Part One: The Ghosts That Haunt
Chapter One: In Which We Meet A Girl With No Friends– And A Boy with No Hope -And A Boy with No Tact
The police car was there again. Again.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd come home from school and not been afraid to see it. It was the colors that haunted her dreams. Blue and Red. Blue and Red. Blue and Red.
The colors of pain. The colors of loss. The colors of justice.
Something that meant it was time, again, for her to leave behind whatever little hole she was living in and go to another group home. This time it was to find her mother in handcuffs as they dragged her from the house. She was shouting and kicking. She was half naked. Her tank top was falling off her skinny torso, her nose was burst blood vessels and red…and bleeding.
Bleeding.
Because she'd snorted too much coke. She'd put her nose to too much blow and eradicated her septum. When she was wasn't spreading her legs for the money to pay for it, she was hanging with whatever pseudo lover she was currently letting slap her around trying to score more.
Noriko Ashiro had been a dancer once. The ballet. She'd been beautiful. She'd been swanlike. There were photos in the living room of her in Swan Lake. In the Nutcracker. Giselle. She was celestial. She was statuesque. She'd danced her way into the arms of the handsome, successful, and shallow Girard Valentin (Valentine by English distinction). Girard was French. He was all drama, all romance, all passion and excitement.
They'd travel and spend lavish amounts of money. He was involved in so many illegal things. But Noriko hadn't known. She'd loved him – madly, deeply, completely. Even when he'd started hitting her. She'd kept on loving him.
And she was so beautiful. Tall and lithe, graceful and pure. Blue eyes and black hair that swirled around her like a brilliant jet cape as she twirled. She'd birthed their beautiful daughter – Jillian. She'd been back on the stage four weeks later. She was dedicated and brilliant and loving. She'd spilled joy around her like magic.
As a little girl, Jill had spun in her little white tights and tutu, hoping for the day she could dance her way into the clouds beside her mama.
And then Noriko had stopped dancing.
One day, Jill had come home to find her on the floor in their little house in Greenwich Village in a pool of blood. Slit wrists and crying. Red in a dripping, dropping, dragging trail from the kitchen to the living room.
Noriko had set in the blood and cried, "When your heart dies, Jillian, when it dies…you must die with it…"
And Jill had known that her father was gone. He'd finally left. Or he'd just never come back.
But Noriko was inconsolable.
The cops had come for the first time. The paramedics. The flashing lights.
They'd taken her away for the first time to the group home. Noriko had gone away for awhile for suicide watch. Jill had gone to a foster home.
It wasn't so bad. That family had been kind. They'd wanted to adopt her.
But Noriko had come to get her. And she'd gone home, happy to be with her mama again.
The bills piled up. Girard would pay nothing. He'd divorced Noriko and left her penniless. He was lost somewhere in the wind. And the money ran out.
They moved. They moved again. Noriko had three jobs. She started disappearing at night and leaving Jill alone until morning. Eight years old and alone all night in a tiny apartment in the Bronx.
She'd come home with men. She'd come home high. Her face red, her nose red, her eyes red. She lost weight, her lithe frame was skeletal. Her hair was limp and strawlike. She started shouting and breaking things. She was always mad.
And the cops came again. She was in the street with some man slapping and screaming. They were both high. They were both bleeding.
The cops took Jill away again.
Another group home. This time no foster home. She was there for three months.
And Noriko came again to get her.
"It will be better, my bug, better."
It was never better.
It was ok for awhile. Noriko worked at a gas station. She danced again, in a the local ballet. It was ok. She dated a nice man.
And then the fighting had started.
Screaming in the night. Throwing things. The slapping, the breaking things. The fire. She set his car on fire. He caught her sniffing coke in the kitchen on the cutting board where she made their dinner.
He left.
Noriko was gone for three days.
Jill lived on peanut butter sandwiches. She lived on cheese. When the food ran out, she started to learn how to pick locks with a barrette and a bobby pin. She snuck into other apartments when they left to scrounge for food. She was ashamed…but she was starving.
She had one pair of shoes that she mended with duct tape when it separated from its sole. She had to wash her clothes in the sink. She stopped waiting for Noriko to love her again.
And they shut off the water one day. So Jill started washing herself in gas station bathrooms.
Noriko didn't come back. The cops came again. She was in the hospital. Overdose.
And Jill went to another home.
She was sixteen. She was sixteen and lonely. She was a string bean with dark hair that curled around her skinny face. Puberty hadn't been her best friend. She had a little run of acne and braces. The state home put the awful metal ones on her because her teeth were crooked.
She had pigtails and acne and skinny knees.
She would never be a dancer. She stopped crying at some point. She couldn't remember when. But she had just…stopped. It was easier to figure out how to fix your problems when you didn't cry. Crying was for babies.
And she couldn't the last time she'd been a baby.
