Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil/Biohazard
AN: Edited and compressed down to one chapter from original version
The fierce African sun beamed down on Chris Redfield. It had been hours since the siege of infected natives had come at him wave after wave. He was running low on ammo and strength. Cuts and bloody scrapes littered his sore body, and his dry mouth. He was dehydrated, and tired, needed to find a place indoors to hide and scavenge some clean water to drink.
Sheva was right, splitting up was a bad idea.
He round another corner coming to what would surely be a packed square. Quickly he drew his shotgun and hit his back against a wall. The shotgun cried as he snapped back the grip and loaded a round into the chamber. When he turned the corner, ready to fight the waves of infected, he was left shocked. The square was empty. He trailed his sights on any available way of attack, of the ambush he was sure was coming.
No one, nothing.
The 12 gauge swung back to its place on his back, replaced by his Beretta.
"You look tired Chris." The familiar voice chimed from behind. "Why do you do this yourself? What are you trying to prove?"
"Claire?" His sister. Her long her hair fixed in a usual high pony. She hadn't changed her clothes since Thursday when he saw her last. Clearly her presence was nothing more than a mirage. He tried to convince himself of that. It was a day-dream, the heat was getting to him and now he was seeing the things he wanted to see the most. His family.
"Just give up now Chris. No one would blame you, not me, not Jill, not Barry. No one. Just pick up and go home."
He told himself she wasn't real. She was safe, behind a desk, working for Terrasave. A dingy shanty town in Africa was the last place she would be. But her words fought against him. Her voice telling her to quit when all it had ever done was cheer him on. He knew that only a crazy man spoke to midair, but he couldn't stop his own reply.
"I can't do that, Claire."
"Why not? Umbrella or H.C.F. or the government, Someone is gonna destroy this place. Just like Raccoon, and just like they did that Village in Spain, just like they've done a million times before. There is a reason you haven't ever found proof Chris. They're too strong, even for you."
"Someone has to stop them." Chris grabbed his side. The pain was getting too much for him. It had been hurting since he jumped off the roof of that house, back when Sheva and he split ways. The pain was familiar, from Spencer Mansion. Pain like being smacked through damp air by the clawed hand of a Tyrant and cracking three ribs. The landing must have re-offended that old wound.
"Look at you, it's been 10 years and you're still trying to save the world from Umbrella. Give up Chris. You can barely stand."
"I need to be here." The bright sun was becoming too much for his dry eyes. His eyes closed without command.
"Do you really believe that?"
He wasn't able to open them again.
"Are you sure you want to go to Africa? You can't stand 85 degrees let alone 105. You're going to die in the heat."
"So I'll bring extra water." His strong lips brushed his wife's soft cheek as she handed him a neatly folded shirt, knowing full well he didn't care and would throw it in his bag like the rest of it. Without a second glance.
The bed shifted, and she crawled across the neatly made queen to her lover's busy hands. "You know you're not 25 anymore?" He didn't answer her, instead he just kept backing. This was going to be his first mission since he got married when he didn't have Jill by his side. He was anxious about having a stranger watch his back. A stranger that wasn't Jill. But Irving was in Kijuju, he was certain of it. And Irving was the linchpin to everything.
Her hands enveloped his. She had to stop his fussing and get him to acknowledge her. She had seen his prewar packing and pacing and binge smoking before. But this time, with her slight baby bump reminding her how much she loved her husband, she couldn't let him go without hearing him say it.
"You're gonna make it home right?"
"Of course, babe." His lips met hers again and stayed. This was where they always belonged. Her touch gave him strength, his gave her peace. She pulled away, with a small smile as she scratched at her lip.
"Itchy." She pouted.
"You don't like it?" He arched a brow. "That's too bad." Finished packing, he zipped his suitcase and tossed it to the foot of their bed. "Cause it loves you."
His hands trailed up her sides, teasing the area's she found most ticklish. At the same time, he kissed and nibbled her neck. All she could do was struggle, laugh, and trip over his feet, sending her falling on the bed. He followed suit, landing on top of her small frame. Her face was glowing and her smile never faded. The same women he married 4 long years ago. Her small feminine hands cupped his cheeks, how he wanted to savor her soft warm touch.
"I love you Chris."
"I love you too, Jill."
They kissed again, thinking all along about the time they would spend apart. And as it always has, it started with a kiss and grew, until finally they found themselves falling asleep in each other's arms.
"Chris? Chris, wake up. Remember, you promised to make it home." Her voice rang from the dark of his mind. Not wanting to let go of his dream, his memory, his life. Regrettably, awareness slowly crept into his mind, alerting his stiff body.
"Jill?" His startled eyes flew open, to be stabbed by the blinding afternoon light.
"Chris, you need to wake up." Now fully aware, it felt too odd to have this other women wake him, when seconds ago it felt so much like his Jill. Again his eyes slit open, slowly, to adjust as much to the light as he could. He had a pounding headache, and an aching chest.
"Sheva?" He tried to set up, but her hand gave him resistance.
"You hurt your head badly when you lost consciousness. You are in no condition to set up, let alone fight."
"I'll be fine." He shifted and got to his knees. Using her rifle for support he stood, meeting eyes with his family. Jill, Claire, and Barry; all three stood there, counting on him. Waiting for him to rise and win or fail. They needed him to go on.
"Claire is your sister, isn't she?" Sheva stated more than asked, causing Chris to pause. "You were talking to thin air, talking to Claire, and then you collapsed. I just made it across the square in time to catch you."
When Chris still refused to reply, to admit he was weak, he wasn't one hundred percent she stood and grabbed his forearm.
"Seeing mirages and talking to yourself is not fine. You need to rest, and you need water." Chris shrugged her off and stumbled past Barry, the Barry that wasn't there, and rummaged through her small bag.
"I just need this." He pulled a long needle from her pack. An adrenaline shot. "This will give me the boost I need till we can do what we need to do, and get the Hell out of here."
"And what happens when the adrenaline wears off and work is still to be done?"
"Then I'll take it again."
"That's not exactly safe, Chris. I think you should stay here and rest. I may not be Jill but I am still your partner. Let me help you."
I knew it from the moment I arrived,
there's no reason here, no humanity.
Everywhere I look I see vacant stares.
All I see is death.
More and more I find myself wondering if it's all worth fighting for.
There was an eerie silence as Chris pulled the cap off the shot and rammed it into his chest, causing Sheva to jerk back at the self-abuse. The needle hurt and the liquid stung, but the energy would cloud that. Make him numb to everything but the instincts and power he needed to see the mission through to the end.
Who knows?
Chris loaded his Beretta into his side holster, and grabbed his shotgun.
There is one thing I do know.
"Chris…" Sheva sighed, worried.
"Hey, Chris! We're counting on you." Barry's arms were crossed over his chest, and he nodded his approval. The girls smiled lightly, showing their vulnerability, fear, and their confidence in him. As the pain left, they also began to disappear.
"I have a job to do," He cocked back the heavy gun and rested the barrel on his shoulder. "And I'm gonna see it through!"