean you…?"
He grunted again and left the frame back on the shelf, turned to face the books.
"I think I put it in a box under the bed." He laughed. "And I have been sleeping on the couch since."
She didn't know what to say. How often had she felt the provoking stares of her mother on her body and soul, most intensely the times she had felt most shameful, and wished she could simply turn all the judgment off by turning the picture around. Her eyes lifted to the face of her brother, who seemed to be absorbed by haunting thoughts himself.
"Do you want a drink? Wine or…?"
Chris declined with a shake of his head.
"No… no alcohol for me, thanks," he muttered.
His stare told the rest of it, penetrating her soul until it found her guilty conscience. Of course he was trying to get away from alcohol, she thought, as it would deprive him of thought, power and control when he'd face her. Claire swallowed.
"I see." Turning back into the kitchen she returned with a bottle of water and a can of coke.
She felt like she did need a drink, but that wouldn't be fair towards the man who had found more than one kind of destruction in alcohol.
"Yes, thank you," Chris said when she clicked the can open and offered to pour him a glass.
The siblings stared at the glasses until the foam had retracted, and the fizzy sound of the drink was the only thing that could be heard in the room. Claire ran her fingers along the backrest of the closest chair before curling her hand around it resolutely and giving it a pull. Chris followed her, taking a seat on the chair next to hers. It felt good to have him close, to see that he wasn't avoiding her by choosing the seat the farthest away from her, and that they were able to have a serene conversation.
"Enjoy."
They ate dinner in silence. With her stomach set on the edge by nerves and fear, Claire felt it hard to swallow the slices of meatball she had cut into tiny pieces with her knife, while Chris had barely parted them once with his fork before attacking the food, shoveling big amounts into his mouth.
"Is it too spicy?" So, this question was absurd, actually. Chris looked up and shook his head.
"It's perfect. Thank you."
She watched in delight how he smiled at her before getting back to devouring the meal, and she was happily cradling herself in the hint of normalcy she had believed to never experience again. It was, for a moment, as though nothing had ever changed, as though no Jill Valentine or Albert Wesker or Umbrella scientist had ever come to trouble them.
As though they had never tried to break, misuse and hurt each other.
"Chris, I…" she called out, dropping the fork into the pool of sauce on her plate and reaching for his hand. It came to a stop when Chris' arm twitched, as though he attempted to pull it away in a gesture of automatic defense. "I'm so sorry."
It was all she could say. Beyond the hundreds of I love you' s she wanted to scream into his face, there was only one thought left, the cry for forgiveness.
"I didn't want to hurt you, Chris. I was blinded," she explained, calmly, surprising herself with her composure. "I was so blinded that I misread and believed…"
She paused. What had she really believed to be doing when she'd ridden him for her own pleasure? Chris lanced a curiously inspecting look into her direction.
"There isn't much to misread in a no , Claire," he pointed out when she failed to continue her speech.
That hurt, she realized when her lips pressed together in shame. It hurt because she knew he was right, that she had been selfish and that she shouldn't have broken all her promises.
"You are right," she replied and shifted in her seat, head hanging low.
Chris blew out a breath. Dropping his fork, he raked his fingers through his hair.
"But, Claire," he finally said after an endless period of silence. "This is not your fault."
"Don't say that, Chris! Of course it's my fault! I started it!"
Eyes and mouth wide open, she shook her head in eager conviction. Decided to throw her commotion at him, she could only be stopped by the gesture of his hand on her wrist.
"Claire Redfield, listen to me," he said a little too loudly and Claire kept quiet. Once she had calmed down, his voice turned softer. "You did things, yes, but if there's anyone to blame for it, it's me."
With her spirit about to break under the weight of the conversation, Claire winced.
"Chris…" She tried to speak, but couldn't bring out more than his name. Her brother sighed.
"I have been thinking a lot lately. Too much, even. About how I didn't see that you needed help, about how much this all must have affected you," he whispered. "And about why I…" He cleared his throat, forcing out the words. "About why I let it happen. I was so…"
"Don't say it!" she pleaded, but he said it anyway.
"Weak."
The word caused her to gasp softly.
"Not weak," she whispered as she clenched her fists so hard her fingernails dug into her palms. "Vulnerable."
He huffed out a faint laugh at the comment and ran his hand over his mouth and chin. "Whatever. Weak, vulnerable? The fact is that I could have stopped you and I didn't."