Jill Valentine was sixteen and spending another month in a group home in the Big Apple. She figured it could be worse. She knew how to pick locks, she had taught herself how to throw a punch, she was scrappy and snarky and strong. She didn't need any damn friends.
So she avoided the other kids.
And she was so lonely it was palpable.
She wondered if she'd ever make a friend. Or if anyone would ever look over and be happy to see her. Or she'd ever find her place in the world.
She kicked her feet in the patch of dirty snow beneath her…and didn't shed a tear.
The morning of his birthday, he woke up feeling pretty good.
He was fourteen. So that was halfway to being a grown up. His friend at school had just had his bar mitzvah. Which meant you were growing into a man.
He glanced at himself in the dirty mirror of the bathroom. He saw big blue eyes and freckles and zits. He didn't see a man.
The shouting was starting.
Which meant the old man was awake and looking for a drink.
And it meant his hopes for a quiet birthday were dashed.
He dressed quickly, wincing. His back was still welted from the lashes the old man had thrown at him last night. It was worse when he was drinking. He started crying and blubbering and snotting and staring at pictures of his dead mother. He started shouting.
"YOU KILLED HER! YOU CAME OUT OF HER AND KILLED HER! SHE WAS MY WORLD!"
And the old man would start hitting him.
They said he'd been a pretty successful cop once. A nice guy. Friendly and funny. Funny? He'd never heard the old man make a joke. Not in fourteen years.
The old man cried a lot. He slapped a lot. Sometimes it was lit cigarettes on the back of the arms when he was really wasted. But usually it was the belt.
The belt.
Someday he was going to come back here and take the belt to the old man.
And he wouldn't get up again.
He was a cop. So no one ever came.
No one ever bothered.
Until the morning of his fourteenth birthday. Because the old man chased him out into the street screaming. He chased him bellowing and shrieking. "YOU STOLE MY CIGS! GIVE 'EM BACK YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOU LITTLE FUCKER! I'M GONNA STICK MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS!"
He'd stolen the old man's cigs. Yep. Why not? It was his birthday. And he wanted one.
He ran across the street. He ducked into the alley.
He started to get into the dumpster where he hid when the bullies at school chased him.
And he heard it.
A squeal of tires. A blaring horn. A thunk. A shout. Another shout. And then? Someone SCREAMING.
And the wail of the siren.
The old man had gone to the hospital.
And he'd gone to a group home.
He kept the cigarettes tucked in his coat. And spent his birthday sleeping in a room with four other boys. Not a sleepover. Not a party.
A moratorium. And the beginning of the rest of his life.
She heard the fighting.
The shouting.
She glanced up and across the yard.
The home was an old Victorian. It was peeling yellow paint and a big porch. It was a ratty little yard with a swing set and a see-saw. In the winter of 1990, it was also covered in snow. Upper New York had seen copious amounts of the white stuff that winter. It was a blizzard for weeks.
It was tampering back now but the piles of it remained like chilly white pockets of dingy gray mess. It meant hats and gloves and sweaters. She had big mittens on her hands and a sock hat on her head the color of piss.
She hated yellow.
Ugly color.
Her gloves were red.
And she hated that too. The color of blood. Blood and snow. Blood and coke. Blood and Noriko. She hated it all.
The fighting drew her eye.
Some fat kid getting slapped around by three bigger ones. He kept throwing up his hands like he'd hit back. They kept kicking him around. He was pudgy and kinda short. He had a floppy mop of strawberry blonde hair. His round little face was dusted with freckles and zits. He wore glasses coke bottle thick and taped together in two places.
They knocked his books out of his hand. She saw them land in a pile of snow. And the biggest of the bunch kicked him right into the mound on his butt.
Laughter.
Jill rose…and rolled her neck.
She wanted to be a cop. She'd decided that the day they'd taken her from Noriko for the last time. Officer Debra Morgan had made jokes. She'd been tall and blonde and pretty. And tough. So tough. She killed bad guys and saved the day. She visited Jill every day.
She was no bullshit.
She had a badge and a gun and POWER. She was a cop.
It sounded pretty fucking good.
Cops helped people. So Jill? She went on over to help the fat kid with the mop of hair.
The biggest bully was named Justin. He was seventeen and thought he was tough. He kept yelling about how he was getting out soon. When he turned eighteen, he was gonna "blow this shit show".
Jill could hardly wait.
He beat up on anything smaller than him.
Jill yelled, "Hey! Leave him alone, you fucking monkey!"
Because Justin looked like a monkey. Hairy and tall. Ugly. With a big flat face. A gorilla.
Justin turned to sneer at her. "Shut up, bean pole. Who asked you? Take your brace face and get the fuck outta here. Who asked you anyways?"
Jill sighed dramatically. The fat kid was getting to his feet. He was searching in the snow for his glasses.
