Only Through The Pain
AN - Once again, I got this done a lot quicker than I expected. The story will start picking up a bit from here, so I felt the extra-long chapter was necessary. It didn't feel right to split it in two. Anyway, chapter title is from a song by Plumb.
Kenshin13 - Hopefully this longer chapter will please you :). And I agree about Jill's past in the game. Though it has been hinted that there may be a seperate ways-type scenario for RE5 as DLC so hopefully they can do that and we get to play as Jill. It's sad to think that RE5 is probably the last game she will be in, especially given her small amount of screen time. She's a great character, she deserves another game of her own :). Thank you, especially for your comment about the flashback. I've never written Wesker before (at least I can't remember) so I was nervous that I'd get him wrong.
tek - Thank you :). You should write something! Your old fics are still amongst my favourites on here and it would be great to read something new. You know you'd have one loyal reader here :).
MrsMoshae - You didn't miss anything, I didn't mention the father. I was actually curious to see if anyone jumped to any conclusions. Anyway, rather than drag it out I mentioned the father in this chapter. Read on and you will find out who I prefer to pair Claire with :).
To these reviewers and also to C. Redfield 86, Kira131, Stardust4, MarnaLouw89, Sparkle Valentine, Devil Rebel, a HUGE thank you. I really can't tell you enough how much I appreciate you taking the time to review.
WARNING: This chapter contains strong language and scenes of a sexual nature.
Chapter Three - Damaged
"True love is a fairytale. I'm damaged, so how would I know?"
His body continued to feel the effects of the slumber he had awoken from only moments before. For once he was satisfied that he had experienced a good night's sleep. The sheets still clung to his naked form though they weren't needed as the temperature within the bedroom was almost unbearable, especially with his sleeping wife radiating body heat beside him. He took a moment to observe her still form, taking in the curves and muscles that had all been a blur the previous night. He did not fully understand her behaviour but she had been acting noticably strange over the past week and he had once again put it down to their sudden change of situation. Still, he found it hard to complain when she attacked him with such desperation, stripping him in a matter of seconds and throwing him down onto the bed. He barely had time to register what was going on when he realised that his hands had already removed most of her clothing and he was left with little else to do than finish the job and proceed to make love to her. Not that he was complaining.
Jill moved beside him, causing the sheets to ripple.
"Morning," Chris hummed, placing an arm around her waist and planting kisses up her neck. She brushed him off in irritation and slid off the end of the bed, pulling Chris's fallen T-shirt over her head before he knew what was going on, leaving him to sigh in frustration.
"It doesn't take much effort, you know," he called after her as she disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. He heard the faint click of the lock and sat upright, completely dumfounded.
She never locked the bathroom door, never. She never had any reason to. He contemplated hammering on the door and demanding some answers but he knew that it would only serve to annoy her further. She had been in such an edgy mood lately that he dared not provoke her.
The bed suddenly seemed less inviting, though the sheets remained warm where she had lain. Chris sighed and jumped out of bed. He just didn't understand her lately; her mood swings were beginning to grate on him. It had gotten to the point where he admittedly enjoyed spending more time at work, away from the house. He missed the old Jill, the one who would greet him with a smile and genuinely enjoy his company. Though she actively sought him out, lately her affection seemed to turn to annoyance and sometimes agression in a matter of minutes. Her behaviour became increasingly erratic and Chris simply didn't know how to deal with her most of the time.
"Thank God it's Wednesday," he muttered. He hoped that her altered temperament was due to nothing more than simple boredom, boredom that would be alleviated when she returned to work tomorrow.
'Until then, I have the day off and I have to look after her,' he thought, sighing inwardly. Despite the levels of insanity he felt she was driving him to, he had begun to worry about her. She wasn't eating as often as she perhaps should have been and he had awoken several times throughout the night to find her wide awake. She had also been noticeably on edge almost constantly and would jump if he so much as touched her without warning. As a result, their sex life had obviously suffered and this only served to wind both of them up further. He only hoped that the previous night was enough to satisfy both of them until her mood improved.
Even his sister seemed to be short with him lately, but he put that down to her hormones. He was still unsure how he felt about her recently-announced pregnancy but he acknowledged that she was a grown woman and what she did with her fiancé was her own business and no one else's. It pleased him that she had settled down and was happy for once in her life and he did like Leon, he just shuddered to think of how the poor child would turn out.
"Us Redfields are far from perfect," he thought aloud, "and God knows that Leon didn't emerge from the deep end of the gene pool."