Claire momentarily let her eyes fall shut in defeat, hating herself for catching her brother in this wheel of self-loathing, when all she wanted was for him to be happy.
"This is not your fault."
The look she got was a curious one, amused and malicious at once. Chris turned his face away and began to fondle the napkin on the right side of his plate.
"What about Washington?" he asked with a scowl. "Isn't that my fault either?"
She hesitated as the sadness surfaced in his eyes, and she wondered what it was exactly he was regretting about it; if he was aware how much it had hurt her to see herself so closely compared to the ghost of Jill.
"You had a right to…"
"Fuck that right!" He slammed his palm onto the table, startling them both with it, and he stared at his own hand with incredulity, as though it didn't belong to him. He sighed again.
"I don't know, Claire," he finally said, recovering the relaxed tone from before. "I can't say what got into me on Saturday. I just know that I wasn't prepared for our confrontation yet and when I saw you with that … man."
Fine, maybe man is not exactly the word he used.
The pause Chris made was spiced with a roll of his eyes. "After all that happened. All that you told me…"
That statement caught her attention, leaving the seed of doubt about what he was referring to planted inside her. Was it only what he knew about Leon, or was it the fact that she was turning to someone else when she had said to be in love with him.
All of it . He was referring to it all, afraid and hesitating like someone who had no right to ask for it. How funny, Claire thought. It was hilarious that he believed so, when he was the only one who had the right to ask anything from her. She heard her teeth shatter.
The hand that had previously hit the table was now toying with the napkin again, and Claire's look jumped up to his face, where doubt and shame were dancing in circles, leader and follower switching roles at the pace of the seconds. Tension and expectation were crawling up her throat, and she felt she was about to puke. Chris hesitated, taking a sip from his glass before he kept speaking, ramming his fingers onto the table.
"I lost it."
Claire gasped, her mind spinning at a sickening velocity, trying to make sense of Chris' words and all his doings.
"Leon and I…"
She wanted to tell him that she hadn't slept with Leon again; that he was the only one who she had been intimate with in the previous weeks and that she probably wouldn't want to be touched by anyone else. If she was never going to have sex again, she would be happy to know that Chris had been her last one. Her voice was cut with another gesture of her brother, though, and a lifted hand and a roll of eyes said that he didn't need to know more.
"That's your business, Claire, not mine. And I'm… very sorry for my behavior," he whispered. "I was supposed to take better care of you, and I fucked up."
Claire sobbed when the apology impacted on her soul, her stomach twitched again and she felt nauseous.
"You always did your best, Chris."
He laughed.
"I had to learn the hard way that sometimes your best isn't enough." He paused between words, making the pressure in her rise. "The point is that you're my family. The only one I have left. And I don't want to lose you."
As though he had just pushed a button on her, the tears stood in her eyes instantly, burning like fire behind her eyelids. Before she could reply with another apology from her side, Chris kept speaking.
"You were always there for me. You know that, for the past two years, I have been thinking of Jill and what happened at the Spencer Estate every single day."
Claire sighed softly, an automatic repulse to the mention of the brunette that had stolen his heart and had jumped with it into the abyss. She nodded, though, unwilling to let her displeasure shine through.
"I know," she whispered, hoping to give him the needed understanding. "I know how much you loved her." His glare jumped from her face back to the plate in front of him.
"Yeah. I couldn't find myself in all this… this tragedy, the questions why. I was lost, Claire. You know it. I wasn't myself anymore."
That felt awkward, she realized, and prepared herself for another stab in the back. What kind of excuse for his behavior had he come to give her, she wondered, when the excuse of the dead girlfriend and the heart left broken was as old as Methuselah already. Chris cleared his throat and frowned, visibly troubled by the search for the right thing to say.
"There hasn't been anyone I felt really comfortable with since Jill's accident ." That was the term he always used. Accident . Not death or sacrifice . "In a physical way, I mean."
Claire nodded, determined to show comprehension, when everything around her head was spinning as she pictured him with other women — or maybe even men. Anyone sounded like a multitude, and the sheer thought of how many people he could have slept with searching for a little love to shut up the voices in his head made her sick. Chris exhaled to continue his telling, but huffed out a laugh first.
"Until you," he blurted out and had all of her shaken attention immediately. Her head turned around in shock about her brother's confession. "Because even knowing it was wrong and selfish, I can't say I have been treated any better these years. You're the only one who acted like she was really there because…" Fingers softly thrummed his chest. "Because of me."
