「Chapter o3 : Raining Love」

[stygian_dream]

Leon S. Kennedy POV
Jessika Burnside's POV
✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥



I stare down at the elegant and flashy scribble, my expression bewildered. It's not the fact that the letter had been sent to me, it's that this time she's requesting to meet me. I look down at the blushing lipstick kiss which ends all the letters she's ever sent to me. She's been prone to giving me a little info here and there for cases I find myself working on, but this is the first time that—I fold the letter and tuck it into my pocket.

Suddenly, the phone rings. I check the number. Unknown Name. 000-000-0000. Probably some telemarketer trying to sell something. Regardless, I answer it, going on the bet that it isn't some nameless nobody with a strange accent from an anonymous country asking for your serial number.

"Hey there, handsome." The voice is distorted and sexless, but it's no question as to who it belongs to.

"How sweet. Not only do you send me a love letter, but you also call to check up on me." I reply huskily, the sarcasm drowning my tone. "I feel loved."

"Aren't we in a combative mood." The voice chuckles. "But, I can't blame you considering you stuck your nose where it didn't belong. What did you expect Leon? A gold medal for finding out that the politicians you're working for are dirty? After all, it is the politicians that give out those worthless things." All playfulness then disappears from her voice; she's all business now. "Meet me at the location specified in the letter at o-three hundred hours two days from now."

"And, you really expect me to show up?" I scoff.

"Of course you will, handsome. You're a hero, remember? You can't resist saving the world." The line goes dead.

----------

The restaurant is busy tonight. I see a lot of faces, most of them familiar, some of them new. My lips curl into a smile. Natalie is flirting again. Kristie has never liked the fact that Nat is primarily interested in the same sex. If anything, it makes our boss uncomfortable. Balancing the two trays of food easily in my hands as a throng of children rush by, I make it over to my current table. An old man and even older woman glare sourly at me. I grin politely, trying my best not to show my overly long canines.

"We've been waiting for our order now for thirty minutes." The ancient woman barks.

My expression is sickeningly sweet. "Well… that's technically not a waitress's fault. The cook is the one who determines when you get your food. The waitress just brings it out to you."

The woman's eyes, watered-down hazel, crinkle into slits. "You giving me lip, girl?"

I suppress the sudden urge to take her head off and press my lips together in a tight smile. "Of course not, ma'am. I'm merely stating a fact. I apologize that you mistook it for something it isn't."

"You're a sarcastic little witch, aren't you?"

I bite my tongue and place their food onto the table before them. "No ma'am."

The woman turns her nose up at me and I walk away as calmly as I can, which is pretty calm. Over the years, I've learned to manage my aggression fairly well. Life demands that sort of thing—the ability to adapt. Most humans are so lost in their own little self-involved cloud, never seeing what's really happening right under their noses. I guess that's how it is. I've always been acutely aware of things, even before Umbrella and Wesker. I reflexively don't believe what I hear or see as the final product of truth. Call it instinct. Call it an effect of the traumatic experiences in my life. Call it whatever you like. I know a lie when I hear one, especially my own. I force the thought from my mind and I go to get a bottle of water from the fridge in the hallway leading to the kitchen.

It comes as no surprise to me how gullible most people are, despite how bothersome it is. Nat is one of the few people I've met in my life that doesn't accept everything little thing she sees or hears as the final truth. She's the first and only person I came to trust after I had escaped and started working for Wesker. My choices in life have never been exactly easy. The nature of humans has only ever taught me to expect nothing and take everything. Call it a primal understanding of predatory dominance. I've never liked finishing second.

Out of the blue, I inhale a familiar and bittersweet scent. No way… The smell makes my blood boil and my heart secretly ache. I shake my head. It's just my memories is all… that's all. I've been having trouble with my nightmares more frequently now, the medicine having little to no effect on regulating my sleeping pattern. I've decided to resort to my old habits—staying up for days; then, crashing and being so tired that the nightmares don't reach me, nor do the memories. It doesn't stop some of the cuts and bruises when I wake up in the morning, though. For some reason, those wounds take a long time to heal.

"One of my tables is specifically asking for you as their waitress." Nat says as she walks up to me.