And Jill said, "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"
And made the three bullies laugh.
The smallest one, Ernie, let out a hoot. "You better get outta here, Valentine! We ain't got no problem decking a girl!"
And the tall skinny one, Ben, laughed, "Yeah! Bitches get stitches!"
Jill lifted a brow at them. "Oh yeah? Who first then?"
Ben and Ernie glanced at Justin.
Justin said, "You better beat it, braceface. Or you'll join your fat faced friend over here on your ass. Unless….maybe you'd LIKE that! Maybe this fat tub of lard is your LOVER. YOUR BOYFRIEND?!"
Ernie was laughing like a donkey. "HUBBA HUBBA."
Ben chortled, "Beanpole and Fatty sitting in a tree. Beanpole yelled – You're too fat, get off of me!" It was singsong.
And stupid.
Because they were all so stupid.
Jill said, "That wasn't pretty clever, Ben. You're so smart. I bet it only took you until the fourth grade to learn how to TIE YOUR SHOES."
She glanced at his feet. His shoes?
Not tied.
And now SHE laughed. "I stand corrected."
Ben swung first. Jill ducked and it went over her head.
She planted her foot, drove from her hip, and decked him right in the face.
He went down shouting into the dirty snow.
The fat kid stopped and blinked. Ernie turned and shoved him over into the snow again. Jill called, "Stop letting them push you around!'
And Justin ran at her.
She waited, he came like a charging bull, and Jill jumped right just as he got to her. She grabbed his dirty jacket and his hair and kept on helping him go. She threw him out behind her. He yelped and went onto his face, sliding over the dirty wet ground.
Ernie turned back to push the fat kid again and Jill shouted, "PLANT YOUR FOOT, BALL YOUR FIST, AND SWING!"
And the kid did it. Ernie grabbed for him and the kid threw down his foot, twisted his hips, and put a full on straight right into that ferrety face. It was a GOOD hit. The kid had some power in those fat arms.
Ernie went OVER like he'd been smacked in the face by a plate. Ben grabbed for the fat kid and the kid spun and smacked him in the schnoze with his trapper keeper. It was some pretty good improvisation. The kid was fast on his feet when he put his mind to it.
Justin grabbed for her from the ground. Jill turned and kicked him right in the balls.
She swung her foot back and just…went for it.
Justin screamed like a girl. Ernie and Ben were bleeding and running. It was mayhem. They took off cursing and shouting. Justin was limping and crying and grabbing his junk.
A GOOD DAY.
Jill was laughing so hard.
She stepped up and helped the fat kid pick up his fallen books. He was shorter then her. But she was pretty tall and skinny. And he had a pudgy baby face. But she liked his smile. Good teeth. She was jealous of how straight and white they were.
She said, "I'm Jill Valentine."
"I think you're my best friend." And he laughed. It was a GREAT laugh. Kinda dorky and cute. He kept looking at her like she had the sun coming out of her ass. Which was a totally cool feeling. "You made them your BITCH."
"Me? You did that, dude. I just helped put the gorilla back in his cage."
They sat down on the swings now. The cold air had turned his pudgy little face pink. She figured under all that puppy fat, he was probably a nice looking kid.
He said, "It's my birthday. Shittiest birthday EVER. You know?"
"Yeah. I hear ya. Mine too."
"No shit!?"
"No shit."
"Well…hell…birthday buddies huh?"
Jill grinned a little. "Looks that way. You get any cool gifts?"
"Nah. I'm thinking of having a statue of you made though by a sculptor. Care to "chip" in?"
Jill froze. She blinked. He was grinning. So, the pudgy faced kid was funny. He was punny. He was pretty rad. Jill started laughing.
"That was AWFUL."
Pink faced, he chuckled and shrugged. "I do that. Sometimes."
"'You pun?"
"When the spirit moves me. You don't?"
"I actually do. Often. I would tell you a pun about floating…but it wouldn't go down too well."
They locked eyes. She liked his behind those big fat glasses. Pretty blue. Hers were blue too. But he had thick eyelashes. And the blue was swirly and mixed with gray. Hers were dark. And ugly.
He didn't think so. He thought her eyes were beautiful. He thought SHE was beautiful.
He said, "Thanks for telling me how to throw a punch."
"Dude, you smacked the shit outta those guys. I just gave you the bones to build it."
"You think maybe we can help each other out while we're here? You know, advice and teamwork or whatever?"
"You mean like…be friends?"
They held eyes in the cold snowy air.
He said, "Yeah. I could use one. I don't know about you, but I don't exactly got them growin on trees."
And both grinned.
Jill said, "Yeah. I think that would be ok."
"Cool."
He was trying to put his books back in his pack. His gloved fingers kept slipping on the wet books. She considered and said, "Hey…look here."
