Title: Memories That Matter

Fandom: Resident Evil (movie-verse)

Pairing: Alice Abernathy/Claire Redfield

Rating: Low R

Summary: Claire doesn't understand why Alice wants her to remember the past so badly.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil, or Ali and Milla (though I wish I did)

Notes: Takes place during Afterlife, after Alice finds Claire but before they meet the others at the prison. I rewatched the movies the other day and I realized how freaking great these two would be. This might be a little OOC, because Alice has more emotions than usual, but I feel like it's understandable in this situation.

XXX

Claire doesn't remember falling asleep.

However, she obviously had at some point, because her body finds awareness with a jolt. Her eyelids fly open, her muscles all tensing, air exploding from her lungs in a startled gasp. Immediately, instinctively, she listens for any signs of danger. She hears the sound of a fire crackling. Something in her chest tenses nervously as she recognizes the presence of someone else nearby.

As she pushes herself up on her elbow, Claire hears a voice from off to her left, "I heard you tossing and turning. I was about to wake you up. Bad dream?"

Claire's nervousness dissipates as she recognizes the voice, and she turns her body to face Alice. Her muscles groan in protest, displeased with the hard-packed dirt they had been forced to use as a bed. A dull throbbing echoes from six points in her chest, and with one hand she reaches up to feel the puckered places where the insect-like Umbrella device had been planted to control her.

Alice is crouching by the fire, carefully polishing the blade of a sharp hunting knife. She does not turn to face Claire, but the red-head can tell from the slight cant of her body in her direction that the older woman is focused more on her than the weapon, "Yeah. Bad dream."

"Remember anything?" Alice asks, slipping the knife into a holster on the side of her heavy combat boot. It takes Claire a second to register that the woman is not asking if she remembers the dream itself. She wants to know if the dream was an image from her past.

Swallowing thickly, Claire searches her brain, the images from the nightmare already crackling with static and fading into abyss. Quickly, she captures what she can and spills out, "Birds. There were...lots of birds. And people...died. And there was an explosion or a fire or something."

"Do you remember what caused the fire?" Alice asks, head whipping around now, interest suddenly piqued. Her blue eyes seem wild as they reflect the glow of the firelight. Claire feels like she should be nervous, but something in her completely trusts this woman she apparently used to know.

Weakly, Claire says, "No. I don't even remember what kind of birds they were, let alone something specific like that." Alice's eyes suddenly pale, and the tense interest in her shoulders seems to melt away slightly. Claire feels her stomach churn and anger bubbles up like acid in her lungs. It is not anger at Alice-it is complete anger at herself, for not being able to remember, and for disappointing the woman in front of her. The words tumble off her lips, and she hates how defeated she sounds, "I'm sorry, Alice."

Something in Claire tells her that apologies used to be something she gave out rarely. Alice seems to know this too, because she moves closer, in range to reach out and touch Claire if she so desired. Quietly, she says, "Don't be sorry. It's Umbrella's fault, not yours."

Claire feels her eyes burn, and it horrifies her. Tears? No. She can't cry. She's strong and yes, she's frustrated and confused and vulnerable without her memories, but she isn't weak. She cannot cry. Violently, she clears her throat, a trick someone (her mother? her aunt? an older sibling?) taught her at one point in time. The urge to cry surpasses some, but the corners of her lips still tug down slightly and her lower eyelids still feel warm and heavy.

"What if I never remember?" Claire says, surprising herself by letting the words slip past her chapped lips. The very real fear hangs in the air between them, cloudy and opaque.

Alice shakes her head, short and firm. Her voice is quiet yet determined, her teeth baring slightly, "You will. You will remember. It's just going to take some time."

"But what if time doesn't help? What if I forget everything forever? What then, Alice? What the fuck do we do then?" Claire did not intend for her voice to rise or to grow so vicious. But as she speaks, the reality dawns on her, and it is terrifying. She might never remember anything. She might be lost in this leaky darkness of her mind forever, swimming through nothing, trying desperately not to drown.

Alice grabs her shoulders so hard she winces. A strong desire to fight back pulses behind her achy sternum. She meets Alice's eyes, and the vivid, almost desperate passion in their swirling depths finally makes her just a little afraid. Alice nearly growls the words, "Claire Redfield, you will remember. I promise you. You have to."

"It was you wasn't it?" Claire manages, the images from her nightmare finally connecting into a bigger, clearer picture, "You started the fire that killed those...crows or ravens-I..I don't remember which. Why did you want me to remember that part so much? Why is that so important?"

Alice lets out what Claire can only call a whimper, and the weak sound surprises her. Alice is like a robot, and over the past few days, even when she laughed there was no real feeling behind it. But raw emotion fills every inch of Alice's face, and her voice crackles like the wood in the fire as she breathes, "I just want you to remember me."

Lips find Claire's, dry and cool. The red-head tenses, her muscles wanting desperately for her to push away from this unwelcome invasion of her boundaries. But something fuzzy surfaces in the endless depths of the black sea in her head. Images flash behind her eyes, so quickly she can barely comprehend them.

Hot desert nights, Alice's hand resting on top of hers as they keep watch over the caravan.

Gorgeous blue eyes, always there to meet Claire's when she desperately needs reassurance no one else can give.

Quick kisses behind trucks and out of sight, hidden from even the people they mean to protect.