She swallowed the words, praying they wouldn't poison her with sweetness. Still caught within the expectation, she found the strength to release the breath she realized she'd been holding since he'd walked through the door. Chris sighed.
"And now, I can't stop thinking about all this. What you and I did. How we… cared and hurt each other. The guilty conscience, the sleepless nights and..." He shook his head and Claire watched him, seeing the doubt in his face. "The whole incest thing." He paused again, letting the forbidden word breathe until they both choked on it.
She wanted to speak, yell all the tension away, but she could only get herself to squeal innerly. Chris' demeanor had shifted to a warmer one, a more protective one, and he even smiled a little when he said, "the point is that since… since that night… I haven't been thinking that much about Jill anymore."
Claire blinked, forcing down the laughter before it could escape. It wasn't exactly the way she had hoped for things to develop, but she had eventually pushed the thought of the dead girlfriend away. Her lower lip shook when she finally found her voice to ask, shyly, "What… What are you trying to say?"
Chris swallowed, showing her the bob of his throat.
"I'm trying to say, Claire," he muttered, "that you're making me feel better by making me feel miserable."
She deadpanned, her chest aching from excessive heart beating and lack of air. It wasn't the declaration of love she had always wished for, but it was not an attack nor an excuse either, and it was still enough to make her head spin again, until she wondered if she had accidentally spiked her own drink. Chris fell back into his usual state of silence, while she tried to find an answer inside of her.
She was making him feel better . A tear of emotion dropped onto her burning cheek, climbing onto her fingertips when she brought them up to wipe it away. It was a unique chance that was unfolding, the one single shot she would ever get. Her heart was hammering loudly, anticipating the question that meant everything to her. Her last card.
"What if…" Claire mumbled lowly, turning to face him with caution. "What if you let me try to make you feel just better?"
Chris frowned. It took him a while, it seemed, to understand what exactly she was proposing, but once it dawned on him the expression of doubt was substituted by one of panic. He huffed and shook his head.
"That's not what I was saying, Claire," he laughed awkwardly, hands back to handling the napkin. "You're my sister."
Her eyebrows jumped up in automatic response to his accurate, though half-assed reasoning. She couldn't believe her own words when she said, "Does it really matter after all?"
Chris turned to her, shock spread all over his beautiful face.
"What the fuck, Claire? Of course it goddamn matters! It's..."
He paused. He paused and a pause meant uncertainty. He paused and it gave her faith and the recent disappointment switched back into a ray of hope inside her chest. She didn't want to seem desperate, but she knew that, if he let her, she would be so good to him that he'd never regret it.
"I just want to take care of you, Chris." Her hand reached for his and, this time, he let her hold it. "I love you."
His eyes jumped to hers, a dubitative twitch in his features telling her what she already knew. He wouldn't respond. She knew he loved her, but not in the same way she loved him. Comparing the two types would lead to a painful confusion neither of them could stand.
"I know. It's okay," she responded and squeezed his hand tighter.
Chris kept hesitating, clearly caught between the fronts of morality and desires. Another head shake came from her brother.
"It's insane, Claire," he said suddenly. Shortly dazzled by the chance to discuss the situation, Claire just shrugged.
"The world is insane," she blurted out and surprised herself with her logic. "We've seen so much, Chris. We've lost so much. Aren't we allowed to be a little insane, too?"
Chris laughed slightly, his eyes still set on hers.
"It's illegal."
That was true, too, but what was this kind of illegality compared to the evil of the bioterrorism they were combating on a daily basis?
"Nobody has to know about it," she pleaded, feeling the stinging desperation of hope run wet down her face. Her brother stared at her, his jaw engaged in rolling moves that hinted at intense thinking.
"They would find out," he hissed, but she had a response to that, too.
"Nobody would know!" She exclaimed. "We've always been living together. As you said, we're family!"
The frown on his face meant so much that it was hard to decipher. He looked like he wanted to run away and ask for advice before facing her again.
"It's…" he snorted eventually. "It's not that easy, Claire."
No, it wasn't. To him, it wasn't, because he hadn't lived with the imagination, the longing, for so many years. To him, it wasn't easy because he was a good and righteous guy — a hero — and heroes didn't commit incestuous acts that would push them further down into hell. Claire swallowed.
"So? I think that the worst is already done," she heard herself whisper, and the words of hope came out like a warcry.
