Okay, so, I wrote and published this almost three years ago, decided I hated it, and pulled it immediately. I decided to revisit and rewrite it because I thought it might pan out, so here it is. Now, before you read, go to YouTube and check out Space Dog by Tori Amos. Then come back. Cool? Cool. Also, this might be considered AU depending on what Capcom's storytellers ultimately decide to do with the RE-lore.
Speaking of Capcom, everyone belongs to them.
Onward!
"Deck the halls, I'm young again, I'm you again
racing turtles, the grapefruit is winning..."
The line popped into Jill Valentine's head randomly one night, and it was so perfect that she couldn't help letting out a bitter laugh. The grapefruit was, indeed, winning. Hell, at this point the stupid thing had lapped her about a thousand times over as her search for the BSAA's Chris Redfield continued to go nowhere. Despite the countless resources at Jill's disposal, the investigation repeatedly led to nothing more than a series of dead-ends: Every lead on the missing captain's whereabouts had been as useless as the last, each one being little more than an urban myth about a man who knew a man who saw a man.
Nothing about it made sense. Chris wasn't the type of guy to just get up and abandon his post in the middle of a war zone, but that's exactly what he did: he got up and abandoned his post in the middle of a war zone. According to the report, he sustained massive head trauma and was rushed to a nearby hospital for treatment that never came; he was gone before anyone, BSAA or otherwise, could check up on him. As an infuriating bonus, the medical facility's cameras caught a clearly disoriented Chris stumbling right out of the building's main exit.
Because of course.
When Jill found out about Chris's disappearance she sprung into immediate action - or tried, anyway. She was ready to drop everything to bring her friend home, even if it meant walking right into a convoluted, B.O.W.-infested trap. However, the BSAA's higher-ups had different plans for her: she was to stay at H.Q. and lend support to various departments within the organization. While she had no doubt that they needed her, she also knew there were other, less-than-stellar reasons for keeping her out of the fray.
Jill's mind began to wander as she threw herself backward onto her pillows. It sounded like it could be the plot to a really bad movie: After a terrible accident, an injured soldier leaves his old life behind to start anew! The trailer would feature a montage set to a Peter Gabriel song, and there would be an obligatory, stupidly hot love interest, and it would end with a soaking wet Chris standing out in the rain yelling something about running from responsibility.
"Seems I keep getting this story twisted so
where's Neil when you need him?"
Jill groaned as more of Space Dog's oddly appropriate lyrics trickled into her head. The story was twisted enough without her overactive imagination spinning bizarre scenarios. She needed to get the song and the bad trailers out of her head and focus on her work.
"Deck the halls, it's you again, it's you again;
somewhere someone must know the ending...?"
So much for focusing.
Jill often found herself wondering what the "ending" could be. In a perfect world Chris would come home unscathed, but as much as Jill hated to admit it, she had some very serious doubts about his well-being. Deep down, in the pit of her stomach, she knew Chris Redfield was not okay.
With a strained sigh Jill sat up and grabbed her phone to check the time. The thought of calling it an early night was very appealing but she had too many miles to go before she could sleep: There were tons of emails and files to go through, each filled with questions, fact-sheets, and hot zones. Shit was getting real over in China, where reports of a small C-Virus outbreak were pouring in.
Jill removed her thick reading glasses and set her laptop aside. She rose from her position on the bed and stretched: if she was going to put in another late night she was going to need caffeine - and lots of it. Before she could give any thought to how much coffee she was going to make she found herself on her living room floor, overwhelmed by a sense of panic and confusion.
"Acquired!" Jill sputtered as fragmented thoughts quickly melted into brightly lit reality. "Target aquire - Claire?!"
A slightly disheveled Claire Redfield stood over Jill, agitation all over her face.
"The first time in forever that I catch you sleepwalking and it can't be something like, 'arghbuhfuuahvocadoblughhh'?!"
Claire extended a clammy hand, which Jill quickly took. "Did I attack you?" She asked as she was pulled to her feet.
"No, but you stared at me and said I was an obstacle. I tried to lead you to your room but you freaked out when I got near you."
Jill swore and uttered an apology. When had she even fallen asleep? She lowered herself onto the plush sofa and watched Chris's sister plop down on the nearby armchair. She looked exhausted.
Claire wasn't doing too well. Not only had she lost her brother, but her good friend, Sherry Birkin, had gone M.I.A. after accepting some Super-Secret-Mission for the DSO. Two of the most important people in Claire's life were suddenly gone, and she was devastated. As much as she wanted to travel the world to look for them, her responsibilities to TerraSave left her unable to carry out her own Redfield-style investigation (which was probably a good thing since her previous adventures involved zombies and mutants and bad luck in general). Instead, she settled for barging into Jill's apartment whenever possible to help sift through any leads while juggling her own crazy workload and personal life. Jill often found herself wondering how much Adderall Claire must have been popping to keep herself sharp.
"Dude. Why are you looking at me like that?"
"No reason." Jill replied, slightly embarrassed that she was staring. "So, what's the good word?"
"Not much," Claire yawned. "You?"
