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July 2011



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mercurybard in mercstales

Hands on My Girl

Title: Hands on My Girl
Fandom: Resident Evil: Afterlife
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Resident Evil belongs to Anderson, not me. Just playing in the sandbox.
Pairings: undercurrents of Alice/Claire
Word Count: 480
Notes: Spoilers for the first, oh, third of the movie.

It was Claire under the dirt and the grime, no matter how much she spit and snarled and threatened to rip Alice's throat out with her bare hands. Alice dropped the silver and red insect-thing in the dirt and ground down on it with her heel. The ruby carapace shattered, exposing the electronics beneath. Bending down, she sifted through the bits with her fingers. Just electronics, no fluids. So it wasn't a serum that had been controlling Claire. Maybe some sort of electrical current?

Looking at Claire again, it was clear that she had been living rough for quite some time. Maybe even the whole six months since Alice had seen the chopper fly off for Alaska and the supposed Promised Land. If the device worked via drugs, it would have run out long ago. Instead, it had somehow kept her mindless and angry, just surviving in the Alaskan wilderness. Her clothes were torn and filthy, and the gauntness in her face made her look half-starved.

Alice kicked dirt over the remains of the device and crouched down in front of Claire. "You're a mess."

"Untie me, and we'll see how big a mess I can make of you," Claire snarled.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Alice said, not for the first time.

"The bump on my head says otherwise."

"You attacked me--I was just defending myself. Now, hold still so I can clean you up a bit." The water in the coffee can by her foot was ice melt, not sea water, and Alice dipped the corner of a rag into it. Claire tried to jerk her face away when Alice brought the rag to it--leaving a clean streak across the bridge of her nose--but Alice caught her chin and forced her to be still. She might not have the T-virus' enhanced strength anymore, but she was still strong.

Carefully, she started around Claire's eyes and mouth, wiping away the dirt. Ideally, she'd have soap for this, but there was very little in this world that was ideal. There was grime caked in the corners of her nose and in the creases of her neck. The skin beneath the rag was weather-beaten and chapped from exposure, but Alice still had to fight the urge to brush her hand across it instead of the rag. Six months since the chopper had lifted up and taken Claire and the others away, and this was the first contact she'd had with another human since.

"Why are you doing this?" Claire asked when Alice pulled the rag away to rinse it out.

"Because you're filthy," Alice answered. She pushed aside tangles of greasy hair to clean the shell of Claire's ear. "And because whether or not you remember, we are friends." As close to friends as Alice could have in this virus-addled world anyway. "And because I've missed you."