A/N: This is my first Resident Evil fanfic (so please be gentle). Quite honestly done on impulse for a friend of mine on Tumblr and based on a picture (link below!).

Link to photo inspiration: h t t p: / adaw8leonhelp .deviantart .com /gallery /2943 7073# /d3f 56vh

To littlemissredfield: I hope you like it!

Chris Redfield

It is said "Time heals all wounds."

I must not be a very patient man. All I want to do is take you in my arms. Hold your body close to mine and make you feel safe. But to say that I would stop there would be a blatant lie. I'm ashamed to say that other...impulses come to mind.

But I must refrain from falling through with my impulses. You don't need me and my ulterior motives right now. You need the support and love, all of which I would gladly give you.

You moved in with me, your apartment rented out to a family months ago and your stuff put in storage. I wanted you to move in with me and stay in Claire's old room. You didn't want to at first, not wanting to "take advantage of me" as you said. But I was persistent and you gave in to my request. I still laugh when I think of how you thanked me a hundred times in one day.

"Thanks Chris." you said and a smile, such a small ghost of a smile appeared on your face. When that smile left, I had wanted to voice out for you to continue with that smile. "What are friends for?" I said instead. I made vow to myself for you and I plan on seeing it through. I would make that smile of yours return. One that you've shown me before when you were healthy and before you made your sacrifice for my life. Large, radiant, and so full of life. How I've missed that smile.

I had hoped us moving in together would be enough to help you get better. Your new room is on the other side of this wall of my room, but never have we felt so distant. There were days that you didn't want to leave your bed, much less your room. Hysterical sobs and screams shatter several peaceful nights and I would find you thrashing on your bed. I would try my best to calm you, avoiding several of your fists and clawed hands, and cradle you in my arms. You'd sob into my chest while I rocked you back and forth, repeating "It's ok. I'm here." to you til your fatigue won and you fell asleep.

Then there were times when it felt like you were back to your old self. You'd peak into the kitchen where I would be making breakfast. ...Alright, "attempting" to make breakfast and you'd chuckle at me for cursing the eggs for exploding and sending small bits of oil to burn my hand. I'd put down a plate of toast in front of you, the only thing I could manage not to burn into cinders and we'd joke and talk like nothing ever happened. Even a laugh would escape your pale pink lips and I felt a swell of accomplishment deep in my chest for making you laugh.

The laughter and smiles subsided and then you reverted back to being solemn and quiet. Like something just reminded you that you weren't supposed to smile or laugh. I know there are wounds, more emotional and mental then physical, that have kept you up at night. But you're not the only one up at night, plagued by nightmares.

The people who's life I've had to snuff out. "It was self defense. You had no choice." as I've been told. But the guilt weighs in on me none the less. Their faces, rage uncompromising, twisting humanly features and then it would change by just a pull of the trigger into one pained and anguished. Men and women, young and old. It was enough to make such a large man such as myself weep.

Other nights, other nightmares would strike fear into me. It was of the man who had caused us all to suffer. Albert Wesker...even in death, he taunts me in my dreams. In these nightmares, it's always at the Spencer Estate. Spencer's old corpse of a body lying on the ground with a fist sized hole in his chest and Wesker standing over him, the glow of his red eyes piercing through the black sunglasses.

I aim my gun at his head, ready to fire if he so much as moves an inch. But then someone steps out behind him...you Jill. It was the you I saw in Africa. Blonde hair when it should be it's usual chocolate brown, blue battlesuit, a fist sized metal scarab that was pumping you with P30 and under Wesker's control. But while you looked so different, you gave me this look...you knew who I was and weren't under any control.

He grabbed you, held you up by your neck and I couldn't move, something was holding my feet down. I had to helplessly watch him choke you, you clawing at his hands for release and air. Then your blue eyes find mine, pleading for help that I wanted to give, but couldn't. A sickening crack whipped into the air and you went limp in his hand, a smirk forming on his face. He turns his head to me and tossed your lifeless body out the window. Whatever hold I was under released me and I ran forward, firing my gun at Wesker.

His smirk turned to a large grin, baring his animalistic fangs while he dodged my bullets. Rapidly he makes his way to me and grabs me up by the throat.