She pulled her little knife and took his glove off his hand. She cut the finger tips off. Curious, he let her.
She said, "Helps with traction, yeah? Keeps your hands warm but lets you have some grip."
"Oh, shit. Thanks."
"You bet."
The bell was sounding for dinner.
They both stood up. The kid grabbed his pack from the ground and tossed it on his back. He started toward the house. Jill called, "Hey!"
He turned back, "Yeah?"
"What's your name again?"
"Oh. Oh yeah. It's Leon…Leon Kennedy."
Jill grinned, "You ain't serious right?"
"Yep. Why?"
Dude. Dumbest name EVER. That's an old man name."
And so Jill made her first real friend. And it was a little less lonely in the house.
They spent the winter together in that group home.
He taught her how to do algebra. The kid was fucking smart as hell. Like genius dork smart. He was good with numbers and history and shit. Jill taught him to fight. She taught him to fix stuff. She was a WIZARD with a hammer. If there was a way to make something work, Jill took it apart and put it together until she found it.
Leon was pretty fat, so he wasn't really fast. But he started giving it his best shot. They ran around a lot and rode bikes when the home let them. He was also CLUMSY. He was always falling down. And falling over. He was the worst person alive on staying on his feet.
They played Dungeons and Dragons and cards. Jill was so good at cards. She beat him everytime. He suspected she was cheating but he didn't care.
They joked.
And joked.
AND JOKED.
Kennedy was so funny. He never stopped joking. He was all good humor and laughter. He punned about the weather and the world. He watched the news A LOT. He knew shit. He had some kind of interesting fact to tell you about almost everything.
They built a club house in the woods behind the group home. He planned it. He drew the design. They talked about it. And Jill built it.
Teamwork.
They were good at it.
They left notes when the other couldn't get there for some reason. They'd pin it to the tree.
The first one she found said:
J-
If you get there before I do – don't give up on me…
I'll meet you when my chores are through – I don't how long I'll be.
But I'm not gonna let you down – just you wait and see.
And between now and then? Until I get there? Try not to blow up too much shit.
-L
Jill laughed and kept the note.
Jill showed him how to use a knife one afternoon. He was nervous about it. But she convinced him that fists might not always be an option. She was a ninja!
He watched her slice and stab. She said, "Some of it was TV, ya know? I watched this old Kung Fu movie when I got here. This dude with a knife? He just TORE IT UP. So, I stole this from Justin's bag one night…and just started copying the moves."
Jill was always stealing stuff. It was probably bad. But he didn't care about that either. She only took stuff from assholes and bad people. And she usually gave it to people that needed it anyway.
He got there first one evening. And her note was stuck to the tree for him.
L-
If you get there before I do – don't give up on me.
I'll meet you when my chores are through – I don't know how long I'll be.
But I'm not gonna let you down – just you wait and see.
But between now and then? Until I get there? Try not to break a leg!
-J
She tried to teach him to pick a lock one afternoon but he was kinda hopeless.
However, when she stole Ernie's BB gun one day and they ran off with cans into the woods, she figured out where his magic was.
The second she passed him that BB gun – his face lit up. He turned on those cans and started shooting. He was pretty damn good. He hit four outta five on the first try.
"WHOA!"
"I know!"
"In those big fucking glasses too!"
Leon grinned, wide and happy. "Right? But you know what?"
"What?"
"I just calculated the wind and the resistance factor plus made some corrections for distance and the angle of my arms…and BOOM. It's MATH."
It was all math to this kid. She kinda loved him.
They had peanut butter sandwiches and practiced kicking and punching. She rolled a lot. He tried but fell over a lot and huffed. He was pretty fat.
And she kinda loved that too.
Jill liked to blow stuff up. She was always making bombs in cans. They'd set them off and run around laughing. She was able to make bombs out of the weirdest shit.
They talked about their families. They were having chips and hotdogs one day in the warm Spring air. They were sitting in their clubhouse and looking at nudey magazines they'd stolen from Justin's bag.
And laughing.
Jill said, "This girl has a TEARDROP on her bajingo!"
Leon chortled, "What?"
"You know! Her COOCH. Her crotch."
"Oh." Leon leaned over and looked at it. "It's bare! I didn't think girls were bare when they were all grown up."
Jill laughed and slapped his arm. "They aren't, Kennedy, you goof. She SHAVES it clearly."
"Oh. Haha! Shit. Why? Is the hair itchy?"
"Mine isn't." Jill shrugged. "You don't have hair on your junk or what?"
"I do. But I'm a dude."
"So?"
"Dudes are hairy."
She glanced at him. He wasn't hairy. He was just floppy reddish hair and grins. His arm hair was pale. She didn't see hairy. She laughed and said, "You think her bajingo is sad though?"
"Maybe. How do you make a bajingo happy though?"