He laughed at the truth in the line; a fat, ugly and undeniable truth. There weren't any more lines for them to cross, it seemed. They had fought their war in a physical and emotional way, and now that they had reached this point, it could either be their end or the beginning of something wonderful. So far, there was no end in sight.
"I came to tell you that we need to stop doing this."
And now they were wondering if they could add a new layer to their relationship, if there was something more reasonable and balanced lying between the sheer fuck and the loving trust of siblingship. Claire blinked.
"I know."
He laughed again, incredulously this time, as though he was attempting to fathom what exactly was going on in his own head and heart. Struggling with the reality in the whole conversation, he seemed to try again to make sense of everything, to search for another reason not to let her bend him, but there was that one tiny detail he hadn't mentioned yet, and which told Claire there was hope beneath the despair.
He had said it was impossible, that it was wrong, that it was prohibited.
He hadn't said he didn't want it.
And just as the thought crossed her mind, and another ray of hope wanted to blossom, Chris replied.
"Okay," he said, and time stopped running.
Claire let her eyes jump across Chris' face to scan it for misunderstanding, regret or a change of mind, but she only found the glance of a man ready to try — a scared one, admittedly— no matter where it would take them. She sighed in relief as a tiny smile formed on her lips.
She was dreaming. She had to be. It was too wonderful to be true, she thought, and nearly let the idea distract her, but the expression on her brother's face told her that it wasn't a dream. This was reality and she would be an idiot if she didn't accept the immense gift she had just been given. After everything they had gone through, everything they had done, it was time to finally heal together. After gulping down the last bit of hesitation along with the rest of coke in her glass, she turned in her chair and got up, stepping slowly in the space between Chris' legs. He blinked, visibly overwhelmed, and as soon as he had her in his reach he placed his hands onto her wrists and slowly moved them upwards to her elbows. He was shaking, Claire noticed. Or maybe it was herself. She couldn't tell anymore.
A gentle pull on her arms made her drop down onto his thigh. Their faces were so close to each other that she could feel his breath on her jawline and inhale the wonderful scent of the aftershave from the morning that still lingered on him. His touch was gentle, with a tickling brush that dipped her skin in goosebumps and Claire found herself running her fingers up his chest and neck to cup his jaw and cradle his face in her palms.
So near. They were only an inch away from their next kiss, and the sheer thought made her tremble. Thumbing the perfection of his cheekbones, she watched him press his lips together and swallow in doubt. Yes, it was hard for him, she realized as she watched his eyes fall closed before his mouth dropped open. And when he jerked forward to catch her lips, Claire pulled back. Once back open, Chris' eyes searched for an explanation, but before confusion and frustration could surface, she teasingly ran the pad of her thumb over his bottom lip, smiling lovingly to ease his impetus.
She was there to make him feel better , and if it meant that he needed his thoughts to hide in the shadows, she would grant him the handicap of blind righteousness. With that thought on her mind, Claire turned to the table and blew the candle, leaving them in the safe darkness of the room, locked away from any mistimed eyes on the outside, and from Chris' own guilty conscience on the inside.
And she brought her mouth to his waiting lips.
Carefully evaluating what the kiss would provoke in them, they began to explore the other's touch through the intimacy of the moment. Eyes tightly shut, she nipped and caressed him with prudent shyness. Chest filled with joy and curiosity, she raked her fingers through his hair as Chris ran his hands over her neck. Finally, he was pulling her close against him, not pushing her away, and Claire winced at the thought. Their noses rubbed together and Chris shifted, angling his head to the side, and allowed her better access to his mouth when he opened it and let their tongues meet.
She nipped on his upper lip, running the tip of her tongue over the inside of it and making him gasp. He closed his mouth and their lips entwined, suckling, licking, savoring. It was a real kiss, and another thing Chris excelled at, she discovered. Looping her arms around him, she pressed her breasts against him and it felt so much better this time.
Right. It felt right.
Chris seemed to agree, still jerking and touching and caressing. He was hesitant, though, when his hand went down and almost, almost brushed the swell of her breast. Claire broke the kiss and chuckled, drowning in love for him, and arched her back in a way that her breast simply bopped into his palm, finding all the attention it needed. Chris cupped it, gently, and stroked it until she felt her nipple harden. She gasped breathlessly into his face, smiling shyly when Chris looked into her eyes again. So beautiful. With his senses at their fullest, all of his attention felt real and exciting. They stared at each other in the low shine of the city lights that poured through the window, and when he dared give her another tiny squeeze, Claire freed herself from his grip and climbed off his knee, catching his hand on her way to an upright position.
