Chapter Text
"You could just slap a signature on my assignment, and I’d be done with it, you know."
Chris doesn’t even bother looking at her, just keeps his hands on the wheel and eyes on the road. She doesn’t know why she even tries, her brother’s a difficult one to crack. "We’re not gonna fake your field hours. Shadowing me gets it done clean, end of story."
Beside him, Claire leans against the passenger door like she’d rather be anywhere else, her boot tapping a restless rhythm against the floor.
She groans. "Shadowing you? It’s basically just following my big brother around while he fills out paperwork. Sends fines. Eats donuts. I don’t know what you guys do for fun."
"Come on, you’ll see more than paperwork." His voice stays flat, but the corner of his mouth twitches. "Patrols, procedures. It’ll give you something real to write about."
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. "And you’re sure this isn’t just an excuse to keep me on a leash for a week?"
Chris smirks faintly. "That too."
Claire kicks her boot against the glove compartment, grinning. "You’re the worst."
"The worst? That’s funny," Chris says, just as he takes a turn into the RPD parking lot. "Because I was about to say I might take you to the shooting range this week."
That gets her to sit up a bit straighter. "Wait, seriously? You can’t just dangle that in front of me."
Chris parks the car, then cuts the engine. "Of course I can."
"Unbelievable," she mutters, unclipping her seatbelt. "Abuse of power, that’s what this is. Someone should report you."
"Sure," Chris says. "Look, I need you to at least try to take this seriously. No wandering, no smart stunts, alright? Just stick with me."
"So no making friends?"
"Claire."
"Okay, okay, got it."
Inside, the station is busy with phones ringing in the distance, footsteps echoing over the polished floor, and the chatter of various voices. Claire’s immediately greeted with a big hall, tall arches stretching all the way to the ceiling. Her gaze keeps getting drawn towards a statue in the center of the room, right between the stairs.
She slows down without meaning to. It’s… impressive, she can’t deny that, and curiosity’s slowly getting the better of her. Might as well do this assignment right if she’ll be stuck inside here for the next few days anyway.
There are plenty of people around, most of them officers dressed in blue, looking real self-important. She’s just about to ask Chris if she’s allowed to get her so-called tour started when someone collides with her brother.
A young man with his nose buried in a notepad nearly trips over his own feet. He fumbles out an apology before he quickly turns around, and Claire has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the way the guy’s eyeing her brother now. He’s young, might just be a few years older than her, but already has his mask of professionalism back on when he dips into an office after his little detour of swerving and swooning.
Claire looks back at Chris, but he doesn’t even acknowledge the scene, just keeps moving like he didn’t notice, which, honestly, has her hold back a comment even more. She’s so going to bring this up later.
They head deeper into the building, Chris walking along the corridors with quick strides. Claire trails behind him, trying to catch a glimpse of the rooms.
A few people glance at her curiously, but Chris simply introduces her as Claire, my sister, and that’s that. She tells him that she’s capable of introducing herself, thank you very much, but he just raises a brow at her and keeps walking.
By the time they reach the STARS office, Chris’s pager has already buzzed twice at his hip. He mutters something under his breath, sounding annoyed already. Great, Claire will get to spend the day with a moody Chris. Sure is looking promising already, all this.
The office door swings open, and Chris holds it for her before his attention is dragged back to the pager again. She looks around the room as she steps inside, which doesn’t look all that special at first glance. It’s a typical office, desks neatly arranged, the rustling of paper, and occasional quiet chatter filling the silence. The only interesting thing is a bulletin board she catches a glimpse of, filled with pinned pictures and notes. Definitely gonna sneak a few discreet looks at that later.
The desk right next to Chris’s is occupied by a woman who seems fully absorbed into reviewing a stack of what looks like some kind of reports, pen tapping in quiet rhythm. When Chris approaches, she glances up.
"Redfield," she greets with a nod and an easy smile. Then her eyes flick to Claire, now standing half a step behind him. "Didn’t tell me you’d bring a guest today. Would’ve gotten out the fancy coffee."
Claire’s seen pictures of her here and there, photographs that Chris keeps around of various missions he’s been on, some of which featured the woman now looking her up and down with icy blue eyes.