"I dunno. Kiss it maybe."
And Leon blushed. He was so fucking cute. He blushed. Jill chuckled and shoulder bumped him.
He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.
Jill said, "I'm gonna be a cop someday."
She set the magazine down. She leaned on the wall. And she shared one of his stolen smokes with him. They were SO careful on smoking them. There were so few. And they only did it at night when they snuck out.
Leon nodded, "Me too. My old man was the WORST cop. I'm gonna be a GREAT one. You know? A hero."
She laughed a little. "Oh yeah? Because all cops are heroes."
"Oh, but I am. I'm gonna save the world. You just watch and see."
She grinned at him. "I believe ya. I do. Me? I just want to kick asses and take names. Maybe I'll join the service first or something. You know? Like jump out of planes and stuff. That could be cool."
"Oh, yeah? I don't know. I like the idea of just being a cop forever! I could see that as being the best fucking job. All guns and killing bad guys. Saving people. Could be cool. Just keeping them out of the dark, ya know?"
Kennedy hated the dark. The dark meant his Dad and the belt. It meant being alone and afraid. He wasn't AFRAID of the DARK exactly. He just didn't want to be in it…ever. He slept with a flashlight. She got it. She slept with her knife.
Jill nodded a little. "Yeah. For fucking sure. You'll be a great cop, Kennedy. Seriously. Like…you'll do more in one day then some cops do in like fifty years, ya know? Kill a thousand bad guys and put a thousand more in jail. Maybe you'll be like Magnum P.I. or MacGuyer. Maybe you'll like uncover a conspiracy and hunt down the bad guys…you'll have a big showdown and save the girl."
Leon chuckled. "In one day?"
"Why not? Life is weird."
"For real."
"And then like…you become a hero right? You start kicking asses and taking names. Maybe we could do it together. Like a team. Like Hawaii 5.0."
"Oh shit shit! Or Lethal Weapon. But you're Murtaugh."
"Pfft. I'm Riggs."
"You kidding? You aren't funny enough."
And now they laughed. They were always laughing.
Jill said, "It doesn't matter anyway right? Wherever we go…it's better then what we left behind."
"You bet. Don't look back right?"
"Right. You just trip on what's in front of you and fall on your face."
"Fuck yeah."
He saved up money he found and started mowing grass for spare bucks. Jill went around stealing it from the other shitty kids in the home.
On their birthday the following winter, they surprised each other with gifts.
He gave her a pocket knife with her name inscribed on it. It was a Swiss Army knife. He said, "You can pick locks with it AND kill people! You'll be like the master of it!"
"The master of unlocking?"
And they laughed.
It felt really good to have someone in her life that liked to laugh. That made stupid puns and didn't make things weird. That bought her a little knife and helped her kick the asses of bullies.
A friend. Maybe the first real one she'd ever had.
And she loved it.
She gave him a Zippo lighter. She'd bought it at the gas station down the road. It had a star on it. He looked at her and she said, "No more dark right? Not anymore."
It was totally great to have a friend.
And then Noriko came for her.
She was seventeen. She was old enough to be on her OWN. But she wasn't really. Not quite. Not yet.
She saw her show up. She had a new husband. She was "clean". She was apologetic. She was full of SHIT.
Jill ran from the home and into the woods. She climbed into the tree house.
And he came up after her.
She never cried.
But she was now.
She threw her arms around him. She clung. She whispered, "I don't want to go."
And Leon hugged her so tight. He said, "It's ok. Remember, don't look back right? What happens when we look back?"
And Jill sniffed and hiccupped a little, "We trip and fall on our face."
"That's right. Don't look back, Jill. Go jump outta airplanes. And don't fall on your face."
Jill laughed a little, wetly. She leaned back. He was so short. She had to bend down.
And she kissed him.
His face turned beet red. He barely breathed. She leaned back and petted his floppy hair. She said, "You're my best friend, Leon Kennedy."
And he squeaked a little, "You're the only friend, I ever really had Jill."
She climbed down the ladder. They stood in the woods in the warm summer.
And she said, "Keep that lighter right? No more dark."
"No more dark. Keep that knife. Remember…you keep unlocking doors? Eventually you'll walk through the right one."
Jill grabbed his hands, she squeezed. "I hope you're a big hero cop, Leon Kennedy. I hope you save a thousand people and get the girl and kill all the bad guys."
He sniffled. He nodded a little. "I hope you unlock a thousand doors, Jill. And kick a thousand asses. And blow up a thousand bad guys."
They hugged once more.
Jill backed up. She swiped her hands over her cheeks. "I'm gonna miss you, Riggs."
And Leon wiped his face too. "Me too…Murtaugh."
Jill whispered, "I'll come back. Maybe I'll come back."
"Yeah. Maybe. Maybe you will."
She said, "If you get there before I do…don't give up on me."