"Really?" I laugh.

"Yeah strange, I know. Considering you can be such a snooty bitch to most of your customers." She giggles.

"Now that guy last week doesn't count." I huff playfully. "He grabbed my ass."

"And, you didn't have to go smashing his nose."

"It was ugly anyway." I smirk. "If anything, I did him a favor."

Nat snorts. "Yeah, I'll have to agree with you there. P.S, your ass looks really good in those pants tonight."

I chuckle. "Can you get anymore lesbian?"

She grins. "Yes… if you want."

"I gotta go to work. Which table is it?"

"Table three." She replies with an edge of excitement. "There's some really nice scenery over there."

I roll my eyes and head toward the smoking section where most of the tables are empty, aside from table three. That's when my nose catches that familiar scent again. It's just my thoughts getting away with me. Is it?The lighting is darker in this section of the restaurant, but I can see a head of fiery red hair just above the top of the neighboring booth. Something about the color triggers a memory in my head. A trembling image of green eyes and a face stained with blood… a heart-wrenching howl

'Hey Jessie.'

I stop just short of coming up on the table, the tall back seat of the opposite booth still hiding its occupants. That wasn't my voice… in my head. I don't hear it anymore. It sounded like—I start toward them again, my legs a little shaky and my heart beginning to beat impatiently. Just as I reach the table, a pair of proverbial green eyes lock with mine and my jaw drops. "Steven?"

"Jessie." He smiles widely, flashing a pair of broader, more shark-like canines. "You look well. Your hair has gotten long."

Such pleasantries weren't Steve's MO. I roll my eyes. "Finally break out?"

"You can say that." Another voice answers from my right. I focus first on the golden blonde braid of hair that's snaking its way down the speaker's chest. Both of them… are now out

"Sherry." I smile, genuinely happy to see both of them. "How did you guys get here?"

"Look Jessie, we just want you to hear us out." Steve says carefully.

I'm about to ask what the hell he's referring to when I see the third occupant sitting in a shadowed corner of the booth. Short raven hair, smooth and meticulously chosen turtle neck blouse, fingernails painted and shining mahogany red—the epitome of a flawless China doll. My senses spike and my gut twists painfully. There are bags under her eyes signifying little sleep, a small dented scar just below her left eyebrow, and very faint frown lines beginning at the corners of her mouth. I inhale slowly; savoring her scent like a lion would a zebra. Li Na… To see her face again. To look into those sharp cat eyes—unwavering windows of cool efficiency. I glower at her, my lips pulling back into a vicious snarl. I can taste the venom seeping into my tongue. Steve senses my anger before he sees it and his hand wraps like a steel trap around my wrist. "Relax, Jess." His voice is gentle, but the hard undertone does not go unnoticed.

I set my fiery gaze on him. "What the fuck is she doing here?" I should have known that scent wasn't just a nostalgic memory. I glare back at her, feeling my fangs snap forward as if a snake in the midst of striking. They press against my lips, nearly drawing blood. "Whatever…" I yank my wrist from his grasp. "I've got work to do." My boots thump hollowly as I strode away, rage practically melting my skin.

"Jess," I hear Steve call. "Jess, wait!" His hand seizes my wrist again, warm… familiar. "Just… listen to what we have to say. Just… five minutes."

I jerk around. "With that soulless piece of shit sitting over there?" I hiss as I point toward her. "I'll pass. Besides, I've got to make extra on tips tonight." Great excuse, Jess. Like you need extra money.

Steve purses his lips incredulously at me. "As if you need the extra money. You never liked being a leech in other people's wallets." He then grins boyishly at me summoning a secret tenderness to my heart.

I force the want to smile deep into my gut. "Look big brother, I can't help you. I'm sorry." I turn to walk away when his grip tightens.

"Please Jess." He holds my eyes, his own sea green orbs flickering desperately. "We need you. You've worked with Wesker the last 3 years. You've seen those shadows, the faces of the players no one else sees."

I look away, focusing on Natalie as she flirts with a pixie of a girl who just came in. I hadn't heard from Wesker in days. His wellbeing doesn't worry me, but the fact that he is my only way of maintaining my supply of vaccine does. I swallow dryly and glance back at Steven, easily hiding my anxiety. "What about it?"