"Chris...it's quite a shame that you failed to save Miss Valentine." he said, a wave of guilt washes over me and he raises his fist, ready to shove it into my chest. For some reason, I don't fight his hold nor try to fight him in any way to avoid death. In a slow motion fashion, his fist is coming towards me, going fof the kill, and the only thought that can come to mind is "I'm sorry Jill."

I would wake up from this horrid nightmare, in a sweat, looking around my room and inspecting shadows to see if Wesker would appear to continue the nightmare. He wasn't in my room, he was dead. But it didn't stop me everytime I wake from that nightmare to tip-toe to your room, opening the door a crack and making sure that you were still there. Sighing with relief to see that you were still there...still here. You didn't see how I was when everyone presumed you were dead. In the simplest of words, I was a complete wreck.

Sleepless nights, my eyes closed just to see that scene re-playing itself over and over again causing me to have insomnia. Self loathing and guilt consumed me, body and soul, to the point where I thought I would lose my mind. A memorial was held in your honor and our Chief wanted me to give a speech about you. I was up on the podeum, your picture enlarged with a white lily wreath hung around it. I looked to the crowd and I couldn't say a word, not a damn word even though I knew was supposed to read the paper in front of me calling you a hero and a "brave soldier to have fought til the end."

But I couldn't say those words. They shouldn't have had to come out of my mouth because...it was my fault. All my fault. So I stepped down, the black tie and the suit were suffocating me. Barry got up and tried to comfort me, but I shook his hand off and walked away. With time off, I spent days in my hole of an apartment, wallowing in my guilt. I even had some slight deranged hope that I could numb the pain with alcohol. But you know how there is little solace in that idea. No one, not Barry, not Carlos, not Rebecca, and not even Claire, could get me out of my guilt trip.

The only thing that helped me out of the that abyss of self loathing was the hope, no...the utter belief that you were alive. It was a belief that came when we couldn't find your body or Wesker's at the bottom of the cliff. Though I was upset not finding Wesker's dead corpse as I had expected, but if there was a chance for him to be alive after a fall down a cliff, then there was a chance you were alive too. That thought alone brought me back into reality, the reality that there was still a battle to fight against a viral outbreak upon the unsuspecting world. I built my body up, finding my spare time to molding my muscles so that I may be able to stand a more fighting chance if I ever get a re-encounter with Wesker. But the hope of seeing you again, Jill, that kept me going.

I didn't expect you to be in Africa as the hooded figure nor to be under Wesker's control. When Wesker, tauntingly, pulled off the hood and though you had changed your appearance...it was still you Jill. Seeing you alive was a massive relief to me, an unknown weight lifting from my chest. For a split moment, it didn't even bother me that just moments ago you were about to snap my arm off. Just seeing you alive was enough to spark me into action. But with that thing on your chest, you were under Wesker's control and I would do anything to free you from it.

I could only call you in hopes that you remember who you really were along with dodging your attacks. A fear sparked into me, it coursed through me along with adrenaline. What if you never remember me? I tugged the scarab off your chest and you were free. You were back. Jill, you came back to me. After firing rockets aimed at Wesker's head and blowing him back into hell where he belongs, I couldn't wait to get you home where you belong. Though you were in pain, haunted by what Wesker made you go through, I'm still pretty goddamn happy to have you here.

You made me sane again.

I would do anything to have you close to me.

Jill...I need you.

Jill Valentine

I don't deserve this.

You've allowed me into your home, my previous apartment already have other occupants to call it their home. I felt so out of tune when I returned home, like I was dreaming and my body forgot how to move accordingly. And a thought struck fear into me when I returned, paralyzing me from the inside. Was this a dream? A dream I'm having while I lay in my mind and my puppet of a body obeys the whims of a sociopath.

I would expect his voice to wake me from this wonderful dream and tell me to infect someone, or worse yet, kill you. If this was a dream, I was going to enjoy it. If this was a dream, then this was a beautiful escape from the atrocities that awaited me if I woke up. But it was a cruel reminder of what I couldn't have while under Wesker's control. I even resorted to asking you if I was dreaming and you put your arm around my shoulder, making me feel so warm and safe. "No Jill, it's not a dream."