The Jill Valentine—her brother’s partner, extremely skilled and competent, according to him. Something about being good at lockpicking—Claire’s never really listened much when he’d started raving about things that weren’t one of his missions. Now she can’t help but regret that.
Jill’s not in full gear, just a light-blue shirt with the STARS emblem on it, sleeves short enough to show lean muscle. Her brunette hair is cut into a short bob, one side tucked behind her ear, some loose strands brushing strong cheekbones and a defined jaw.
And then those eyes flick back to Claire, assessing and curious, lingering just a second longer than polite. Claire suddenly feels too casual in her jeans and leather jacket and slips her hands into her pockets. Usually, she’s plenty confident, but something about the woman in front of her makes her nerves flare up.
She almost jumps when Chris squeezes her shoulder. "My sister, Claire. She was supposed to shadow me this week for a college assignment. Criminology, you know the drill. And Claire, this is Jill Valentine, my partner. I’m sure I’ve told you about her."
Claire pulls out one of her hands and raises it in a mock wave. "Hey."
"Was wondering when I’d finally get to meet Chris’s little sister." Jill’s gaze lingers on her for another moment before she looks back at Chris. "Wait, supposed to?"
Chris exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "Chief just paged me, briefing I can’t skip."
"Really?" Claire scoffs. She’s barely even started the assignment, and it’s already tanking. "At least give me your keys so I can get home."
"Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. Just need someone to cover until I’m done." Chris says, then clears his throat. "Jill?"
Jill leans back slightly, crossing her arms. Her eyes narrow at Chris, and Claire’s suddenly glad she’s not the one on the receiving end of that look. "You’re serious."
"I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t." He gestures toward Claire. "She just needs to see the basics for today. Tour, maybe some procedure."
"You see this?" She says, pointing at a stack of papers on her desk. "Have to work through all these reports today. Really not the best time."
Chris pinches the bridge of his nose. "Come on, Jill, just for a day."
Jill sets her pen down slowly. "Babysitter wasn’t in my job description."
Now that’s just rude.
Claire can’t hide the frown on her face. "Good thing I don’t need a babysitter."
Chris runs a hand through his hair. "You two haven’t even known each other five minutes." He looks at Jill, desperate. "Please. I owe you."
Jill sighs. "Fine. But you take half of these off my hands," she says, grabbing half—okay, maybe a bit more—of the reports and dropping them on Chris’s desk.
"Deal." Chris says with relief, then points at Claire. "And you—behave."
Claire smirks. "You make it sound like I’m some kind of criminal."
"Uh-huh. Just hope Jill doesn’t ask about those speeding tickets of yours," Chris grins, then hides a laugh when Claire lightly shoves him.
Jill stands up smoothly, and Claire notices that the woman’s ever so slightly taller than her. "Alright, looks like you’re with me."
Claire smirks at her. "Guess I’m in good hands, Officer Valentine."
"The best," Chris adds before he’s through the door.
Right after he’s left, Jill studies her for a moment, and Claire thinks she catches the faintest twitch of amusement in the corner of her mouth, but it’s gone before she can be sure. Then Jill strides for the hall, leaving Claire to scramble after her. For someone who just got stuck with babysitting duty, she sure doesn’t waste time.
Claire clears her throat. "So, you my brother's partner or his partner?" Is the first question she asks as she’s following Jill down a corridor.
The woman looks back at her and raises a brow. "Seriously?"
Claire shrugs, feigning innocence. "Not your type?"
"That’s kind of inappropriate to ask, isn’t it?"
"Just making conversation," she mutters, because, yeah, Jill’s probably right, but Claire’s also never had any difficulties with being direct. And she’s been curious about the mysterious woman her brother talks so highly about.
"Isn’t making conversation with a stranger usually more like nice weather we’re having or something like that?"
"Didn’t take you as one for small talk," Claire replies. "But sure, the rain’s real nice today."
She doesn’t see Jill’s expression after that and lets the slightly awkward silence settle for now, instead studying the woman while they walk. Jill’s got that cop posture, back straight, confidence apparent in the way she carries herself. Claire’s gaze gets stuck on the holster resting low against her hip before she tears her eyes away from it.
"You always this quiet on tours?" she asks then, quickening her pace until she’s walking beside her. "Y’know, usually those guides talk your ear off about history and whatever."