He was staring at her in lust and fear, she realized when she pulled him onto his feet. A soft kiss was planted on his lips as a promise that he didn't have to be afraid, that she wouldn't hurt him again. She turned, guiding them to her bedroom on a slow sole.
It was best to keep it in the same protecting shadows as the dining room, to turn down the power of the wrong senses, so it would be easier for Chris to give in to the right sensations. He was bound to feel loved, not edgy. They faced each other in darkness, standing next to the bed as their hands searched the protecting body of the other for a place to hold. It was incredible to have Chris there with her, and Claire couldn't hold back a soft sob of happiness when she slung her arms around his torso and embraced him, and her brother didn't hesitate to turn her face up and kiss her again. If he pictured it was Jill who was there with him, like she had pictured him when she'd been with all other men before, she wasn't certain, but she wouldn't let the thought ruin her night. The closeness was overwhelming, and when Chris carefully crossed the hem of her shirt to push his warm hands underneath, her mind remembered the name of the upcoming act.
She would be making love . Her first real time, without fear and regret standing between them, and it was so incomparable to anything she had experienced before that she couldn't help but feel jittery about it. She lifted her arms, letting him pull her tank top over her head and leave her exposed to him.
Only that she didn't feel exposed. Once Chris' look found her body, braless, she saw the desire on him, carefully carved into his features. His lips parted, and he inhaled.
"You're beautiful," he whispered and made an unnaturally sweet sound that made Claire cry out. Drowning in her own excitement, she threw her arms around his wide shoulders and pressed her mouth onto his again. The kiss was short and energetic and their lips parted with a loud smack right before Claire found herself tugging indiscreetly on the B.S.A.A. shirt already. She ripped it up to his chest and Chris threw his arms to his back over his head to reach for the fabric. The shirt was removed, it dropped to the floor, and Claire sucked in a short breath.
The fancy jingling sounded like the trumpets of apocalypse. She was willing to accept him in any possible way, but the golden piano charm and the low lights shimmering on it were another hurtful slap to the face. They both stopped kissing, moving or breathing, and just stood there to check what the presence of Jill would do to them. Claire reacted first. Her fingers rose to toy with the jewelry in silence, until Chris closed his right hand around hers and cupped her cheek in the left one.
"I'm sorry," he whispered and kissed the corner of her mouth before reaching for the clasp. "I didn't expect that we…"
She shook her head, placing her hand onto his before he could undo the spring ring.
"Leave it on," she asked, the look of hers searching for Chris' in the dim light. "It's a part of you."
She wasn't sure if he would have taken the chain off had he known how the night would evolve, but she didn't want him to do it only to please her. Well aware that she couldn't replace Jill, she settled for the plain and cruel coexistence, granting him that liberty for the sake of his own wellbeing. She cared, of course, and she wished that the competition in the race for Chris' heart hadn't been that irreplaceable, but she didn't want to rip that part away from him.
She had been the little sister; Jill could be the ghost of the past, and if Chris needed time to see it the same way, she was willing to wait.
A hint of doubt spread over Chris' face, but he eventually nodded, accepting her offer for the sake of the moment, as though he didn't want to waste more time staring either. Their lips crushed back together, hungry need pushing them to grope each other recklessly, and Chris quickly ran his palms down her curves to give her butt an ungentle squeeze. Claire, longing to be in equal condition, mirrored his moves, holding his ass in her hands like a trophy. Their hips rubbed together and she felt him press hard against her.
She chuckled, proudly and in excitement, and her teeth sank into his lower lip. She was fast unbuckling his belt and pushing her tiny hand into his pants, and Chris shivered, breaking the kiss momentarily. Claire opened her eyes and watched him.
"Nervous?" she asked with a hint of compassion.
He laughed and scratched the back of his head theatrically.
"Almost like my first time."
The answer caught her unprepared and made her pant in surprise, welcoming the revelation that it was a special occasion to him as well. She wanted to ask him about that first time, who it had been with and where it had happened, but she figured they had plenty of time for private talks. Right now, she just wanted to add another experience to their lists of encounters. Before she could push her hand deeper into his boxer briefs, Chris' eyes waved to the bed next to them. She smirked and, after kicking her shoes off, she proceeded to climb onto the mattress, her brother right after her.
