Jill Valentine awoke in the middle of the night to her heart hammering fiercely against her ribcage. Instinctively, her hands flew to her chest ascertaining that she was indeed freed from the mind controlling device that Albert Wesker had forced on her. the apparatus had rooted deeply beneath her skin and Jill was sure that it would take a long, long time before the stitching pain in her chest would finally disappear.
Yet now, with the African heat having cooled down to some bearable 70 degrees she didn't feel the pain as much as she did during the day and was thankful to having been able to get at least a few hours of sleep. She turned her head where Chris and his partner should be sleeping and frowned upon finding both their cots empty.
A few hours prior, Captain Stone landed their helicopter at the West African B.S.A.A. base. He insisted on providing some food, proper medication and a place to rest before letting the three of them fly to the States. Judging by his increasingly instructive tone Stone had obviously expected to hear objections from Chris but the American did no more but flashing an exhausted and grateful smile and thanking for the hospitality.
Jill's thoughts drifted to how Chris held her the day before in Wesker's hideout, that look of genuine concern never leaving his eyes. She loved him. Unconditionally. But she had never seriously attempted to let him know, not even once in their eleven years of partnership. Back in 1998, when they were still on the S.T.A.R.S. team, Barry Burton gave her the advice better not to get involved in matters of the heart in the first place for that might lead her into trouble, let alone suspension, unless, of course, that was what she wanted. After all, his wife, who had started out as an Alpha trainee as well had faced the same consequences when she decided to stay with her future husband.
To Jill, risking her freshly acquired position on the team was never an option. So she kept her feelings to herself managing to grow more and more accustomed to the situation over time. As months and years went by the uneasiness she felt whenever she was around Chris Redfield faded away to reveal that she had not only made a reliable partner at work but also a wonderful and caring friend in life.
There it struck her again, the stitching ache in her chest, accompanied with horrid thoughts of the Uroboros, death and mass extinction. Wesker's voice was mingling with the groaning of infected people and the shrill sound of Ricardo Irving's laughter in her head. The cacophony of recent flashbacks seemed to flood Jill's brains threatening to drive her out of her mind but the woman fought not to give in. Carefully, she sat up on the cot and pushed herself up. Getting some fresh air might be the best she could do. And perhaps she would be able to find Chris on her way out and catch up for the past months she was held captive.
The new moon was shining brightly over the B.S.A.A. base. She marveled at the clean, starry sky and breathed in deeply, savoring the soothing coolness of the wind on the sensitive skin of her chest. Here and there were a couple of operatives assigned for night watch sitting by the doors of several camp buildings chatting and playing cards, an air of natural ease emerging from them. Jill smiled at the refreshing sight of the hard-boiled and ready-to-kill operatives joking and laughing, making them resemble normal buddies hanging out after a long day's work. Some of the men waved Jill over as she passed and offered to join their game but she declined explaining that she wanted to move her legs and take a little stroll around.
It wasn't too long until Jill recognized the silhouette of Chris' back pitch black against the guttering of a cracking fireplace. Sheva was sitting next to him, her slender figure turned slightly to face him. Her mouth was moving but Jill was still too far away to make out what they were saying. She let out an inaudible sigh of mild disappointment of not encountering her friend alone in this place in the middle of the night but then again, it did make sense to her, in a certain way. She understood perfectly that the recent accomplished mission required some sort of personal closure for both of them, and that meant talking. The corners of Jill's mouth curled in a smile of fondness about Chris. She loved him for his caring personality and his sense of responsibility he must have felt towards the young girl. He would make a wonderful father, of that Jill was sure. Sheva might not have been older than eighteen, the woman assumed. Yet she had been brave staying at his side until the end fighting for revenge on the man who had killed so many people she knew – her fallen brothers, as she had put it.
A cool breeze blew softly against her chest and Jill was just about to turn around and leave the two agents to themselves when she noticed a movement that made her stop in mid-action and instead sneak a little closer. Sheva had shifted a bit closer to Chris and brushed his hand with her own making him look up and return the significant smile she cast him. There was something about the lengthy gaze they shared that made Jill's stomach clench. They were creating some sort of unspoken intimacy, an invisible bond that made the older woman feel left out and alien. Within a second, the African whom Jill had considered still a teenager had grown into a beautiful young woman who wasn't attempting to hide her attraction to the handsome man that was facing her now.
Sheva's smile faded slowly as she leaned towards the American and closed their distance by capturing his lips with her own. The man just sat rigidly, barely responding to the young woman's sweet and tentative kiss in an obvious inner struggle not to give in. Then, suddenly he pulled away from her and lowered his head to the ground.
"Listen, Sheva, I can't.", Chris spoke softly after a little while and searched her eyes again. Jill could sense that the shimmer of hurt and vulnerability the young woman was trying to suppress struck him to the core. He rose up a hand to touch her cheek. "I can't, as much as I'd love to."
"As much as you'd love to? What's the matter?", Sheva questioned. She could sense his uneasiness and his silent search for words.
"So it is about Jill.", she whispered tonelessly. "You are more than partners, right?"
The American let out a heavy sigh and stared into the hypnotizing blaze of fire. "We are more than partners.", he confirmed. "We're even more than friends. I care for Jill and I love her as much as I love my sister. But this isn't about her."
