It was just like any movie with an unbeatable villain; no matter how hard we fought this thing, this abomination, we couldn't get the upper hand in this fight. Somehow, Albert Wesker was still alive and definitely kicking. But then again, so were we. There was no way in hell we would let him go without a fight.

Why did it seem our loss was imminent unless we sacrificed everything in this battle? Before I knew it, I was being slammed into a glass bookcase in a chokehold, my feet dangling three feet from the ground as Wesker smirked at me. Victory was at hand, and it was most certainly not in our favor. Tell us something we didn't know.

Gunshots rang out, drowned out soon after by the storm outside. Wesker went after Chris, dropping me to my knees, allowing me to catch my breath.

That was his first mistake. I had to make this count. Black spots assaulted my vision as I gasped, desperate to catch up with what Wesker was doing to Chris. I had to get back in there. I had to back Chris up. Wesker moved so fast, by the time I finally could see again...NO! CHRIS!

I couldn't let him die.

"NO!" My resolve was firm, my promise to protect my partner just as strong as my determination to keep all danger far from my best friend, Chris Redfield. The word "duty" didn't even begin to cover what I did next.

Apparently, the pain from being thrown against a bookcase or being hefted above the ground in a chokehold wasn't nearly enough to stop me from slamming Albert Wesker out of the mansion window, sealing our fate as we plummeted to the jagged shore far below. My heart broke when I heard him shout my name, but I refused to take my eyes away from Wesker. Unfortunately, he pulled me into him as we fell.

What did it matter? This fall was going to kill us BOTH, no matter who first took the impact. At least it wasn't Chris…getting his beating heart ripped from his chest. The very thought made my heart ache for him, knowing he would have to live a full life now without me. We were huge parts of one another's lives, despite knowing that either one of us could drop dead on a mission at any given time.

Little did we know "dropping" was literal.

I refused to let this abomination live while he killed countless innocent people. He wanted Chris dead. Hell, it was a bonus of I went with him. Now what? Within Wesker's grasp, I didn't struggle for dominance. We were both dead, and he knew it.

Wait…what was that look in his eye? My own eyes widened, now realizing that he knew he was going to survive.

My death was all for NOTHING. His smirk is the last thing I remember, before the mind-shattering pain of bones being broken.

There are countless patches of missing memory after the fall. Passing out, waking up, fainting…almost dying. Maybe I died. Actually…I think I kept dying. Something—or someone—kept bringing me back. At times, I thought Chris had found me and had come to rescue me, or that's what I hoped for. But I couldn't keep my eyes open. I think the pain knocked me out over and over again, my brain constantly being overwhelmed trying to stay alive versus knowing when my body was done.

Then I heard his voice. "JILL." That sharp, impatient tone still held that commanding quality he once used as our dear Captain a time so long ago. No, I thought. Nonononono! He's supposed to be dead! Better yet…

How am I alive? This was a question I tried to ask of my…what was he now? Captor? Savior? Enemy, foe…humankind's worst foe yet. I opened my mouth, only to let out a pathetic whimper. God, I was so beyond broken that I sounded like a chew toy. I couldn't see anything, and I knew that I didn't want to at that point because of the pain.

"Jill." He was talking into my ear. "Can you move your hand?" My breath hitched as I tried to do so, to show him that I wasn't THAT weak, that I was still a threat, but he only sighed at my pitiful attempts. That was, until he asked the very question I had been asking myself this entire time. "How are you still alive?" He truly was puzzled by it, but at that very moment I couldn't care less. Pain. Lots of it. Happening riiiiiiiight then. Why did I have the sudden feeling that he was going to use me as an experiment now instead of putting me out of my misery? "Your vitals are…getting stronger." Puzzled was an understatement.

Somewhere a phone rang. Once, twice…Wesker groaned, walking over to where the phone was in the room. Of course, his cell phone probably didn't survive the fall. I began the painful process of opening my eyes, squinting at first against the constant migraine mess that my head was. Soon, however, I began to make out the scene before me: we were currently in a cheap motel room. Obviously, we were staying free of charge judging from the previous family's clothing still hanging neatly in the closet.

I could only hope he didn't kill them.

"The subject is on morphine." Pause. "Yes, she is still alive. I plan to keep her that way." Why? They must have asked. "She's of more use alive. Obviously." That rotten, know-it-all tone I knew all too well caused my finger to twitch. This caught Wesker's ever-watchful eye easily enough, his eyebrow twitching upward in inquiry. "I don't need excuses, Miss Gionne." That razor tone was something I would never forget. Hell, it's been FOREVER since he'd used that on Chris, let alone on me. I almost pitied the receiver now. "She needs immediate medical expertise. If you cannot provide—"

My mind began to drift once again, my eyes shutting on their own no matter how much I wanted to listen to the one-sided conversation. I felt my breathing become less shallow, and even though I was on morphine…pain once again became the culprit of depraving me of eavesdropping.

Chris was nowhere to be found in my dreams. Nightmares, instead, of Wesker plagued those once placid dreams of Chris and I walking the length of the beach below the mansion. Instead, Wesker was carrying my broken body across the span of that same beach on which we crash-landed. Blood from both of us mingled on both rock and sand, yet he kept pace. Blood or not, nothing would slow him down; that included carrying dead weight. What else could I expect?

Was Chris looking for me? Of course he was, I thought to myself. This was CHRIS I was questioning. Gods…what if—

"Jill." His voice plagued both my dreams and the real world, and in response I could feel a cry escape my lips. "I'm moving you." No, don't, I wanted to say. He didn't give me time before I could hear and FEEL the crunch as he hefted me into his arms, making way for the door. I think I was screaming…I wasn't sure. I felt the muscles in my neck working, a rumble in my chest telling me that I was indeed letting out such a sound…but my ears didn't hear a thing after he opened that door to reveal a helicopter. Were we that far away from the mansion that he would allow such a disturbance to attract attention to us?

"Take her." Wesker roughly told one of the medics waiting in the helicopter. One of them cupped a hand over my mouth, muffling whatever sound I was making at the time, while the other pulled me into the chopper. Not even a minute later, needles were stuck into my arms and both the pain and reality slipped away.

If only death followed.