Chapter Text
SEPTEMBER 31, 1998
Dawn breaks through the cracks of the curtains, golden rays seeping through Jill's eyes as they flutter open. Normality will not return, this much she’s known since the mansion incident. Raccoon City, however, feels like a seal on the promise that her life will never be the same again.
Claire falls somewhere away from this strewn path set for her, the idea of her so far out of reach despite her softened features mere inches away from Jill, reddish hair carelessly tangled on the pillow. Fleeting and forever, the embers of a fire drifting away.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Claire wakes up to an empty bed, the soft covers feeling as alien to her as the warm body next to her. A sluggish idea crosses her mind that there’s something she’s supposed to do— something to get up for, but the thought slips away as sleep envelopes her again.
It’s an hour later that she opens her eyes again, when the weight of everything comes crashing down.
About twenty-four hours beforehand, a helicopter lands in the outskirts of a neighboring town to the now gone Racoon City. There must be police conducting interviews, an effort to help any remaining survivors, but none of them bother to check as they shed their equipment and stagger towards the roads.
She only curls in on herself on an empty bed surely lacking the warmth of another— the tang of a cigarette hangs faintly in the air, although Claire doesn’t smoke. The sheets are stained with blood and dirt. She picks idly at the filth under her fingertips before the light buzz of chatter from the television registers in her throbbing head, pieces of hair stuck to her forehead from the sheen of sweat and grime on her. Even sitting up leads to a quivering ache in Claire’s bones.
We continue with new detail on the Racoon City tragedy which unfolded in these past weeks, reaching an end as of yesterday from a nuclear strike to completely prevent the spread of infection. The CDC has issued an official statement concerning the population’s worries on this mysterious virus.
The last thing she expects is any sort of honesty on the subject at hand, confusion plaguing Claire’s face as she hears the poor, strewn out speech by a pale faced, grey man in a poor fitting suit intended to soothe the public. The question of how they will hide the branded stamp of Umbrella Corporation on the catastrophe escapes her as she knows who is missing from the apparently run down motel bedroom. She’s unsure if to knock on the bathroom door or not— wishing she hadn’t slept so late against her wishes, the exhaustion of barely escaping government sterilization of the city weighing deeply on her. Just don’t be weird about this, blue eyes barred onto the carpet dumbly. It feels so restless staying here, but the tension scolds her into not getting up and running.
Claire cannot claim to be a perfect woman— would the companionship of Chris’s past coworker prove to be useful to her goal? Of course. But Jill has grown to be interesting enough to her alone, unfortunately. Or not. Somehow already she’s begun to lose all her inhibitions around a certain set of dour yet gentle eyes. Something like embarrassment would cross her mind over this spiral, had she not been left in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. Looks like I’m picking up another type of journalism then the kind in my fucking major…
College. It seemed an infinite, impossible amount of miles away. What a shallow life on the other end of her reflection before Raccoon City remained for her. A strange feeling of displacement fills Claire as questions upon questions race through her head. Stumbling into a world Chris had separated her from led her into a liminality between her old and new self. Creased brows burrow nearly into her skull as she clutches the sheets in deep thought.
“Claire?”
Jill stands across from her, short, messily chopped hair still damp as she wipes it from her face. She smells like balmy hotel soap, noted by the younger woman as she comes to sit by the edge of the bed.
“Hey, supercop,” Claire amiably teases. A playful smile crosses Jill’s face, and it’s hard to return her stare as Claire swings her legs over the bed and becomes aware of the layer of blood, sweat, and filth caked onto her. An exerted sigh escapes her as she attempts to brush a knot out of her matted brown hair. “Don’t come any closer. Trust me, I probably smell worse than I look.”
“That’s why I couldn’t bear to be in bed with you for one moment longer,” Jill sarcastically groans as she sinks back down into the mattress. “What are they saying about the city?”
“That it had nothing to do with a certain pharmaceutical company that’s been paying the White House under the table. Do you think…Carlos absolutely didn’t know the truth?” Of course the question’s been prying at her mind, even if she feels guilty for having a hint of distrust if you look past his big brown eyes. Sometimes good people join bad causes.
Jill turns to face Claire, arms lazily draped above her as her face drifts into thought. “No. I don’t. Let me beat your brother to telling you something. Albert Wesker, he wasn’t just someone inspiring a few odd looks thanks to his offputting personality. He was a traitor to the S.T.A.R.S. team, through and through, working with Umbrella. My badge means as much as his, now. The rest of our squadron is dead or missing. As for your brother Chris, he left us all in the dark on purpose. But it’s not hard to assume his disappearance into Europe was to investigate Umbrella. Anyways, what I’m getting at is, there’s a certain spark in a liar’s expression you don’t see with him. Maybe it’s naivety or doubt, but he seemed as ignorant of Umbrella’s true intentions as I was with Wesker’s.”