His lips drag down at the corners. "Wesker is dead, Jess. He was eliminated at o-five hundred last Monday."

Twelve days dead, huh? Well… isn't that just peachy. I jerk my wrist from his hold, pull a dish towel from my apron, and begin cleaning one of the tables. "So?"

Steve leans toward me. "He's been your only source for that vaccine, hasn't he?"

I stop, my body tensing defensively. "Is that what you think, big brother?"

"Don't do that!" He whispers sharply. "What's happening in Egypt and Lybia right now is no accident. They are setting their pieces aren't they?"

I smirk. "What do you think, Stevie boy?"

His eyes darken. "This isn't a game, little sister."

My smirk breaks into a carnivorous grin. "Oh, but it is. Wesker's death was no mishap. He'd gotten too big for the britches they'd given him."

"He was taken out by operatives of the B.S.A.A."

I chuckle. "They own the B.S.A.A. along with all its operatives."

Steve watches me for a moment. "Jess… we need all the help we can get."

I glare back at the table where they sit, my eyes lingering on those cool hazel orbs, that feline ghost of a smile. My heart ignites into a hateful flame. "The world has been coming to a head ever since we made a deal with the devil. This charade had the end sometime."

Steve stands there for a moment, both of us sizing the other up. "You should hide those things before someone sees." He says finally.

I roll my tongue along the needle-like points, tasting the bitter sting of venom again, and smile broadly. "Do you think I might scare someone, big brother?"

"I think you've missed me and Sherry and you want to party with us one last time." He opts for a more playful way of begging.

I snort. "Hmmm… it does sound tempting, but I don't fare well with soulless pieces of shit. Sorry." I turn away and commence cleaning again.

Steve is silent for a moment. I sense him looking between her and I, his expression lining with exhaustion. "I don't know all that went down with you and your sister, but we need you, Jessie." He leans close to me. "You are still family and families stick together."

He's walking away before I have time to even retort. I make sure not to let him catch me looking after him as he sits back with the little group in that dark corner of the restaurant, hidden from prying eyes. Natalie dances up beside me, her face beaming. "Who was that cutie, anyway?"

I inwardly grimace. "No one…"

She pouts. "He didn't seem like no one."

"Why because you think he's cute?" I laugh.

"No!" she cries indignantly. "Well, he is cute, but I'm more interested in that blonde goddess sitting beside him." I glance back to catch her eyeing Sherry as if she were the last drink of water on earth.

"You couldn't handle her, Nat." I say as I toss the dirty rag into the bend behind the bar.

"Pssh! You don't know that!" She grins wolfishly, but in her case, she looks like an innocent little chibi. If anything, it actually looks scarier.

"Trust me, Nat. You couldn't handle her."

She ignores me. "What's her name?"

I sigh exasperatedly. "How should I know?"

I feel her grinning as I snatch a spare broom and begin sweeping. "Because you do."

"Look… it doesn't matter, okay? Just drop it." I say a bit more harshly than I intend.

She's quiet for a moment.

"Nat…" I stop sweeping. "They are a part of my past I want to forget… okay?"

"So… they are like you?" She steps closer, her voice a low whisper. "They are another by-product of Umbrella's tampering?"

I roll my eyes at her. "Thanks for making us sound as if we aren't human."

"Oh, sorry." She immediately apologizes.

"Don't worry about it." I begin sweeping again.

"They are really looking at you now." She remarks before she dances off again to take an order from one of her many tables.

I inhale slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose and closing my eyes. A part of me wants to run and embrace Steve and Sherry, call them family, and stand with them. However, another part of me is too jaded to care. I'd grown jaded a long time ago, really… but, I still wanted to change things, to make a difference. I'd had the hero syndrome. When I'd escaped from Umbr—Tricell, I'd learned how dependent I was on the very thing that had destroyed what I love. Wesker had found me. I'd been near death, choking on my own blood and vomit; He'd made a deal. I'd been desperate and I never swayed from him. To hold someone by the balls, to be the only one with the key to their salvation—I'd say that's a fine way to keep them in line.