I didn't know what to do next. Then you asked me to live with you and I couldn't say yes to such a thing. There had to be a limit to how much you've helped me, the last thing I would ever want is to take advantage of you. But you, Chris Redfield, were persistent and I eventually caved in because..it's you, ever goof ball and good hearted you. You're being so kind to me. Patient and understanding. For a small while, there were moments when I actually laughed, an actual joyous laugh that made my stomach do flips. I never thought I was ever going to smile again. However, I always remember why I shouldn't. Do you know what I've done? He made me do horrible things. Albert Wesker ruined my life.

Memories flood into my mind, no matter how much I just want to block them, but they seep through. Faces forever melded in sheer horror and agony, screaming...they were all screaming at me. Cursing me for forcing their deaths down their throats. I wanted to stop myself, gain control over my body and tell them to run. But I couldn't, I've never felt so helpless in my life. My body moved while my mind and soul watched the evils I committed. And there is no going back from it. No redemption I can make for the damage I've done to the countless of innocent victims.

I don't even recognize myself in the mirror anymore. I dyed my hair brown as soon as possible, the platnium blonde hair was a constant reminder of what happened to me and what I've done. My once healthy skin turned pale and waxy, even my eye color lost it's once lustrous blue. But the most visible change about me wasn't just my hair color or skin, it was...well, me. Jill Valentine. Heh...I wonder how the me from before would think of me now. I used to be better then this, stronger and more confident. But Wesker stripped me of that along with my free will.

I don't know how you've put up with me, especially with my night terrors. I see how tired you are with the bags under your eyes and all because I'm being such a burden to you. I'm so tainted and unworthy of any ounce of your kindness for what I've done. I've thought about leaving more then once. Where? I don't know. But somewhere else where I can forget everything. Wesker, Kijuju, and my past. In the middle of the night, sleep being only a hopeful wish, I would have a firm decision to leave while you're asleep. I didn't like the thought of not saying goodbye to you and making it seem like I'm ungrateful for all that you've done for me...but I part of me wanted to cut all ties from from what happend. Yes, I'm so pathetic enough to want to run away from my ever growing guilt and leave you behind Chris.

But I don't move, I don't pack my bags, I don't even get off the floor I'm sitting on. I can't find myself to leave you. You are the only thing holding me together. While I'm in my nightmares, hands and faces haunting me with Wesker taunting me, you are the one to hold me and comfort me. Just your presence is enough to make me relax and it's the one thing I don't want to lose either. I can't keep relying on you though. I don't want to take advantage of you and become a burden. I would never be able to forgive myself if I was. I'm so selfish Chris. I'm waiting for you to tell me or confront me with my sins.

Doesn't it bother you? It must bother you to know that I worked along side Wesker with his plans. Chris why don't you say anything? I deserve it. I can see that there are moments while I'm lost in my guilt ridden thoughts that you want to say something about it. Say it Chris. Say what you and I know should be said.

"You're just as bad as Wesker."

YELL AT ME! SCREAM AT ME! CURSE ME! Do...something! For the love of god Chris, I have so much blood on my hands and how does it not upset you when you look at me! But I have other feelings conflicting within me and it doesn't want you to lose you. If I lost you...I don't know what I would do anymore. I hate feeling like this, but I can't help it have it creep into me. Chris, I think I might be losing my mind. My mind is full of guilt, memories, images of faces, and even Wesker is in there, just standing in the shadows of my mind with a knowing smirk of the state he's left me in.

Chris. You are the one that makes everything seem ok.

Even if only for a moment, you clear the storm of guilt that resounds within me.

Your voice can reach me through the other voices screaming at me.

You are the only thing making me feel sane or at least have me thinking I am.

Chris...I need you.

A/N:

-I hope you liked it. Might be a bit OOC, but I tried. Again, that link above will show you the picture that inspired this fanfic. Maybe seeing it would help convey the emotion I tried to write in this fic.

-I might write another RE fanfic/oneshot in the future with my favorite pairing, Claire & Wesker.

-I have to get ready for work. Bye!

Please review!