"Depends on the company." Jill’s tone is even, but there’s the faintest hint of some humor slipping through. "And you? Do you talk this much in class?"
"Depends," Claire echoes. "Are you grading me?"
"You already wouldn’t pass," Jill says, a smirk tugging at her lips. For a moment, Claire’s caught off guard by the expression.
"Ouch. I’m sure I could convince you, though." Well, she really didn’t think about how that would sound. Maybe Chris is right when he says that her mouth’s quicker than her brain.
And for a second Claire swears she sees Jill’s eyes widen before she looks away, shakes her head, and pushes open the door at the end of the hall.
Right. Focus.
"This is the records room," Jill says, then steps aside.
Claire nods as she slips past her. Metal shelves line the walls of the room, stacked with folders and cardboard boxes marked with ink that’s already half-faded.
"So this is where the magic happens, huh?" she says, leaning against a cabinet and looking around.
"Hey, it’s not all car chases and shootouts," Jill answers, following her inside. "Someone’s gotta do the paperwork."
Claire gets started on her notes, jotting down a few quick bullet points. "That’s kind of comforting, actually. My brother always made it sound like you were all out there wrestling criminals every day."
"Some days, sure," Jill says lightly. "Today? All I’m wrestling is paperwork. And a college student, apparently."
"Ah, tragic fall from grace," Claire says with a laugh, pretending not to feel the heat creep up her neck.
"Tell me about it."
They leave the room a few minutes later, Jill holding the door open again, and as they walk back toward the stairs, Claire catches sight of a closed door off to the side.
"And what about over there?" she asks, pointing in the room’s direction.
"Got a dark room in there for developing film," Jill replies. "Restricted, sorry."
Claire tilts her head, now even more curious. "What, afraid I’ll find all your secrets?"
"More afraid that you’ll end up writing your notes from a holding cell," Jill says, making her way back up the stairs.
"You’d arrest me?"
"Try me."
Claire snorts. "Might actually be a good addition to my assignment. Experiencing both sides and all that."
That earns her a quiet laugh, and she almost misses a step and trips over her own feet.
"Speaking of both sides, got an idea what I’ll show you next," Jill says, a bit more relaxed now.
Claire glances around as Jill unlocks a security door right next to the STARS office, a keypad beeping as she slides her ID into the reader. Inside, the space looks like something straight out of a crime documentary, long metal shelves stacked with sealed bags and boxes marked with what she can only assume are case numbers.
"Wow," Claire says under her breath, genuinely intrigued by what she’s seeing. "Evidence?"
"Yeah, not something you usually see." Jill steps ahead.
She keeps walking, peering into one of the boxes at the front of the room, trying to see what’s inside.
Jill turns, then gestures to the shelves on the wall. "This way. You can take notes if you want, just don’t touch anything."
"Yes, Officer Valentine," Claire teases, glancing at an evidence case and already scribbling down details.
"Jill’s fine," the woman corrects.
"Claire," she says in return, finishing up her notes. "Redfield makes me feel like Chris."
That damn assessing look is back on Jill’s face again, and this time when she speaks, her voice is lower. "Claire, then."
It’s ridiculous, Claire thinks, to be thrown off by the way someone says her name, but it suddenly feels so different when Jill’s the one saying it. It also doesn’t help that she becomes aware of how close they’re standing in the cramped space between shelves, close enough for her to catch the faintest hint of Jill’s perfume.
It’s really time for her to get a grip now. She’s in a damn evidence room of a police station, supposed to be taking notes, this isn’t the time to develop a stupid crush on the officer showing her around. Or, well, if anything, it’s just a fascination. Professional curiosity. Still shouldn’t.
"Alright," Jill says, seemingly oblivious to Claire’s internal crisis. "Think that’s enough sightseeing for one day."
"Already?" Claire follows her, recognizing the path back to the office. "You sure you don’t have any, I don’t know, top-secret cases I can write about? I’m sure you do."
Jill gives her a look. "You planning to bribe me, Claire?"
"I would never!" Claire exclaims, placing a hand on her chest in mock offense. "But hypothetically, if I did, what works on you? Coffee? Chocolate?"