"They're leaving." I catch Natalie's scent as she moves past me, untying her apron and hanging it on a hook at the back wall. "I'm going on break, okay?"

I nod absently as I sneak a look at Steve and Sherry. My eyes meet hazel and my back stiffens. She watches me, the usual feline arrogance gone from her face. There is something else there; something that makes my skin hot and my predatory instinct boil—remorse… sympathy? Since when has the turncoat ever suffered guilt or compassion? My muscles coil and tighten like a rubber band stretched to its limits, ready to snap… to engage. I pour all the hatred I possess into my glare, whetting it to a finely honed tip. She does not drop her gaze. She does not look away, not until they are out the door, immediately becoming drenched by the rain. A man suddenly bumps passed them dressed in a beige-colored coat, his tawny hair chaotic and seeming several shades darker than normal. But, the color of his eyes catches me off guard. Arctic green.

Something about him, though… I don't like it. Putting away the broom, I head behind the bar and turn my back to him, busying myself with dirty glasses and spilt beer bottles. A fellow waitress, Bethany, walks up to greet him. I peer at him through my curtain of ebony bangs. He's attractive and holds his own well, strong but not needing to throw it around. Confident but not conceited. I warily sniff the air, differentiating all the smells. I can pick out a keen whiff of cinnamon. The smell is new. It has to be his cologne. He smiles politely to Bethany, his lips hugging over his teeth very nicely. Abruptly realizing what I am doing, I force a glass bottle into the trash, shattering it. "Shit."

Thankfully, no one takes notice. I have a look at the damage and pick the few pieces of glass from my palm. The sting is minimal compared to the heat gathering in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly, his blood, soap, and cinnamon bouquet is intoxicating. I lean against the trash bend, my nails biting into my left hand. "Keep it together, Jess." I can feel the heat gathering behind my eyes. I immediately clamp them shut. Focus, focus, focus, focus. Over and over, a dull and annoying mantra in my mind.

"Well, it's raining like cats-and-dogs out there, so I decided to take a break in here." Nat's voice jars my thoughts.

"Great." I grind out.

She walks up to me, leaning onto my back. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing." I growl.

Natalie is instantly around my side, finding my bloody right hand and my trembling eyelids. "What happened? What's wrong?" she whispers frantically.

"Him," I mutter painfully, nodding toward the man. "I need to get out of here."

She nearly has to stand on her tip-toes to wrap her arm around my shoulders. "Come on, let's go to the ladies room."

I keep my eyes clamped shut, trusting her to be my guide. Before long, I am greeted by the stagnant smell of public bathroom. It's a welcoming odor. I inhale deeply, my insides already beginning to cool. I let my ears intake all the sounds in the room. We are alone. Good. The sink is dribbling with water. Still broken? One of the toilets is still running water, too. When is the boss ever going to fix this place? I smile softly.

"Now, what the hell happened?" Nat questions as she grabs some paper towels. I glance at her and she instantly understands. "Just stay in here until you cool down. I doubt we could fool anyone into thinking you wear iridescent contacts."

I chuckle huskily. "You might be surprised."

She grins as she swabs the blood from my already mending hand. "I don't doubt that, but I do find it unfair how fast you heal."

I snatch the paper towels away from her with my other hand and press it to my palm. "Let's just be glad my blood isn't contagious." Yet… if I don't get more of that vaccine

Natalie reads the faint worry lines on my face. "He's dead, isn't he?"

I turn away. "I've never liked getting you more involved than you have to be, Nat."

She laughs. "I get myself involved, Jess. Now… tell me."

"Yes." I sigh. "He's been dead for the past twelve days."

"How are you supposed to get the vaccine now?" She gazes anxiously at me through the long mirror above the sinks.

I look at myself in the mirror. "That's a good question."

She turns me toward her. "Can they help you, Jessie?"

"No." I bristle.

Nat takes the blood-stained mess of paper from my hands and tosses it in the trash. "Who are they to you Jessie? You've told me a lot about your past, but it's so hard to get it out of you. I'm your friend. I think I've proven myself loyal for the past four years; don't you think?"

"Guilt-tripping me?" I smirk.

