Title: Regrets
Rating: PG
Fandom: Resident Evil
Characters: Ricardo Irving, Jill Valentine, Albert Wesker {mentioned}
Pairings: None (well... Implied!Ricardo Irving/Jill Valentine if you squint hard enough maybe...)
Timeframe: Post-Resident Evil 5
Summary: There were times when she became fully aware of what she was doing.
Word Count: 329
Author's Note: Originally I had a different idea of what to do with this but then my plot bunnies changed their minds.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil and that's that.
No.
There were times when she became fully aware of what she was doing. And every time that happened she'd fight against the P30 that Wesker had placed on her. Sometimes she'd imagine herself breaking free and the outcome would consist of her contacting the B.S.A.A. her locations and Wesker's plans. But never was that the case.
She felt her arm lift higher, her hand constricting tightly around the person's neck.
No. No, no, no, no, no, no…
Gloved fingers clawed at her wrist in hopes to break free and she felt herself pounding against the door in hopes to break free from her mind that had been her prison for the past… how many days, months, years? She heard herself begin to speak again, repeating the same thing she had a few seconds back. If only she could break free… to be in control of her own body…
Oddly enough, her body – the P30, really because it was what was controlling her – seemed pleased with his answer and released him from her chokehold on him.
"Use it."
It took her a few moments to realize what it was that was being offered to him. And, if she were in control, her eyes would have widened.
No! Don't use it!
But then again, if she were in control, then none of this would be happening.
Or at least… it wouldn't be her that was offering it to him.
It took Irving a few seconds to regain his lost breath and, when he finally did look to see what she held out to him, he seemed a bit… taken aback.
"… This?"
"No! Irving, don't!"
Jill bolted upright, hand outstretched, as if to stop the male from taking the syringe. Her cheeks were damp and it took her a few seconds to calm her frantic heart and remind herself that it was all a dream, a nightmare – a memory.
And it was a memory added to her list of regrets.
