After watching "10 Things I Hate About You" (movie version) and then playing Resident Evil, I just had to write this story. Well, I wrote it a week or two ago, but since I'm away from home and it's late, I decided to post it now. I had to change the original poem a bit so it would fit the characters. Luckily, most of it worked with what I was trying to do anyway.

This will focus mainly on the relationship of Jill and Wesker before the events of Resident Evil 1, all the way to after the Mansion Incident. There's some romantic hints, not a lot though. Again, you can choose to either see the romance or not. It's mostly focusing on the friendship and hatred between them. Because, really, they had to have some kind of relationship before RE1. Whether it was romantic, friendly, or barely-existent, who knows?

Disclaimer: Besides the edited parts, I DO NOT own the poem in bold or the movie it comes from. I also have no rights to Resident Evil. How depressing.

NOTE: TOLD IN JILL'S POINT-OF-VIEW.


I hate the way you talk to me

Wesker partly turned towards me, his hand resting on his gun. I wouldn't let him intimidate me. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Even from behind his black sunglasses, I could see his crystal blue eyes burning into my own. "You know, I really hate goodbyes."

And the way you style your hair

S.T.A.R.S. had just narrowly escaped an explosion set off by a suicidal terrorist. The shock of the blast had made us fall to our knees, and as I slowly got up, my eyes caught set of Wesker just ahead of me. He was covered in soot and smoke from the flames. For some odd reason, I found myself glaring at him, mostly at his hair. Even after the mission, it was perfectly gelled-back and smooth, not even a trace of dirt in his golden strands. I vaguely wondered if his hair was bulletproof.

I hate the way you drive your car

With my car broken down and my wallet lying forgotten on my kitchen table, I was left with walking to work in the rain. It's hard to believe how much bad weather can affect you. I was suddenly cold, tired and depressed. I forced myself to keep walking, cursing the storm clouds above me.

It was at that moment I heard his voice. "Are you trying to catch pneumonia, Valentine?"

I looked over to my left to see Albert Wesker leaning across the seat, speaking through the rolled down window. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I heard him sigh from inside the car, and the passenger door swung open. "Get in."

I obeyed and nearly dove inside, quickly rolling up the window and requesting for the heat to be turned up. For some reason, being with my captain in his car was the most comfortable setting I could have ever imagined. For the next ten minutes, we talked and we laughed. It was the first time I heard him laugh, and the first time I ever saw him smile. He had a very handsome smile.

I also learned that day that Wesker was a show-off when it came to driving. He would pointlessly make sharp turns and swivel the car. I was surprised we didn't get pulled over by our fellow police, but it was fun. Just to piss me off, he would suddenly hit the brake at random while making up the most stupid excuses for doing so, like: "My foot slipped," or "I could've sworn there was a red light up ahead." At that point in time, I believed the naive notion that Captain Wesker was a horrible liar. I had no idea how wrong I was.

I hate it when you stare

I had a feeling that someone was watching me. Not in an odd way, but as if they were waiting for me to turn around and meet their eyes. On impulse, I did exactly so.

I turned in my chair and caught sight of Captain Wesker staring at me. He had his sunglasses off and they lied on his desk. He was leaning forward, his arms crossing each other as he relaxed them on the desktop. His blue eyes appeared to glow, and I finally managed to tear my eyes away and face the other direction. Even with my back to him, I knew he was still staring at me. I hated when he did that.

I hate your big dumb combat boots

I never fully understood why Captain Wesker wore his combat boots on his days off, but he did. I was at first surprised to see him at a cafe, but then I looked down and was then surprised at what he was wearing.

"Wesker, are you trying to make a fashion statement?" I teased, stifling a laugh. He wore a wrinkled black t-shirt, his sunglasses (as usual), dark-washed jeans, and his black combat boots. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought he had just rolled out of bed by the state of his ruffled blond hair. I wouldn't have noticed the combat boots if it wasn't for how loud his steps were against the hardwood floor.

"I am not trying to make any kind of statement," was his reply, before he grabbed the coffee he ordered and took a sip. His eyes drifted to my feet and slowly made their way up. He swallowed, and then smirked. "Why, are you?"

I glanced down at my own clothes. He did have a point. I was wearing a green tank-top, black jogging pants and a pair of mud-covered Nikes. Just to make my ensemble even more mismatched, I had lazily grabbed a baseball cap to slip on over my unwashed hair. I probably looked worse than he did.

"Stupid combat boots," I muttered, before taking his place in front of the counter and ordering a coffee myself. It was hard not to hear him walk out of the cafe with that clunky footwear on.

And the way you read my mind

'So, you're safe?' That's all he had to say? I hadn't seen him in hours and that's the first thing he says to me! With everyone disappearing and getting killed left and right, I was worried that there was no one else besides Barry and I. When I saw Wesker, I couldn't help but call out his name in shock. I wasn't expecting to run into him, but, god was I ever glad.

I was still indignant that he just disappeared. He told us that he would be securing the main hall, but when we returned, he was nowhere to be found. I was worried that some of those creatures had got to him, but seeing him in perfect health before me made me inwardly fume. If he was alright, he should have come back and try to find us, instead of standing here shooting bees!

At that point, I realized that he was waiting for me to say something. It was odd how he always took the words right from my mouth. I was about to say, "You're safe," but I would just be repeating his words. Instead, I replied with the only proper response I could think of.

