All She Needed
In a way, she never came back from Africa. In a way, she truly did die falling from the cliff that day.
She didn't smile, not anymore. The only one that could get her to was Chris, and he did his best. Words would so rarely fall from her pale pink lips. Once again, Chris was the only one that she thought deserved them. He was the only one to make her laugh, to make her happy, if only sparingly. She often needled her lower lip with her teeth, uncertain with everything she did. More often than that, she'd have the two pink lines clamped firmly into a frown, as though everything disappointed her.
Her eyes were vacant. Emotion was often muted, if it appeared at all. When her gaze fell on anything or anyone that she didn't love, there was nothing in them. They were simply a blue void. They made people feel uncomfortable and uneasy.
The people she loved were lucky. They were able to see her emotions through her eyes, though it was often dim. Anger was seen the easiest, blatantly obvious with her flashing blue orbs. Insecurity hid in her eyes like a rabbit from a hunter, only showing if one looked hard enough. Sadness was never muted, no matter how she tried. It was a default for her. Love, though, was seen by so few. Some friends that she was close to. Her adoration for Chris, though, was obvious when she looked at him. She never tried to hide her affection for him, not as she had before Africa. She wanted to make the most of her time with him. It was truly terrifying for him when she was angry at him because she would have a blue fire burning there with affection hidden behind it. Desire, though, was something Chris only saw. He saw it first almost a month after her leave from the hospital and many more times after that.
Her hands were always moving. She'd have to have something in her hands, so much so that she had taken to carrying around sticky tack, kneading it constantly with her fingers. She liked to run her fingers through Chris's hair when he was falling asleep and loved when he did the same to her.
Jill hated being left alone. She'd feel as though she was back under Wesker's control and had fallen into another hallucination as she so often had gotten. P30 would send her into her mind, letting her believe that she was back home, nestled in bed besides Chris or out to lunch with Claire. But she'd be pulled out of those visions to realize she was still with Wesker, still a slave.
She'd often busy herself and try to find company. Whenever anyone had a day off from work, no matter who (Rebecca, Claire, Leon),
she'd invite them over. They rarely said no.
What she expescially loved were Chris's days off. He no longer accepted missions and worked as a consultant for the BSAA and trained new recruits. He had weekends off and Wednesdays. He always left those days open to spend with her. He was overjoyed that she was with him, but worried about her mental state. She had become slow and thoughtful, never doing anything without thinking it over thrice. He spent hours simply laying with her. He traced every line of her body, kissed every scar. She reveled in his touch, almost not believing she was there with him.
One day, when they were cuddling in bed, his arms around her protectively, she confessed something to him. She whispered how she felt as though she was only inches from death. That she felt as if she had in fact died, but hadn't realized it yet.
Each word she breathed out grated across his ears. He hated himself for being the reason she had mentally executed herself by plunging through a window and becoming Wesker's slave.
When she finished talking, he kissed her, feeling her immediate reaction. Her mouth opened to him and for a few minutes, that's all she could focus on. When they parted, he kissed her forhead and replied in a low voice that she was still Jill, that her life hadn't ended and she was there with him. She felt reassured for that moment, the hopeless pit that was her heart suddenly filled up with love for the man before her.
He often talked her through moments where she felt as though she were standing in the ruins of her life. He often insisted on doing everything he could for her. He understood that he could never truely pay her back for what she had done for him. But she felt as though he had. He loved her and that was enough. Each extra action was superfluous. She didn't need him to hold a door open for her or cook her a meal. She just needed to know that he loved her. If she knew that, she could get past her vacant eyes and her timid ways. She could return to being the Jill Valentine she had been proud of before Africa. As long as she had Chris and his love. It was all she needed.
That's why it hurt that much more when she opened her eyes to Wesker standing before her, ordering her to kill.
Just another hallucination.