How quickly he caught her between the sheets and his weight, careful not to crush her as he slung his arms around her and held her below him, watching her face. Enjoying the warm glance he was pouring all over her, Claire let out a soft gasp, at which Chris smirked.
"So... what do you like?" he asked, catching her by surprise with the attempt to agree to a procedure for their lovemaking before starting. She laughed shyly, uncertain what to tell him.
"Many things, I guess," she replied and shrugged. "But we have time for all of them. Now, I don't want to rush it. Let's just… take it slow and..."
Romantic.
She wanted this to be flowery romantic, with lots of eye contact and cuddles, but asking for something so innocent suddenly felt embarrassing to her. Chris, however, didn't seem to find it embarrassing. He seemed to understand. Grinning warmly, he nodded, and his mouth dropped carefully back to hers. With a half-hidden thrill that soon left her breathless, he kissed her again, entwining their lips with care so they could savour each other. They spent a million heartbeats enjoying their touch, running their hands along the familiar body in an unfamiliar way, unwilling to leave each other's mouth, until they just did. Legs entwined, Claire sensually slid her foot up his side while he moved his lips over her jaw, down her neck and to her collarbone, and she yelped out when the line of kisses stretched down to her breast.
"Oh, god," she cried, feeling joy tickle fervidly between her thighs.
She pushed her hips up to meet his groin and Chris gruffed. He took his time to travel further down, shaking fingers exploring her like Indiana Jones on a quest for a hidden treasure. He soon found the button of her jeans and flicked it undone with ease. Claire exhaled, arms and fingers searching for support in the resistance of the headboard, fearing she would fall deeper in love and desperation the farther Chris descended. Once the jeans were gone, he focused on the underwear, giving her an intense stare of lust as though he had never seen a girl in panties and she wished she could read his mind that precise moment. Claire chuckled nervously, feeling the love pulsating in her spot when Chris hooked his fingers into the waistband of the cotton shorts, replacing them with kisses on their way down. Before he had removed them completely, his mouth hovered over her mound, blowing his hot breath against her skin in a torturous way until the tip of his tongue slipped out and tasted her. Claire cried out in surprise, wishing he would never remove his mouth from her clit again.
He did, though, ripping a soft moan of disappointment from her pouting lips.
She sat upright when it was time to release him from the ties of his pants, and Chris' head sagged back as soon as she put her hands on his zipper again. The sound of his breathing went up, his chest rising, and when Claire wrapped her fingers around his dick, the expectation rose to unbearable limits and a moan was released into the night.
She stroked him like she had been taught to, and shivered as Wesker's words about teaching her everything she needed to know in case Chris ever touched her came back to her.
The old bastard had been right, after all, and every one of Chris' moans that evening had its origins in all those nights in Wesker's office. And when Claire looked at her brother now, seeing him with his eyes closed and his lips parted in pleasure, she felt like it had been worth all the shame and suffering. She felt him grow harder in her tiny hand and Chris suddenly bent forth to stop her.
She mewled her complaint into his face when he lowered himself but the expectation of what was about to come kept her on fire. Chris pushed her back onto the mattress and climbed onto her, smiling shyly as his hand reached for her face and cupped her jaw.
"How about a condom?" He asked with the tone of a boy who was trying to confess a naughtiness to his mother. "I mean, you know..."
Claire placed her fingers onto his mouth and cut his attempt to speak, flicking her thumb lovingly over the bottom lip before kissing it. Sure, a part of her wished to feel him in all his natural glory once again, but, even being on birth control, she respected his desire, even if it was fired up by fear. All she wanted was for him to feel comfortable.
"Sure," she whispered and stretched her arm to the first drawer of the nightstand, where she fished out a string of condoms in only two attempts, carefully ripping the wrapper open with her teeth and pulling out the barrier that would safely avoid the direct contact between them.
Rolling upright, she let her lips meet Chris' in a long, hungry kiss as she pulled the condom over his waiting length, every inch joined by a soft stroke and a raspy moan. He twitched in her hand, warm and ready, and, instants later, he pushed her back into the cushions, teasing her with the same nerve-wracking patience she had shown him earlier. Her legs spread as soon as Chris ran his fingers from her belly button down to her spot, and he found his place to settle between her burning thighs. Before she could mewl in disappointment over the wait, he ran his hand up her body from the back of her knee to the freckled zone between her nose and ears. Fingertips brushed her cheek and hands felt his shoulders as he filled her with himself.