She laughs. "Yup. Now, tell me Jess."

I release a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "They are my family. Well, two of them are."

She cocks an eyebrow. "One of them looks close enough to be your sister, the classy Asian with hellacious hips. "

My hands ball into fists. "Never."

Nat scrutinizes me for a second. "She's your blood sister isn't she? The one that abandoned you?"

My eyes flicker with heat. "Yes… but she is not family to me."

Nat decides to change angles. "Who was the red-haired guy?"

"Steve Burnside, my legally adopted brother. Then again… neither of us exists… legally."

She chuckles. "Okay, now who's the hot blonde that'd been sitting beside him?" Her eyes reveal keen interest.

"That's Sherry Birkin. She'd been in our group back at Umbrella, or Tricell now."

Nat's eyes widen. "Birkin! I remember my family mentioning that name. William Birkin, right? That had been her father."

I nod. "He'd made the discovery of the G-Virus."

"Yeah, I remember my mom talking to my dad about it years ago when I was still too little to question their line of work." She looks away for a moment, reliving a memory perhaps.

The door to the bathroom suddenly bursts open. "Jessika! What the hell are you doing in here? You're supposed to be waiting on your tables." Our cow of a manager snaps, her beady eyes appearing even beadier behind those ridiculously thick bifocals. "And, Natalie, your break was up six minutes ago."

Nat grins sweetly. "Glad you were keeping up, Kristie."

"We have never been on a first name basis. You will call me: boss or Mrs. Gibson." She then glowers at me. "And you, I've had about enough of your bullshit. You leave suddenly; you're never where I need you, and you've been arrested in front of my customers on three separate occasions. I don't have any more patience for you. You're fired."

I snicker coolly. "I never liked it here anyway."

Kristie slams the door behind her. I catch the tale-end of a string of curses. Natalie looks to me and giggles. "You sure have a way with women."

"Is that so?" I whisper saucily.

She slaps my ass. "Hell yeah! I've been trying to tap that for four years now." She leans in close enough that our lips are almost touching. "And, you're one hell of a tease. It's not fair." She pouts playfully.

"Well, I can't help that sort of thing." I purposefully let my lips brush hers.

She jumps back and crosses her arms. "Straight women who are dynamite teases just suck. Period!"

I wink at her. "I just couldn't help myself, Nat. You were asking for it."

"Pssh!" She flounces dramatically out the bathroom door.

The room falls silent accept for the occasional dripping of water. I walk over to one of the sinks and brace against it, letting my head dip forward. The tickle of my bangs is annoying, but I'm too exhausted to care. I turn on the sink. Sleep tugs at the corners of my vision. I blink rapidly and splash my face with the cold water. A chill seizes my body and I shiver awake. Leaning my forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, I close my eyes and breathe evenly. It's really kicking in now. I swallow thickly, my tongue seeming sluggish. If I'm not careful, I'll crash too hard. Prior experience has taught me to definitely avoid that. The nightmares are far more vivid and far more real. I open my eyes. The telltale blue is finally fading away, leaving me eyes their typical mismatched brown.

I hear footsteps approaching the restroom. It's Natalie. I whip the dampness from my forehead and turn to the door just in time for it to open. Nat's expression is on the verge of panic.

My senses heighten instinctively. "What's wrong?"

She hurries up to me. "The guy that had set off your prey/sex-me radar… He's looking for you. And, he's not typical police either. He's F.B.I."

My skin freezes. Without Wesker to clean up the few tiny messes I'd made in the past, I'm blown open and left to handle this on my own. What I wouldn't give to be able to pull strings. My heart is hammering in my chest. What could he want?

"When I came in here, he was walking over to Kristie." She exclaims breathlessly.

"Oh, shit!" My heart plummets. Escape! I snatch her hand and make for the door.

"We can sneak out the back entrance if we hurry." She murmurs.

I nod and we move slowly out the door. The guy is already talking to Kristie… and she's just pointed toward us, her eyes brimming with disdain. I yank Nat with me as I bolt down the rear corridor, the shadows heavy on our backs. Thankfully, the only thing illuminating the hallway is a bunch of black lights. We burst out the back door and take off down the vacant alleyway, into the night.