"God, you really are his sister," Jill groans, though it sounds amused. "Now I got two Redfields to deal with."
"Lucky you."
They reach the office again, and Jill points to Chris’s desk. "Speaking of, you can wait here for Chris, he should be back soon."
Claire sets down her notepad. "Sure thing, Off—uh, Jill."
Real smooth, Redfield.
Jill exhales through her nose like she’s trying not to laugh and moves toward her desk, sifting through the pile of reports. Claire finds herself watching again, the slight furrow in Jill’s brow, her fingers skimming the pages, the way she absentmindedly bites her lips in concentration. Somehow it feels downright unfair that someone could make paperwork look that good.
Claire perches on the edge of Chris’s desk next to her. "So, tell me. How’d I do?"
"Not bad," Jill responds without looking up. "Didn’t touch anything you shouldn’t have, I’m impressed."
Then Claire sits down on Chris’s empty chair. "You sound surprised by that."
"Most people can’t go five minutes in the evidence room without asking if they can hold a gun or something."
"Huh," Claire muses, tilting her head. "Would’ve actually been my next question if you’d kept me there longer."
That gets her a quiet laugh, and the silence after it is comfortable, not awkward like before. Claire glances at the cluttered corkboard over Chris’s desk, covered in notes and a few old team photos.
One catches her eye. STARS Alpha Team, a few years ago, maybe. Chris stands in the middle, arm slung over Jill’s shoulder, both of them grinning. Claire studies it longer than she means to.
"Aw, cute," she gestures to the photo.
Jill looks up at it, a hint of what looks like nostalgia passing through her expression. Judging by her light smile, it must be a happy memory, that day.
"You planning to join the ranks of law enforcement after this too?"
Claire laughs, then glances at the stack of reports. "Hell no. I like the theory of it, not the paperwork."
Jill smirks. "Smart girl."
Yeah, okay, that one lands harder than Claire expects, and her stomach does a little flip she absolutely refuses to acknowledge. Great. Fantastic. Blushing like a teenager again, rendered speechless by two words.
She opens her mouth, probably to say something that would’ve made it worse, but for once, the universe takes mercy on her.
"Well, look at that. Still in one piece, the both of you?" Chris’s voice breaks the tension as he leans against the doorway.
"Barely," Jill says, leaning back in her chair.
"She didn’t give you too much of a hard time, did she?" Chris asks her, eyeing his sister.
Claire forces a laugh, grabbing her notebook and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Guess that depends on who you’re asking," she says, trying not to sound as breathless as she feels. Jill’s soft huff of laughter doesn’t help.
She turns to leave, then hesitates for a second at the door. "Jill? Thanks for showing me around."
"Always good to have Chris owe me a favor," Jill replies smoothly, meeting her eyes easily. "I’ll see you both tomorrow, then."
"Wasn’t that bad, right?" Chris says once they’re back in the car. "And from tomorrow on, you’re gonna be with me."
"Jill’s alright."
"Knew you two would get along eventually," Chris smirks, pulling out of the parking lot. "You’ve got that Redfield charm too. A bit of it, at least."
"Speaking of charm…" she starts, then sighs. Gotta lead this conversation away from her. "Apparently you’re not her type. Sorry about that."
That earns her a confused look. "Yeah, obviously. I’m a man," Chris replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and yet it takes her a few seconds to put two and two together.
"Oh." Is all she can manage to get out. Claire’s not into Jill like that, of course, just impressed. She might also be really damn pretty, but plenty of women are, right? Women her age, preferably not police officers. That sounds better.
"What’s that thing you guys have? A gaydar?" Chris asks, fumbling for the word.
Claire groans but has to hide a laugh. "Please never say that again. And how do you even know—"
He doesn’t give her the time to finish talking. "Yours is very broken."
"Works well enough for me to tell that Mr. Fringe was swooning over you."
Her brother keeps his eyes glued to the road, brows furrowed as if he’s got a personal vendetta against it. "Are you sure this is a criminology and not a psychology assignment?"
"Chris, he was drooling. That’s gotta be a HR violation."
"You’d know all about that," her brother mutters, tone suspiciously innocent.
"Now what’s that supposed to mean?"
Chris chuckles quietly. "Nothing. Forget about it."