Jill responded with a miserable noise.
"That bad, huh?"
"The C-Virus is in China and Nivans is a pain in the ass. I'm also running on about four hours of sleep. So, yeah - that bad."
"Piers is doing the best he can with what he's got. He'll find something soon."
"Pfft. His only find was some schmuck on Interpol's most wanted list."
"Yeah, but you haven't found anything, either."
"Touché." Jill smirked. She reached back and undid her ponytail, which was slightly tangled thanks to her impromptu nap. She ran her fingers through her hair before bunching it up and re-tying it in a makeshift half-bun that could only be described as Cat Lady Chic.
"That was mean," Claire said quickly. "I'm sorry."
"No worries," Jill replied coolly. "I'm no closer to finding your brother than anyone else is; no use pretending otherwise."
"Where are we going wrong?" Claire wailed. "What are we missing?"
Jill rubbed her eyes. "I don't know," she replied slowly. "Nivans is overthinking this; his net is too wide. I keep telling him that if Chris is out there he's in plain sight, but he just won't listen. All I ever get is 'We've already tried that!' or 'Ada knows something!' or 'The lab wants to run more tests on you!'"
"Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean, 'if?'"
Oh, fuck - a Freudian slip. Best to just own it.
"Well," Jill drew the word out for an almost uncomfortable amount of time. "As much as it sucks to admit, I've had to take every possibility into account, and one of those possibilities is that -"
"Don't you dare say it!" Claire's eyes were suddenly bright with anger. "My brother isn't dead!"
"I never said that."
"But you were going to!"
Jill bit her lip. "Okay, look. I don't like thinking about it either, but we can't pretend that it's unrealistic. Chris had his head bashed in by some B.O.W. and left the hospital untreated. He could have had any number of injuries: concussion, swelling of the brain, hell, maybe even amnesia! And those are the best case -"
"Are you giving up?!"
"What?! No!"
"So what is this, then?"
"Logic."
"Don't you start with that robot shit, Jill! This is Chris we're talking about!"
"Yes, but surely you can admit that -"
"Admit WHAT?! Okay, yeah, he was hurt - bad - but he's recovered from worse! He's out there, Jill, and you swore you'd help find him!"
"I know, and I WILL!"
"Yeah, sure! You've already checked out, haven't you!?"
"Of course not!" Jill exclaimed. "You know damn well I'm doing everything I can to solve this thing, but I'm not going to sit here and pretend that everything is going to be okay when it's pretty fucking far from okay!"
"But how can you know that for sure?!"
Jill struggled to find the right words. She was just shy of her breaking point and Claire was in total bitch-mode, which meant she needed to tread carefully, lest the conversation end with slammed doors and hurt feelings. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by her cell phone ringing from the other room. Who the hell was calling at this hour?!
"Aren't you going to get that?" Claire asked, annoyed.
"Whoever it is can leave a message."
The phone stopped ringing; the voicemail chime sounded almost immediately.
"Look," Jill started. "I didn't mean to -"
She was cut off by Claire's loud ringtone.
"Right, right," Claire grumbled as she fished her phone from her pocket. "You didn't mean to upset me. Got it. Hello? Oh, what's up, Piers?"
Jill rolled her eyes. Piers Nivans wasn't her favourite person in the world, and interrupting a heated conversation certainly didn't win him any points. She watched Claire, who quickly looked in her direction.
"Yeah, she's right here."
"No I'm not."
"Check your voicemail," Claire said.
"Fuck you, no. Just tell me what it is."
"She said she can't get to her phone right now." A pause. Claire's eyes widened in excitement. "SHUT. UP! Jill! Check your email!"
Jill made an irritated noise as she trudged to her bedroom to retrieve her laptop and glasses. She made her way back to her spot on the sofa and woke the computer from sleep mode.
Click, click, double click. This had better be good.
"What are you doing over there," Claire demanded. "Piers wants to know if you have it up yet!"
"Piers can go to hell," Jill replied as her mailbox loaded. She was about to throw in a few expletives for good measure but stopped when she saw the email both parties must have been so eager for her to check out. The subject line read, in big, bold letters, "STRAY DOG," and the chain had over thirty replies. The body of the email was made up mostly of a series of blurry surveillance images, some in colour, some in black and white. All of them had one thing in common.
"Holy shit," Jill breathed quietly as Claire came over to look at the screen with her. "It's him…!"
Here are some notes, because of course:
* The line "Where's Neil when you need him?" is a reference to author Neil Gaiman, who is good friends with Tori Amos.
* "Miles to go;" Walt Whitman, yo. (Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening.)
* Headcanon: Jill sleepwalks and it's creepy as fuck, especially post-Kijuju.
* Referring to Claire as an obstacle is a direct reference to one of Jill's lines in Ultimate Marvel vs. Capcom 3. "Change of plans; eliminating all obstacles."
* Headcanon: Claire has ADD.
* "Stray Dog": RE6 files. Bartender at the dive Chris starts going to reveals in an interview that the patrons took to calling him the Stray Dog.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read, and, hopefully, review! Cheers!