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[Fic] Going to Ground - Guns, cuffs, and tattoos

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September 2nd, 2010

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11:34 pm - [Fic] Going to Ground
Title: Going to Ground
Fandom: Resident Evil
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Characters: Rebecca Chambers, Jill Valentine
Pairings: BxB hinting (thus why i feel comfortable posting this here.  If this isn't allowed, I'll remove.)
Genre: General
Length:  700w
Summary: Several months after the events in Arklay, things come to a head for
the remaining members of the S.T.A.R.S. For Rebecca Chambers, the final straw
has been broken.

September 25, 1998

Her world was a mess; tossed like the aftermath of an earthquake and about as fucked, in the scheme of things. Standing in the doorway, Rebecca surveyed the damage with the cold eye of a woman who knew that there was no way in hell she'd be getting her security deposit back. Jill hissed behind her, and she glanced up to see the taller woman peering in over her shoulder.

They exchanged a look, and then, gun drawn, Rebecca took the first step into the room.

Whomever the attackers had been, they didn't seem to care much about covering their tracks. In fact, Rebecca noted as she inspected the shredded couch, some of the damage seemed outright malicious. Frustration perhaps, she speculated. Careful not to walk over the broken glass shattered from the picture frames which had been on the mantle, Rebecca circled around to the back hallway, toward the bedroom.

Jill remained quiet at her back until they'd checked the entire apartment. When no assailants leapt out at them, and they found no threatening notes or traps, the pair checked their weapons and began to salvage what they could.

Rebecca didn't dare to say a word as she carefully pulled family photos from the wreckage. Her hands shook, though with fear or rage she couldn't say. From the split contents of her closet, she extracted a single duffel bag and began to round up what important documents and clothes she could find. Most of her life would have to stay behind, she realized with a gut-twisting pang.

Whatever Jill thought about the situation, Rebecca couldn't read from the woman's face. She helped Rebecca to dig with stony silence, just the same as she'd been since they'd found her own apartment done up in similar fashion. There was no doubt in Rebecca's mind who the vandals were; it was obvious, really.

When the duffel was ready to burst at the seams, Rebecca forced the zipper closed and slung the strap across her shoulders. She gave a nod to Jill, who lead the way back out to the hall. They continued in silence to the stairwell and down the three flights to the ground floor. No one met them on the way, yet Rebecca couldn't help but feel a sitting duck the entire time.

Once outside, and loaded into the Mazda Jill had rented--neither of them trusted their vehicles at this point--Rebecca heaved a sigh as she buckled her seat belt. Jill hummed in agreement and the car grumbled to life with a twist of the key.

"Are you sure you're going to stay?" Rebecca asked when they were a few blocks from the apartment. Jill gave the barest of nods.

A few moments later, she nodded once more and scrubbed a hand through her long, dark hair. "I'm sure. If you're thinking that I blame you, I don't."

"Well, I didn't before..."

Jill chuckled and brought the car to a halt at a red light. "I meant that, though. I don't. If I were in your place, I'd do the same."

Rebecca chewed her bottom lip as she thought that over. A part of her didn't agree, of course, but the rest... "Thank you," she murmured and from the corner of her eye caught Jill smile. They didn't speak again until after they'd gotten to the greyhound station and Rebecca's bus had begun to board.

The older woman caught Rebecca in a firm, quick hug, which she gladly returned. "Be careful," Rebecca told her. With Jill's assurances still ringing in her ears, Rebecca boarded the bus and found a seat at the very back. From there, she would at least have a good view of trouble coming her way.

As the bus left the city proper, Rebecca reached under the neckline of her shirt to pull out the thin chain hidden there. The warm metal of the dog tags didn't soothe the warning goosebumps on her skin, but they did offer some comfort against the voice screaming "coward" in the back of her head.

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