She cried out when their bodies united, amazed by the feeling of completeness invading her from below. Chris took a moment to assimilate the sensation, closing his eyes and exhaling, as though he'd been holding his breath in anticipation, as though he wasn't really believing it. And she wasn't believing it either. Claire's hand rose to touch his face, palpating the droplets of faint sweat that lingered between the stubble, and Chris turned to kiss her wrist without looking. A soft smile grew on his lips when he opened his eyes to her, and she wanted to tell him how much she loved him for it, but reconsidered. He knew it. His face said he knew it all.
Slow and careful, Chris began to move, and it was the most fantastic feeling she'd ever had, and the excitement over it escaped in the shape of a deep moan. Chris shifted his weight from his palm to his elbow, pressing himself tighter against her to give his mouth better access to her neck. Claire cried out when he nibbled on her soft skin.
Everything he did was filled with an incomparable passion, and every move of his felt like he had rehearsed it for her alone. Claire gasped, she pulled his hair, and Chris stroked along her waist and up to her breast, circling her nipple with his thumb until she panted and turned her face to his, kissing him once more. Her palm was pressed tightly against his chest, feeling his tense muscles move under her touch. She caressed him, running her hand up and down his skin, to his neck, back down to his stomach and his hip bone. They engaged in the rhythmic moves of two loving bodies, and the steady moves put a fine layer of sweat onto their skin. Chris made beautiful sounds that merged with the humid music of their sexes rubbing together, and she slowly felt the heat rise in her lower parts. When her brother slid his hand down to her clit and started massaging her, she knew for certain that she wouldn't have to wait much longer for the sensation to burst.
Chris came first, though, with a low, raspy breath that grazed her neck and covered her with warmth, tickling the sensitive spot playfully, The rub of his nose against her skin was meant to be a silent apology for not taking it slow enough. With her right hand still tousling his hair, she dug her fingernails into his scalp to press him downwards, until his mouth was in the perfect angle to suck on her right breast.
She felt him slip out of her, strap off and tie a knot into the condom before tossing it away — one handedly— with his right hand still eagerly working on her clit and inners. As soon as the rubber was disposed of, the rest of him was on her again, caressing, sucking and stroking so intensely that she wondered if he had grown another couple of arms only to please her. She bucked, she twirled, and she came screaming his name, a sound that was swallowed by his mouth on hers.
The kiss was boundless, the greatest way to end a fulfilling session of lovemaking. Claire cupped his jaw in her hands when their mouths collided, catching each other's breath as they tried to catch their own. Once their lips had finally parted, she looked into Chris' eyes, checking the impact of the aftermath, when the lust had vanished and only the slickness between them remained.
"Wow," she whispered as soon as voice and breath came back, and she was rewarded with a chuckle. Chris' eyes dropped closed and he gently lowered his head to her chest, kissing the skin under her clavicle before pressing his ear to her sternum.
' I love you ,' she thought again and drove her own heartbeat up. As though he understood the hidden meaning in the pounding, he laid his hand into her palm and entwined their fingers.
And there was nothing but peace.
It was the first night in what felt like a million that granted her something comparable to sleep. With Chris' arm slung around her shoulders, Claire finally found rest, finding out that she had never really needed anything else than that man by her side. Despite the revitalizing slumber, she woke up in the middle of the night, greeted by the darkness that still kept the two loving bodies hidden under its veil. She knew Chris was awake when she felt his fingertips brush her shoulder in a soft caress. Claire inhaled, mewling needlily before she turned her face to his chest and placed a line of kisses onto his pectorals. When she opened her lashy eyes and looked at him, she found a frown of concern lingering on his face, darker than the shadows of the night, and, afraid regret had invaded him again, she rolled to her elbow to inspect it more closely.
"You okay?" she whispered as two fingertips crawled to his chin.
His stare drove from the ceiling to her, but his expression remained unchanged, serious and unmoved, as his arm slung back around her. After humming softly, he turned his attention back to the ceiling as though he wanted to avoid her look when he said, "I want you to stop sleeping with Kennedy."
That was a surprise. Claire's eyebrows jumped up, bafflement and contentment barely containable. Her hand slid over his chest to his shoulder in a caring touch of protection while her leg entwined with Chris'.
