Your Guardian Angel.
Summary: [Post RE6] Where did Chris and Jill end up?
– –
I walk off of the commercial plane and into the airport. I wish the BSAA would invest in private jets or something. There's a crowd of press reporters left and right, awaiting to hear the latest terror; I just want to go home. My eyes feel heavy from the plane ride and the lack of sleep; regardless, they skim the crowd for Jill and her chemically altered blonde hair. I wonder if she's still mad at me. When she emerges from the crowd of obnoxious cameras, her appearance shocks me. Her hair has become regained its brunette tone, and she has regained some of her color. Her Payne's gray eyes are still as beautiful as ever. I fall to my knees in front of her; who could care about what the press will say? My arms pull her closer to me, and my head presses against her waist. Her hand rests gently on my head, slowly stroking my hair.
"I'm home." I declare.
"Yes," she kneels down beside me, a smile growing on her face. "My soldier has come home."
–i–
I carry my luggage into the apartment. I left on such short notice that I ended up losing my apartment, so for now, Jill has offered to allow me to sleep on her couch, although we know I won't be on the couch. I place my bag on the floor at the base of the couch. She disappears into her bedroom and reappears with a box. She sits on the couch with the box in her lap and pats the space next to her for me to sit. I comply, and she pushes her hair out of her face as she procures little knick-knacks that are immediately familiar.
"They just threw your stuff out in the street, so I picked up all that I could and all that wasn't already broken." Her fingers fumble around the rims of the box. "I can't remember what most of these things mean to you, but I know that you probably wanted to keep these."
"This," I reach into the box and grab a rectangular, velor box. "Is yours."
"What?" She stares at me; I had gotten a letter from her psychiatrist that her memory has regressed. It looks like we're back to square one.
"I got this for your birthday, but you didn't want to lose it or break it and so I held onto it for you." She opens the box to reveal an inlaid silver chain with a simple garnet gem attached.
"I love it." She smiles, and it's deja vu for me because she said the same thing the first time around.
"I'm glad you do." She looks at me. "I missed you."
"I missed you too." I pull her into a hug, but it feels empty since she doesn't remember everything which means I can't hold her the way I want to because I don't know how much she remembers. It's frustrating.
–ii–
After the Wesker horror was over, that bastard still lingered in our lives. Jill chose to forget everything and hide it all away encrypted in one corner of her mind. Slowly, we made gradual progress in piecing everything together. It would be visits with the psychiatrist all the time because someone suggested maybe a professional would be able to help open up that box of memories. The BSAA paid for it, and our pieces fell into place faster and faster until she remembered almost everything. That truly put my mind to peace, especially after three years of continuous tries, and I thought that this was it. We would be happy and that was all I wanted, but we both had jobs, albeit the same job. I had avoided my duty to stop bioterrorism to maintain my duty to Jill, but bioterrorism reared its ugly head in the form of a letter, requesting that I go out to Edonia. I was going to refuse, but Jill and I got into a fight. I thought that would be the last straw for us and she didn't want anything to do with me, so I took the job and went out to Edonia. I never thought I would be gone for so much longer.
–iii–
"Chris, can I talk to you alone?" Jill's psychiatrist asks.
"Sure," I nod, and Jill walks into the hallway with her coat.
"The year that you were gone was when she regressed. Is there any reason why that would happen?" The psychiatrist waits with her pen to paper. I sigh.
"We got into a fight, so I left." There it is, blunt and honest.
"What was the fight about?" What was it about? Oh yeah.
"We fought about her going back to the BSAA, and I know it sounds foolish. But she sounded like she wanted me gone, and I already was requested to go to Edonia. I left because I thought she had enough of me." I remember when I was sitting on the plane on the runway and already regretting my decision.
"She withdrew, just like before, choosing to forget all these things as if to defend herself, but maybe, you can get her to remember faster than I can. Professionals don't always have the answer." I shake his hand and walk out into the hallway while slipping on my jacket. Jill smiles and hesitates but decides to hold my hand.