The woman in question felt a lump rise in her throat upon hearing those words from Chris. It hurt her to the bone that he thought of her as of no more than a sister. She wondered what she did, or did not to have let it come to this. Had he ever felt differently about her? She couldn't remember receiving the same looks Sheva was given this very moment in years. Has she acted too cool and unapproachable towards him when they were left alone together? She thought of the difficult relationship Claire and Leon had, their individual personalities and temperaments clashing like oil and water – yet they loved each other. She wondered if they were still together. Chris and his sister Claire, on the other hand, hardly ever got into a fight, just like him and herself. Had she always been too nice and conciliatory to be looked at in a different way? Like the way he was looking at Sheva right now?
"What is it then, Chris?", the African inquired. "Tell me, I can take it."
"I know you can.", he smiled and supported his elbows on his knees, taking a deep breath. " I was at the Air Force, I was an Alpha and now I'm hunting down bioterrorism. I've been working for the government for fifteen years now. And in all this time, I dealt with things that were not meant to be seen. I cannot sleep at night without being haunted by nightmares." He straightened himself and turned his head towards Sheva. "Whenever I close my eyes I see flashbacks and memories of all the misery and death I've been through. There's hardly a sound that my brain doesn't twist to resemble grunting, cries of pain, gunshots, breaking of security glass, sirens or explosions. I was trained by the best to become what I am now, a marionette of the States. And I have to function at my best for Washington, like a machine. I have no time to digest all of this."
She looked at him in contemplation and understanding and gave him a silent nod encouraging him to continue.
"God, I mean, I am a wreck, Sheva."
Sheva's expression softened as she brought up a digit to his lips to hush him. She shifted her gaze from one blue eye to the other. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that you're rejecting me because you think I wouldn't understand what all this made with you, how it affected your behavior?"
"Sometimes, I don't even recognize myself. I mean, look at you! You're twenty-three years, so full of life and energy, basically unmarred by the cruelties of the world – I could never forgive myself if I screwed up your life, too. You deserve so much more."
"Chris, listen to yourself. All we've been through, did that show nothing to you at all?"
"Yeah, of course… but-"
"-Or is it the fact that you and I are twelve years apart?"
"That too.", he silently confessed.
"Look Chris, I may still be young and inexperienced by Western standards, but by far not by the African ones. The girls here grow up at thirteen, some even earlier, depending on the circumstances they live in. Just look around. Look at the kids on the streets. Most of them have never seen a running tap or tasted chewing gum in their lives. Summer draughts teach them how to survive, as do diseases and plagues or violence and rape. They are all but unmarred by the cruelties of the world." She took a deep breath. "But they do survive. You can see them run, play and laugh whenever you enter a village."
The man smiled. The young woman's words made perfect sense to him.
He sighed, looking at the hypnotizing fire. He remembered the last time he felt so at ease sitting at a campfire. It was way back in the seventies, by a small crook about an hour away from his grandparents' house in the woods. He was a teenager back then. He spent hours tutoring his little sister in boy scouting and surviving in the open. And later, at dusk, the Redfields would all gather around the fireplace, his mum providing food and his dad playing the guitar, creating this magical atmosphere. This was a precious memory of his family he would never forget. Now, Claire was the only family he had. He blinked, refocusing on the present day, and turned his head to his partner.
"Sheva, what you said in the marshlands… What happened to your parents?"
"They were killed when I was eight. I was taken to my uncle's together with my seven siblings but I wouldn't stay there."
"Why not?", Chris questioned, "Didn't he take care of you?"
She fell silent and turned her head away.
"I'm sorry.", Chris said, "I didn't mean to-"
"No, it's OK.", Sheva said. "My uncle started raping my siblings. I managed to escape before he could get to me."
"God, I'm sorry."
"He was a bastard. They killed him a couple of years later, when he was caught stealing. I'm glad they did it. I felt not an ounce of sorrow for him."
"Was there any other place you could go? Any other relatives, friends?"
She shook her head. "I wanted to get away as far as I could. I got a truck ride to a bigger town. I told my story to the driver who turned out to be a member of the guerrilla. He took me in and took good care of me, he started training me and took me into his organization." She collected a stone from the ground and threw it into the fire, as if to emphasize her words. "However. Please, consider me grown up for at least fifteen years." She tilted her head slightly to the side and smiled softly. "But after all, isn't age just a number?"
He chuckled softly and looked back into the flame. After a lingering moment of silence, he reached out for Sheva's hand, surprising her slightly. "Are you sure about this?"
She smiled quizzically, so Chris rephrased, grinning. "Are you sure you can put up with a greying man?"
For a second, Jill thought about rushing into the scene like an enraged teenager and break the moment they shared. She wanted to hate the girl for stealing her partner, yet she couldn't. She loved the man too much to ruin the calm and peaceful atmosphere the girl had helped him create. And so there was nothing else left for her to do but to avert her eyes as the man eventually dropped his guard and pulled his new partner close engaging her in a long, deep kiss.
Slowly, she turned on her heels and blinked away the silent tears in the corner of her eyes as she made her way back to the dorm. It was then when Jill Valentine realized that her chance of being with Chris Redfield had indeed passed long, long ago.