Alice's fingers in between Claire's thighs, breathing worship into her ears as Claire swallows screams of pleasure.

The most fear Claire has ever felt as she sits in a helicopter, watching Alice slowly growing smaller as she stands on the dusty ground below them.

It suddenly makes sense. Why Alice so desperately wants her to remember everything. She had a relationship with this woman, and though Claire does not really understand the extent of it, she knows that Alice wants it to return. So she kisses back, her fingers finding Alice's short hair. She tugs at it, fingers raking through tangles roughly but not roughly enough to hurt the older woman.

Alice's tongue and teeth brush against Claire's lips. She can feel bruises forming under the soft membranes, and she lets it happen. Something about this feels distantly familiar, and she doesn't really want to stop. It's the best she has felt since Alice ripped the controlling device off her chest.

However, air finally becomes a necessity, and they part just enough to suck in oxygen. Alice's head drops to Claire's shoulder after she gasps in a breath, and her lips find Claire's neck. She drags her tongue through the hollow of the red-head's collarbone, then travels up the muscles and veins in Claire's throat, leaving licks and sucks and open-mouth kisses in her wake. A moan escapes involuntarily from Claire's chest, vibrating through both of their bodies. Alice sucks in a ragged breath then kisses Claire again. Their tongues duel for dominance, and Claire revels in the taste of the other woman. Strangely, she holds the flavor of strawberry ice cream (another memory returned), even though the dessert had been non-existent since the calamity of the apocalypse began.

Alice's hand tugs at the bottom of Claire's shirt, fumbling to free it from where it's tucked into her pants. She succeeds, and her lips drop back to the underside of Claire's jaw as she pushes her fingers underneath the fabric. Her hot, open mouth presses desperately to Claire's wildly beating pulse point. She scrapes her teeth along the skin, and her hand runs along the rises and falls of Claire's ribcage. The edges of short fingernails scrape Claire's skin and her whole body shudders.

The movement makes Alice smirk. Claire can feel it against the skin of her throat, and she moans when the other woman's tongue darts out to draw a line across her flesh. Alice repeats the action, drawing out another short, guttural sound. Her fingers dance up even higher, drawing along the curve of the cup of Claire's bra. Her palm slides up, cupping Claire's breast and kneading it carefully yet skillfully.

Claire knows then she needs to stop this. Now. While she can still think to do so. Her body is on fire, but she can't go through with this. She can't just give into the primal feelings. She wants to remember-maybe not everything, but more. It feels wrong to let Alice make love to her, when for Claire, the love part is not truly there.

Gently, she pulls away from Alice's kisses. Keeping her voice as level as possible through the breathlessness, she says, "Alice, please. Stop."

Alice's hand does not free itself from Claire's shirt, but the motions against her heaving chest stop. Something flickers in Alice's eyes. She looks desperately from Claire's face to the marks that must obviously be on her neck and the bruises on her parted lips, then back to her face again. Claire realizes that Alice fears that she has hurt her, and Claire immediately reaches out, gripping Alice's chin and running the pad of her thumb along the curve of the other woman's cheekbone, "You didn't hurt me. And I want this. You don't understand how hard it was for me to stop you just now. But I don't want it now. Not...not in this situation. I would feel dirty if I let you touch me like this with all of these feelings, and I don't return them. It would be like taking advantage of you."

The hand slides from under her shirt, and Alice stands with surprising speed, taking a step back, "Sorry. I don't know what came over me." Claire can hear the hurt in her voice, can see the way the words sting as Alice says them. She thinks Claire has no feelings at all. She thinks Claire harbors nothing, and the red-head realizes it.

Desperately, Claire says, "No. You don't understand. When you kissed me, I started to remember things. I used to love you, Alice." She says, knowing it's true. She could feel it in the memories when they returned to her, "Which means I can again. But I want it to be real. It won't be fair to you otherwise."

Alice is starting to understand, and her defensiveness falls again, "What did you remember?"

"That I could always count on you when being the leader got to me. And I remember how happy it made me to hold your hand and kiss you even though we hid it from everyone else," Claire says, meeting Alice's gorgeous eyes so she knows she means all of it. The younger woman decides to leave out the memory of Alice telling her how beautiful she was as Claire climaxed under the touches of her fingers. Maybe at a different time. Right now, she feels as though the memory will only hurt Alice more. Claire breathes out, "They were good memories and I want to unlock more of them before I'll be comfortable enough to have sex with you."

Alice scowls then, and her voice is bitter as she shoots Claire's earlier question back at her, "What if you never remember?"

"Then we start over. We get back to that point," Claire tells her, then stands as well, taking Alice's weapon-calloused hands in her own, "But let's start now. Tell me things that we did. Tell me your favorite memories of us. Maybe it'll trigger them in my head too."

Alice nods, pulling Claire back down to the ground. She sits with her legs crossed, and Claire settles beside her. Hesitantly, Alice reaches up, resting her strong arm over Claire's shoulders. Her body is tense, worried the motion will be denied. Claire does not really see the harm and she leans in, resting her head against Alice's chest. She can hear the thumping of the brunette's heart, can feel it against her cheek.

Quietly, Alice starts off the story about the first time they met. Claire settles in, closing her eyes and focusing on the woman's words, opening her mind so the memories can freely enter in.

Claire has no idea if it will work, if she will ever remember all of it. But at this point, she figures it's worth a try.

They have nothing left to lose.

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