He laughed a little, wetly, "I'm not gonna let you down…just you wait and see."
"I'll miss you."
And she ran off into the woods without looking back.
Never look back…it's how you tripped and landed on your face.
But at the edge of the woods?
She kinda looked back anyway. And for that moment?
The whole revolved around one boy…and one girl.
And he whispered, "I'll miss you, too."
The summer of 1995, Jill Valentine was fresh out of Delta Force – where she'd been known for her demolitions expertise – and preparing herself to climb THE WALL.
The Wall was the climbing portion of the recruit obstacle course.
The police academy was mostly an old boys club. It was guys and sexist remarks and a lot of eye rolling. But she'd come from the army. She was immune.
She'd been a dude with tits in her unit.
She was a dude with tits in the academy.
Her long hair was in a sloppy ponytail. Her long legs were poking out the bottom of the navy shorts they issued. The gray shirt with the academy logo emblazed on the breast pocket was snug and tied in a thick knot at her waist. It left parts of her little flat belly bare.
The skinny knees and coltish string bean looks had blossomed into a curvy butt and hips that required strict diet and exercise to keep from turning into a buxom gal. The missing breasts of her youth had EXPLODED after she'd hit eighteen. She was all big boobs in a sports bra now, to her annoyance. Her body liked to be hourglass…which was fine…but it meant working out like mad to keep herself fit enough to fight.
The braces were gone, the acne having long fled and left a smooth porcelain countenance in its place. The face was pretty – girl next door – and graced with a fringe of feather dark bangs and pretty thick eyelashes. The robin's egg blue of her eyes were studying the wall now – trying to find a way to the top.
She'd fallen twice. She needed to get up the fucking thing. It was her Moby Dick. It was her classic nemesis. She was going to DESTROY it.
From behind her, a voice said: "I don't think staring at it will make it relent."
She looked over her shoulder.
Redfield.
Nice guy. All big teeth and smiles. Tall and kind skinny. He stepped up next to her.
She knew a lot about him. He was ACES with a pistol. He was funny. He liked stirring up enough trouble to get the evil stink eye on him. He was pranking the shit outta people and getting admonished all the time.
He did NOT like authority. She knew he'd left the service himself over it.
Nice face – gold skin and big blue eyes the color of the ocean. He had the start of a pretty rockin five o'clock shadow at 8 a.m. And long arms graced with big shoulders. He could pack on muscle if he wanted. But he was pretty lean.
She figured he was six one at least. He kind towered over her as they stood together looking at the wall.
Chris Redfield? He liked her face. Good face. Pretty without trying or being obvious. A little dip in that chin made for a thumb. A big bottom lip asking to be nibbled on.
He liked her.
She wasn't interested in anyone. Ever. She was almost cold. She joked, sure, and she was friendly enough. But she froze dudes at twenty paces when they even THOUGHT about trying to hit on her. She liked him though. Because he didn't bother.
He just slung shit at her like she was a guy.
So, she said, tongue in cheek, "I could take your route…and punch it."
Running joke.
He was so volatile. He punched everything he came across. He just got pissed when he couldn't figure it out and -pop- right in the face. He punched the wall. He punched the table when he couldn't get his pistol assembled fast enough. He punched his locker one afternoon when he couldn't get it open.
She'd come up behind him, reached around him, and picked the lock on it.
Deadpan, she'd lifted a brow at him, "Try brains before fists, big guy."
He kinda liked her.
Drolly, Chris mused, "Possibly. But to what purpose? Will punching it make it drop down so you can get your bubbly butt up to the top? Unlikely."
Jill pursed her lips, considering, "Hmm. Probably. But then again?"
She took a running step at the wall.
He watched her and she sprang up. Her determination was unparalleled. It was all hands and feet and fighting.
Amused, he ran to the wall and went up beside her.
They picked their way up. She watched his arms bunch and coil. It was a nice show.
About two thirds of the way up, he watched hers start shaking. She was flagging. She was going to drop. It was a long way down.
And Jill?
She HATED falling.
He watched her slip, watched her dangle. She cursed loudly with her sailor's mouth.
His hand shot out, it caught her flailing hand. Without looking at her, Chris jerked her arm and kinda…launched her. He launched her, just a little, up about two feet. She grabbed the wall and stuck like a burr.
He didn't look at her, he just kept on climbing.
Jill smirked a little. She grabbed the next protrusion and kept on going too.
She made it a few more feet and started falling again. Her foot slipped. She slung sideways.
He grabbed her belt and tossed her up again.
She said nothing, she just grabbed the wall and kept on going.
He reached the top first. He rose and looked down at her. No judgment. No jokes. He kept on standing there, just watching her.
She was three feet from the top. Her arms were shaking SO BAD. She reached, she missed, she went right and tried to hang on. She grappled, missed, and started to go backward.