"You look nice today." I compliment.
"Thank you, you look great." I want to kiss her, but I can't tell if that's okay. "Enough about me, we just spent an hour talking about me. I want to know about you; it's been a year."
"Me?" A frown found its way to my face. "There's nothing to really talk about, busy work and all." I can't make her deal with a broken me when she still has to work on putting herself back together. She's more important.
"I've been hearing that you're a hero, and I'm pretty sure that you're not a hero for busy work."
"Well, it's nothing special, just work." A long pause of silence draws out. "I'm not a hero."
–iv–
As it turns out, I was wrong, and I am going to be sleeping on the couch. I guess that shows where she and I stand. She is sitting at the table reading a book, and I realize that we have fallen further apart than before. I stand up, walk over to the table, and kiss her. Her eyes grow wide at the random act, but something seems to trigger a memory in her head. She kisses me back; her arms find their way around my neck, a step forward. Her face is flushed with the slightest bit of pink, and her brunette hair ghosts about her shoulders.
"I'm here for you." She whispers and catches me off guard.
"What?" I stare at her.
"You're never like this." As happy as I am to hear her talk like that towards me, I don't know what to say. "You never hesitate."
"Guess there's a first for everything."
"You can tell me." Her hand rests on my cheek.
"I'm fine." I feign a smile. "What have you been up to this past year?"
"This and that, nothing too exciting." I notice that all her pictures are off the wall, propped against the wall on the floor.
"Redecorating?" I ask, motioning towards the frames. She hesitates.
"I don't know why, but I just didn't feel like looking at some of the pictures." I walk over to the nearest frame and look at its content: S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team.
"There we are," I laugh playfully. She stares harder at the picture where I pointed. My eyes wander there too, and I realize that where I pointed has Jill and I and Wesker. A tear slips down her face, and she quickly wipes it away.
"Why am I –?" I put the picture back on the ground; it is facing the wall again.
"It's nothing." I'd rather not talk about it again.
"Yes, it is something, Chris." She challenges me.
"Jill, I don't want to talk about it." I pull her into my arms, but she tries to pull away.
"I can't remember, and if you don't tell me, I –" I kiss her.
"Do you really want to know?" She nods and buries her face into my shoulder. "I failed, and you got hurt. It was all my fault."
"That doesn't seem right."
"But it is." I can feel her frown into my shoulder. Just tell her the truth. "The other man next to us in the photo is Albert Wesker." She involuntarily shivers; whether it was in response to the name or because she was cold, I don't know. "It was 2006, and we were looking for Oswell Spencer, a founder of Umbrella. We went to his mansion to confront him, but we were late and found him dead on the ground, like the guards we found earlier that night." I hold her tightly, and maybe, I'm overreacting and the only one that doesn't like talking about this. Selfish isn't it? "And there he was, Albert Wesker, the traitor. He was our S.T.A.R.S. team captain, but he turned his back on us and pumped himself with viruses. We fought with him, and he would have killed me. But you – you saved me and tackled him through the window, sacrificing yourself, and I stayed there for hours, screaming your name and hoping for an answer. BSAA agents had to force me out of the godforsaken building, and you were declared dead. I didn't believe it."
"Chris," she stares at me.
"I know I failed, and you paid the price."
"I wanted to save you because where would I be without you?" She smiles morosely but reassuringly. "I can't remember most things, and I would never get them back without you."
"But –!" I want her to be mad; why isn't everyone as critical as they should be?
"You saved me, and I remember better with you. It does horrify me when I dwell on my past too much, but I always find myself smiling because for every dark, terror drenched memory there's also you, going across the world to find and bring me back." She laughs lightheartedly. "I could go even far enough to say that you, Chris Redfield, are my guardian angel."
"But I failed."
"And then you came to save me again when you could have just given up, but you didn't because you always watch over me. You didn't fail; the world just got in your way. That's not your fault at all."
A/N: Inspired by "Your Guardian Angel" by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.
~FromPrussiaWithLove.