Reupload.
He found her too late.
Lying on the bed, still-blonde hair in her face.
I am utterly alone.
No, no, no. She had him. She always had him.
I tried to stay strong. I was forgiven, embraced. Everyone tried their best to make me feel at home. But I can't forget. The memories will stay with me forever.
Christ, Jill. Why. He'd help her forget, do anything for her.
Temporary insanity. All my crimes erased, as if they were never committed. As if I am the only one who remembers. But I can't go on pretending any longer.
She couldn't leave him. He couldn't pretend to go on without her.
It isn't the way I was beaten like a slave. It isn't the torture I endured. It isn't even entirely the guilt.
Jill, Jill, Jilly. None of it was her fault.
It is that I was used to almost destroy the world as we know it.
She nearly died to save him, and suffered so much for it.
I've dedicated my life to eliminating bioweapons from this world, yet I was used by my worst enemy to become a weapon of mass destruction. I could have destroyed the world.
But she didn't.
I can't upset the balance any longer. Giving up is my only option. Wesker is gone, and I no longer have a purpose.
Her purpose was to keep him sane.
It is not evolution. It is not destiny. It is a mistake. My life feels surreal, unimportant.
Chris felt his hands clench. Unimportant? She was his world. His friend. Partners, right?
I am only writing this for you, Chris. Because I know you'll find me. And I know you'll care. You found me, after all.
She knew him so well. How could she leave him?
I'm sorry, Chris. I'm so sorry."
She should be.
Her skin was pale and soft as she rested quietly in the bed. Slipping in next to her, he gripped her hands tightly. They were so small and fragile, with barely a trace of calluses left. She hadn't held a gun in months. Beautiful: everything about her was so beautiful, even in death. Her eyes, ringed darkly, still were shaded with thick lashes. Sharp cheekbones were defined by her thinner frame, and her full lips were swollen and bitten, a nervous habit she'd developed.
All he wanted to do was hold her.
Something was wrong with him, he knew. Instead of lying here, he should be calling the police or something. But wasn't he the police? Shit. He didn't know what to do.
Feeling the curves of her body beneath his hands, he felt himself become aroused. Loving her had always been so painful: especially when he knew she shared those impossible, caged feelings. But work came first.
Now, there was no such excuse.
The half empty pill bottle sat patiently next to her bed.
He swallowed the remainder, gagging at the taste and the residue stuck in his esophagus. Water would've helped, but the empty glass by her bed had nothing left in it.
Maybe it was sick, maybe it was wrong, but he kissed her. Those lips he loved so much were cool and soft to the touch.
He rested, waiting for the drugs to overtake his system. His only desire was to be with Jill Valentine, the love of his life. The irrational, automatic reaction was wrong. Perhaps in another life, another time, he'd see the foolishness of his actions. Death was nothing, though, compared to living without her. Even the broken Jill of late was better than nothing.
He'd tried living without her before.
Gently, he placed his hands on his manhood, wrapping his stiffening, clumsy fingers around him, groaning. It felt forbidden… wrong… and so fucking good. Christ. Ecstasy took over him before he could even move. He erupted, quickly, chafing himself on his calloused fingers, Jill's white complexion filling his vision.
Guilt flooded him. Wrong. How could he disrespect Jill like that? Her body was empty of her essence, a puppet in her shape. He wanted to die. Quickly removing his fingers, he wiped them roughly with the blanket, kissing her palms in penitence, hoping that wherever she was, she'd forgive him for committing such an act with her in his mind's eye.
He had never deserved her.
And now he lost her.
He felt drowsy, and settled in next to her, waiting to meet her.
They were found far too late.
Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine, co-founders of the BSAA did not die in action. They were not transformed into terrible creatures, or old and happy. They were found sleeping in each other's arms, cradled in eternity's shroud.
They were buried together, in a special site designated for BSAA members. A tombstone carved their name together, engraving it deep within the marble, so that their legacies would carry on.
Jill Valentine, 1975 – 2009
Chris Redfield, 1973 – 2009
Heroes and friends to all.
It was only later that the flowers arrived.
A redhead tearfully read the short message, frowning. It did not nearly convey the value and worth of her brother and Jill. They'd saved the world. They'd survived the impossible. She set the flowers down gently, wishing she had called her brother, or been kinder when they last spoke. So many regrets were made in Chris' rash, suicidal decision.
Always so strong, the news had shocked her out of her normal frame of mind. Chris had been there when Steve had died, been there when she'd been lost in the Antarctic. He'd laughed with her and hugged her and been her friend. But now he was gone, forever.
She left before the remains of her brother could see her tears.
A muscular, tanned man stooped down at the grave site, his face solemn. Jill had saved his life. Jill who he'd barely known, but risked everything for him. Strong, imperious Jill with the smile like sunlight. She was gone now, as one of the few and final survivors of Raccoon. It felt impossibly lonely to be a survivor. He could almost understand her reasoning. Jill had always been reasonable. But then, she had always been strong too: and here she had given up, gone away like leaves in the breeze.
He'd heard the story. Was it his fault that Jill had become what she despised most? Was it his idiocy that almost ruined everything? Guilt flooded him, overwhelming him. "I'm sorry, chica." He whispered before setting down the yellow roses and turning away. On his way out, he almost walked into a small, dark woman with piercing green eyes.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, looking away, into the eyes of a tall, ebony-skinned man. Carlos shook his head and passed them by.
Sheva Alomar and Josh Stone had flown to America for this. The two people who had gone over and beyond any expectations. Jill Valentine, who before had stayed alive despite all the odds, and Chris Redfield, who had been willing to sacrifice his life for Jill: and the rest of the world.
Sheva knew without a doubt that without Chris' help, she'd be long dead. Josh acknowledged the same. The pair of founding American BSAA agents had definitely changed the world. They were heroes. And dying a heroes death made for glory, but dying for love made for tragedy.
Sheva gripped her mentor's hand and let herself cry. It was almost too much to bear.
If Jill and Chris were gone, how would the world go on?