He just put his hand down to her.
And she grabbed it.
A smack of palms. A slap of skin.
He didn't propel her. He didn't pull. He just held on.
She found her footing. She grabbed the wall.
She kept his hand in hers and finished climbing.
At the top, breathing and blowing hard, she slapped her thigh and hooted. She slapped his arm and did a little jig. She pulled him into it with her. Although he was AWFUL at dancing.
He kinda dug her.
And then?
She hugged him.
She put an arm around his waist and squeezed. "Redfield, you are a real pal. Beer?"
"Speakin my language, kid."
Buddies. Pals. Because he didn't let her fall.
They hung out. She was feisty and funny. She was all kinds of weird. She talked about the likelihood of aliens on Earth. She was OBSESSED with Dungeons and Dragons.
She liked playing darts. He was better.
She was better at cards.
They went up the wall again.
She only needed him to put his hand down to her once.
They ran the obstacle course with guns and vests. She was pretty good at finding cover with weird shit. Him?
ALL about kicking in doors.
He kicked them in, he cleared, he shot. He NEVER missed.
They didn't have time for boys or girls and romance. Stupid shit like that? Seriously. They got beers and hid in the quad getting drunk after simulations.
She drank him under the table and poured him into his dorm room laughing.
He talked a lot about his parents. They'd died when he was barely eighteen. His baby sister, too young for being alone, had become his.
Jill paused in mid swing. He was talking as they were rolling and fighting on the mat one day.
She paused in mid-swing, he caught her arm, and he slung her up. She went over his shoulder, rolled down his back and between his legs, grabbed his big thighs and JERKED. He went onto his back, Jill hooked a leg over his hips, and she pinned him.
Amused, he lay on his back, breathing heavy.
She leaned over him, sweaty. "You adopted your kid sister?"
"Yep."
"At EIGHTEEN."
"Yep."
"…ugh."
His face split into a big grin. "Not usually the first reaction."
"You boyscout. Really? Who does that?"
"A person with integrity. Clearly."
"Clearly." Jill offered him a hand up. He rose, getting his water bottle. They shared, eyeing each other.
Chris said, "I was in the Air Force. I was making ok money. She needed me. I signed some papers and we got an apartment. It kept her in school. She was twelve. It was the only thing I could do. I got temporary leave and we got her set up with a care taker while I was away. They reassigned me to a pine pony job as a pilot. Sucked. But it kept me stateside to take care of her."
"She's sixteen now?"
"Yup. And a good kid. Only gets in shit trouble occasionally. She smoked some weed and ran around some for a bit there. But she figured it out ok."
Jill watched his face. She laughed a little. "I'm kinda crushin on you a little, Redfield."
He grinned, amused. "Yeah?"
"Sure. You fucking boyscout. For a pansy ass wimp, you're a good dude."
"God damn, Valentine. That's like a big hug with words."
They never really used first names. It was all last names and good times. She felt like he was kinda her brother or something. It was good stuff.
She'd never had a brother.
They went up the wall again. He didn't have to pull her up at all.
She reached the top and did the jig. He did some kind of a weird wiggle walk and had her dying with laughter. And it was a good hug that time. All arms and squeezing.
Jill was such a good girl. Her superiors loved her. She did all the right things and said the right things and was patient and friendly.
Chris put his tongue in his cheek and gave her shit, "You're a brown noser, Valentine. How's that shit smell?"
"Like roses, Redfield. You should know since you're a pain in my ASS."
She was always doing that…making puns. It was cute. And kinda dumb. He liked it.
He got wasted as hell after they graduated the academy and picked a fight in a bar with some rednecks over a game of pool. Jill helped him whip some ass in the alley. She was his best friend.
She poked him into his bed with a roll of her eyes.
"Get it together, Redfield. You're gonna get yourself in a fucking mess one of these days."
"Pfft. I'm BULLETPROOF. I will just punch the mess in the face."
He was something else.
"You think you can just force the world to your will all the time?"
"Why not?"
"You can't just take what you want and punch the rest of it in the face, Redfield. It don't work that way."
"Fuck it. Only live once right? Regrets for assholes and pussies. I figure…grab it and punch it in the face. Looking back on what you lost out on? For losers with no balls."
Looking back got you nothing. Just falling flat on your face.
It wasn't the first time she'd thought about that kid in the years since she'd been in the home. She'd gone looking for him a few times. But a name and a group home in New York was like a needle in a haystack.
Amused, Jill shook her head. "You never look back?"
"Nope. Back gets you nothing but pain, kid. Forget it. Fuck it. And move on."
What a big liar. His parents were behind him. And he missed them all the time.
But he was full of shit and kinda great. Her buddy. So she patted his face.
"Get some sleep, tough guy. You graduated, punched some face tonight, had some drinks, lost at pool. Not a bad day."