Of course my brother wouldn’t just run away. It almost immediately clicks why Chris vanished without a trace, because he was trying to protect her. It must read on her face the realization, because Jill asks, “You still with us?”
A burning frustration churns in her gut, making Claire feel even more sickened without the help of an infected wound or two. “He’s always had to look out for me since our parents died. I know he’s trying to keep me safe, but what the fuck, Jill? He has to start trusting me enough to tell me what he’s doing.”
“I wish he asked for my help. That’s Chris, reliable until he thinks he knows the best for you.”
“I have to find him.”
“And go headfirst into Umbrella headquarters alone, getting yourself killed? You might’ve had a brush in with bioterrorism, but this is bigger than you know.”
Exasperation grips Claire tightly. “Then come with me. What do you have to lose? We can find out the truth about all of this once we find Chris.”
A pang of regret pierces Jill’s expression, and Claire knows she’s going to turn the offer down before she even speaks. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to find Barry to know if he’s alive, and I know Carlos can help me establish a lead on Nicholai before he goes. You can’t wait for me. I can’t stop you either, can I? I know Chris is your only family.”
“He is. I need to know he’s safe.”
Jill manages a smile at that. “He knows how to look after himself. I think you take after him.”
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
After practically shedding a layer of skin in a steaming hot shower, Claire emerges in her old clothes, no longer looking like someone dragged through the pits of hell. She lays out her remaining weapons on the table— a laughable collection of a police issued gun out of ammo and a pocket knife retrieved out of someone’s throat.
Okay. Get a flight, a firearm, and a clue. Claire frowns as she examines the strewn out post it notes and map on the wall.
“He’s a mercenary, not an employee, but working under Mikihial meant that he had an idea or two about Umbrella in Europe,” Jill’s voice rings from behind her.
“When was he here?”
“He just left. Apparently, they’re evacuating all the stray U.B.C.S who survived Racoon City. I hate to say it, but the situations not looking good for him if they know he escaped with me.”
“They’ll have to let him go. He served his time— and there’s no way someone like him can’t lie his way out of a situation.”
Jill gestures to the wall. “Chris has to be in the surrounding area of the European headquarters, or in them. Guess you better read up on your French.”
She scans the remaining hung up information— names and addresses. “Too bad I can’t get around in that helicopter. I have to get out of here soon. Preferably without a trace,” Claire declared. “Will I see you in Europe?”
“Chris is my partner. Where he is, I’m not far behind. Don’t wait on me, though. There’s red tape that needs to be taken care of once I get a hold of Barry. The closer I am to Raccoon right now, the easier it might be to track down traces of Umbrella.”
Of course. She needs to pick up where she left up, like I’m doing. What reason would she really have to stay with me? That’s the way it’s meant to be. This thing with Jill— doesn’t feel right if Chris is so close to her. She’s barely known Jill for 24 hours.
Almost always being considered a logical person, Claire still waits for her to turn and kiss her. Foolishly, of course.
“When I see you again, with Chris, I hope we get a proper introduction, Jill,” Claire murmurs, “Hopefully one where you’re not half dead in an alley.” She means it to come out as a joke, but they both know this marks where they begin to part ways.
Jill turns so that the two women are face to face, eyes tenderly meeting for a moment before Jill pulls her into a tight embrace, looping her arms around the other’s waist.
“I promise we will if you promise me to stay alive.”
Claire clutches onto Jill’s back, sinking into the embrace as they hang onto each other like they’re back in the dizzying smoke and flames of Raccoon City.
“I will.”
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
OCTOBER 2ND, 1998
Claire’s flown what, once in her life, clutching onto the arm of her older brother as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut as the plane skittered off the runway into the air. Chris chuckled at that. He smelled like cheap cologne and their father’s old hunting jacket.
She’s alone this time, carrying essentially nothing with her except the clothes on her back. Didn’t bother with the resignation email to her university. When she stops showing up, they’ll know she’s not coming back. Presumed to have not been left unscathed from the wake of the apocalypse in Raccoon. It doesn’t hurt to have the cover, considering what lies ahead of her is breaking into a private research and headquarters facility in another continent.
She doesn’t think she’s afraid. Her hands won’t stop moving as the plane takes off. A fear of flying sounds pretty stupid considering what she’s gone through. Keen to stop fidgeting, she digs her hands into her pockets. Strangely, she feels something in there. Smooth metal and the crinkle of paper are grasped in her hands as she pulls it out. There’s a note written in rough but familiar handwriting.
You might want to have this with you as a good luck charm, considering it made it through several catastrophes. Also, can’t return it if you’re dead.
Keep in touch, redhead.
- Jill
Jill’s silver necklace feels cool in her hands as a shy smile escapes her. Ugh. She isn’t even a redhead. The “carrots” nickname era was over for her as a teenager. It’s auburn brown.
Still, she loops the cord around her neck and fastens it.