"That's what I was going to say!"

I hate you so much it makes me sick

It was all because of him. My teammates...my friends...were dead. Someone I had always cared about was holding a gun to the back of my head. I nearly lost my life -in a single night alone- numerous times. All of the suffering...everything...it was all his fault.

"Wesker...you're pathetic."

It even makes me rhyme

Joseph had his radio playing music as the Alpha team sat at their respective desks in the S.T.A.R.S. office. Bravo team was on patrol, so we had paper duty. I was sitting with Joseph and Wesker, trying to translate a Spanish Missing Persons Report, when all of a sudden a Corey Hart song came on. The song had been, "I Wear My Sunglasses at Night." Wesker was paying no attention to the music, but Joseph and I slowly met each other's gaze and thought the exact same thing at the exact same time. We burst out into laughter, making the rest of Alpha team stare at us, especially Wesker himself. He didn't see what was so funny. So, we thought we would enlighten him by singing along as we worked.

"While she's dec-eiv-ing me! She cuts my sec-ur-ity now...!"

Needless to say, Captain Wesker destroyed the radio.

I hate the way you're always right

No matter the circumstances, Wesker was always collected. He talked to me as if this was all an act. I hated knowing that he had everything figured out. We were like his little play-things, entertaining him as he watched us fight to survive. I had so many questions. I needed so many answers. Why did he betray us? Why was he doing this? What happened here? What was Umbrella's goal with this virus?

I just didn't understand what was happening around me, and it was increasingly frustrating.

"Smart girl, but I don't think you understand."

I hate it when you lie

"Don't blame Barry for all of this. I heard that his better half and two lovely daughters will be in trouble, if he doesn't do everything I tell him to."

All this time, he had me thinking that he was on our side. I thought this man, our captain, was actually with us. I was so foolish. I let him lead me into thinking that it was Barry who was the traitor. In a way, yes, he was. But, Barry had no choice. His family was in danger. Wesker, the man who was truly betraying us all, had a choice. All of his lies came bubbling to the surface, and I realized he was never our captain. He had always been a liar...a liar, a traitor, and a killer.

I hate it when you make me laugh

A sudden string of curses came from outside the S.T.A.R.S. offices, making all of us rush out the door to see what was going on. It was hard trying to contain our laughter. Standing in front of us was Captain Wesker, a brown stain covering the front of his pants, and Chris, who was a now half-empty pot of hot coffee. The look on Chris' face was one of shock and horror. The look on Wesker's face was, well, rather scary.

"You..." Wesker's voice trailed off as he once again looked down at his pants. It must have been burning his legs. Joseph dared to ask Wesker if he should take off his pants before he got actual burns, but Wesker silenced him with a death glare.

After a few minutes of trying to calm Captain Wesker down and leaving Chris to clean up the mess, I managed to find Captain Wesker. He was sitting in the S.T.A.R.S. office by himself, donning a lethal look in his eyes. I was holding some towels and placed them in front of him. He looked from the towels to me.

"I thought you might have wanted to clean yourself up some. I don't really understand why you don't go and put on a new pair of pants instead."

"I don't have any other pants here, Valentine," he replied, taking the towels and patting his lap. The white towels slowly turned brown. "Chris offered me his extra pair, so I guess that will have to do until I get home."

"You didn't get burned, did you?" I asked, my voice suddenly filled with concern. "Would you need help changing?"

Wesker cocked an eyebrow and I realized just how my question sounded. "I-I didn't mean it like that. I just—"

"Desperate to see me without my pants on, are you, Valentine?"

For some unknown reason, I began to laugh.

Even worse when you make me cry

"You..." I couldn't find the words to express my anger, my disbelief, "set the team up?"

Wesker cocked his head to one side, as if he was slightly amused at what I said. The smugness in his face, the way he watched Chris and I stand there, waiting to see his next move...it hurt. It really hurt. I was never one to be emotional, but at that moment. I could feel my eyes began to sting and water. I refused to let myself cry. Not now, not in front of them.

He still had his eyes on me when a stray tear ran down my cheek.

I hate the way you haunt me

It wasn't over when we landed safely back in Raccoon City. We tried to tell people what happened. No one believed us. No one cared about what caused so many deaths. They just cared about getting the service over with and moving on with life. And no one, not one single person besides us, dared to point a finger at Umbrella.

At the end of the day, I slipped back into my dark and empty apartment. I thought of Kevin, Joseph, Kenneth, Richard, Enrico...everyone we had lost just the night before. Then, I thought about him. I thought about everything he had done.

I threw up.

And the fact that you watched us fall

We were his pawns.

He controlled every move.

He made up a strategy.

He tested it on us.

It worked.

He knocked us off the chessboard.

And he watched us fall.

But that's not what made me sick.

It was the fact that he enjoyed it.

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you

The worst thing in the world is knowing that someone you cared for, someone you admired, and someone you respected was planning to leave you for dead all along.

It makes it hurt even more when you begin to realize that even though you're still crying, still swearing revenge, and still hoping that it's all a dream, you still wish they were there beside you.

Not even close

You wish that they weren't dead.

Not even a little bit

And you wish that they cared about you, too.

Not even at all


How was it? I tried to keep them in-character as possible while using some of the canon scenes from the games.

Anyway, I'm happy with the result. Hope you enjoyed it! (If you did, you should review. No, seriously.)

-Kendell