"If I'd got some ass, it'd be perfect."
"Four outta five ain't bad, my friend."
"Night ain't over yet."
"Oh, yeah? You gonna get some ass from Johnson when he gets back here? He's kinda girly looking. So maybe he's your type."
She poked his blankets around him and patted his face. "Not Johnson."
He grabbed her wrist and spilled her down on him.
She blinked, opened her mouth to crack a joke, and he put his tongue in her mouth.
He rolled her to her back beneath him. He was all lips and tongue. She made a sound and her hands came up. She thought how stupid it was to have thought of him like a brother.
His hands were on under her skirt. It was denim and paired with cowboy boots. She felt her head spin. His fingers poked around her panties, sliding and gripping.
Jill gasped, and he popped his mouth off hers.
He found her over her panties. His fingers slid under them. She was shaking. She was excited. She kissed his ear.
And then?
He started snoring.
Jill froze. He was snoring in her ear.
Her mouth twitched. She shook her head. Her arms curled over his back and patted.
And she laughed. What a drunken doofus.
She rolled out from under him and left him snoring in his bed.
He was her pal. And such a goof. He probably wouldn't even remember the kissing or the groping. And it just made her laugh to think of it.
Amused, she keyed herself into her room.
Annette, her room mate, said, "Hey girl. Good night?"
"Sure."
"You look like somebody tossled you good. Redfield?"
"HAH. No. Just a fought a couple of drunks in the street. You?"
Annette shifted. A pretty girl with red hair and big eyes. "No luck. Tried to get laid. Failed. But somebody dropped by for you."
Jill lifted her brows and set her purse on her bed. "Yeah?"
"Yep. He left that." She gestured to desk. The desk had all kinds of stupid girl shit on it. Bobbleheads and pens with fluffy poofs on them, perfume, notebooks with shiny covers, and pictures of friends and pets.
And a letter.
Just a little folded letter.
Jill picked it up, curious, "Who left it?"
"Uh…tall guy? Blonde? BIG blue eyes." Annette – cop – sorta bad with descriptions. "Rookie, clearly. Just starting out here. I told him it was our last night. He looked kinda sad. But then he wrote that. You know some rookies?"
"Not off the top of my head." Jill perched on the desk. She opened the letter.
And nearly died.
J-
If you get there before I do – don't give up on me.
I'll meet you when my trainings through – I don't know how long I'll be.
But I'm not gonna let you down – just you wait and see.
Between now and then? Until I see you? Don't blow up too much shit.
P.S. I still have the lighter.
-L
Her hand slapped to her collarbone. She laughed. Her eyes sprang with tears. She said, excitedly, "How long ago was this!?"
"I dunno. A couple hours? Why?"
Jill opened the door to the room. She raced down the hallway. She hurried over the campus laughing.
She hurried up the stairs to the Raccoon Hall – the dorm for the rookies just coming on.
But the new class wasn't in yet. Not yet. It was empty.
And so she moved to the desk where the Resident Advisor was getting his shit ready. She said, "I need to leave a note. Is that ok?"
"Sure? Why not. For who?"
"New recruit. Kennedy?"
"Sure? Whatever."
Jill wrote quickly, laughing. She wrote:
L-
I took a job in Raccoon City. Special Tactics and Rescue. I'm kinda a BIG deal.
If you get there before I do – don't give up on me.
I'll meet you when your trainings through – I don't know how long that'll be.
But between now and then, until I see you again? Try not to fall off that wall too much. How in the hell could YOU possibly have passed the obstacle course!?
P.S. I still have the knife.
-J
She left him the note. And she hurried back to her room, laughing.
In the morning, Chris helped her load up her gear onto the bus to Raccoon City. He shifted a little and said, "Ok…so…maybe I owe you an apology."
Jill, amused, looked at his face. "How so?"
"I groped you."
Oh. This was too good. Fucking boyscout. He was going to apologize for feeling her up. She kinda loved it.
"Mmm. You pig. I should smack the shit outta you."
Chris grinned a little. "No hard feelings?"
"You kidding? It was a kiss, Redfield. Not rape. It wasn't too bad…your breath though? Awful."
And they laughed, climbing onto the bus. They settled into a seat together.
She watched him disappear a quarter. He sure did like stupid magic tricks. She looked out the window as the bus rolled off to the main road.
And wondered about Leon Kennedy.
Chris said, "Watch this."
And he popped a flower out of his hand for her. She smirked, impressed. He winked at her.
She put her head on his shoulder as they hummed down the highway toward the future. It felt really good to have someone in her life that just got her. That made her laugh and did stupid magic tricks. And didn't make things weird.
That helped her kick the asses of bullies.
A friend. A real one.
The second one she'd ever really had.
And for a moment?
The whole world revolved around one boy…and one girl.