"You want me to stop seeing other men?" she asked teasingly, running her knee up his thigh and making him shiver under her touch.
"Only Kennedy." He grunted too quickly and his eye twitched twice before he shyly looked back at her. "Is there anyone else?"
Her heart was hammering wildly in excitement. Was she sensing a hint of jealousy in her brother's petition, one that went further beyond the mere concern about his genes being wasted when mixed into the wrong bloodline? It didn't really matter, as the idea that she could be with anyone else was ridiculous now that she had him. Making a sound of want, Claire slowly moved her leg over his body and began to crawl into his lap, straddling him lovingly as she leaned down to kiss his lips.
"There has never been anyone but you, Chris," she breathed against his mouth. His own, big hands had already climbed down her back and were stroking her hips, moving further down the harder Claire nibbled on him. "Yes, I will be faithful to you."
She stopped teasing him and sat upright, watching a pleased smirk pop onto his lips. It wouldn't be hard for her not to give herself to men that weren't Chris. Her brother held her heart, after all, and there was nothing that made her happier than the fact that Chris Redfield himself wanted her to be his alone, but she had her terms.
"But I want you for myself, too."
No more Monicas nor Jessicas nor Laurens. No more nameless girls and women, prostitutes or not. No Jill and no Valentine ever again. After all those years of suffering, she damn well deserved to claim him for herself and if he had the guts to ask her to be for him alone, he was going to be hers, too. His look jumped across her face as though he wanted to scan her intentions to know what exactly he was signing up for, but there was no panic in it; unlike Leon if she'd ever asked him to be loyal to her.
"Okay."
Those words of Chris' put a smile onto her lips and Claire let out a silent squeal when she found that her biggest, forbidden wish was coming true.
"I love you, Chris," she said and gently rubbed her humid core along his dick, causing him to grow hard quickly. When his eyes fell shut in pleasure, her slender arm moved under the blanket and grabbed his length, stroking it a couple of times. Trying to lean down and kiss him, she was surprised he held her back.
They shared a second of silence and questioning looks before Claire relaxed, stopping her work on his length when Chris softly stroked her waist.
"There's something I need to know, Claire," he said with a grimace and startled her.
With an eager nod, she asked him to proceed, and her eyes followed his hands as they slid up and down her arms.
"About Wesker," he said, putting the ugly frown of unwanted memories onto her face. You said he manipulated you. What did he ...?"
A loving fingertip thumbed over his cheek, so beautiful and strong, and his words warmed Claire's heart. The redhead swallowed dry, biting her lower lip, and searched for a way to ease his concern.
"He didn't force me, Chris," she said and leaned down, putting her head against his chest, ear tightly pressed to the drum his ribcage was. "He never really asked me to do anything, actually. He just threw the lure and watched how I would react." Her eyes watered when more memories of the nights in the RPD came back very vividly, and the quiet sob she let out was enough for Chris to turn her face to him and shower her with concern. "I was too young and too stupid to see that he was just playing with me. Now I know that nothing would have happened had I just walked away."
Chris grunted as his fingers tangled in her hair, and she felt the slight shiver of sarcastic laughter form in his chest.
"He has done so much evil to the world." The muttered observation made her chuckle sadly and she shook her head.
"But not that," she whispered with a roll of her eyes at her own childish eagerness. "He never did anything I hadn't naïvely offered myself for."
Which made Albert Wesker a better person than herself, in that particular aspect. Chris inhaled and pulled her closer, holding her against this chest as he dropped back into the cushions and let the conversation about the former Captain die away.
"I should have taken better care of you, Claire," he said and placed a kiss onto her hair. "I'm so sorry for all the harm I caused you."
A weary sigh was blown onto his chest as she whispered, "It's not your fault, Chris. This is my own mistake. You were always there to protect me."
And even if he had done anything wrong, now he had a lifetime of chances to make up for it.
I think we know by now that it wasn't a lifetime, that it was never meant to be a lifetime. But even so, I am grateful for every second I got to spend with him. Because, you know, those nine months were the happiest of my whole life.
A/N: Thank you all for reading, even after the initial struggles these two had. It's not easy for them and I totally understand how excited some people get over this all. But, honestly, I wish you all a love like the one these two are currently starting, because after all the stuff that makes them human, there will still be the pure care for each other.
Okay, one of them still needs to figure things out.
Anyway. Stay safe.
X.