He chuckled to himself, realising too late that there was nobody around to laugh with him.
The dull hiss of the shower suddenly snapped him back to reality and he pulled on his jeans, not bothering to find another shirt. His mind wandered behind the sealed bathroom door, imagining how Jill's slender body would look with the water cascading down-
He stopped himself with the knowledge that such thoughts would only get him worked up. Had it been any other day he would have jumped in with her but there was the small matter of the locked door and the fact that he didn't want to be on the receiving end of a viscious elbow-strike.
Taking a moment to cool down, he left the room and turned into the study, careful to close the door behind him. He had found himself spending increasing amounts of time in the study, simply gazing at his old trophies or doing paperwork he didn't need to bring home with him. His wandering mind took him to the bookshelf once more and he looked over his many awards and accolades, longing to be in the position to add just a few more to his collection. Most of them were from his time with S.T.A.R.S.; various marksman competitions Wesker had entered him into. He never thought much of rewards as he never expected to be recognised for the work he did; he just did it. It was the expression of pure disbelief on Forest's face that had made him enter everything Wesker or Barry, even Enrico, suggested to him. He didn't care that he was considered the best shot in the R.P.D., he simply enjoyed the numerous one-ups it gave him against his friend and rival. They never took it seriously and would joke about it over a few beers, Chris teasing Forest for his 'lack of skill' and Forest teasing Chris for being the team 'golden boy'.
Memories flashed before his eyes as he remembered what it was like to share an office with his old rival, to be able to drop whatever they were doing and head down to shoot targets together. He remembered the thrill of fighting alongside a man who possessed a talent rivalled only by his own and was once again filled with the same sense of nostalgia that seem to haunt his days as of late.
His attention turned away from the bookshelf and to an open folder on his desk. Swearing violently, he rushed to gather its contents up, hoping and praying that Jill hadn't laid eyes on them. The realisation dawned on him that she had no chance to have browsed through the mission briefing and relaxed, laughing at his stupidity. He collapsed into the chair behind the desk and took a moment to flick through the file, regarding the photographs with great interest.
'What harm would it do?' he asked himself as he fingered the edges of the report sheet. 'It's only in Mexico, I could be in and out before she knew I was gone.'
He heard his own thoughts as they echoed in his head and froze for a moment, realising the gravity of what he was considering.
'I can't lie to her,' he told himself. 'It's Jill; I could never lie to her, not about something this big.'
Still, he found himself running out of arguments against dusting off his guns and heading into battle. He had already ignored three briefings that had found their way into his hands and each one had looked as inviting as the last. He continued to tell himself that he didn't want to lie to Jill, that he didn't want her to know that he was feeling trapped in his current predicament. Yet he found a niggling voice in the back of his head kept asking 'why?'. They had given up the fight for a normal life, yet their life was far from normal. She was acting quite selfish lately and his work was all that was keeping him distracted enough to remain civil with her. Right?
'Work's not the damn problem,' he thought. 'If I want to do this, I should do it...she can't control me.'
The bathroom was filled with an almost unbearable heat, though Jill still shivered as she exited the shower and dried herself off with a soft white towel. She took a moment to once again appreciate the fact that she was actually washing herself before she pulled her robe from the back of the door and slipped silently into it. She didn't bother with underwear and simply left Chris's T-shirt in a crumpled pile on the floor.
Images from the previous night surfaced and she pulled her robe tighter around her shoulders, lowering herself onto the lidded toilet so that she did not have to worry about balance. The feel of Chris's hands as they glided over her soft, supple skin still lingered, his phantom touch seeming almost real. She closed her eyes shamefully, wishing that she could enjoy the sensation. Just like the previous night she found it hard to appreciate his love. She had felt suffocated, claustrophobic in a way she had never felt before. One moment she was enjoying the exquisite sensation of him inside of her, the next she was wishing that it would just hurry up and be over. Her mind had been snapping between two extremes a lot lately but she never thought that it would affect anything relating to her marriage.
She could not cry as she recalled the jealousy she felt upon witnessing his pleasure and wishing that she could share in it. She did not think she had any tears left to shed. Her life had always been unstable, hell, she had no permanent home for several years. Yet since she joined S.T.A.R.S. at the age of twenty-one, Chris had been the one constant in her life. When she was ill she could rely on him being there, nursing her through the pain, and when she was injured she could always rely on him being there, scolding her for putting herself in the position to receive the injury. His touch had always banished her fears and his voice, gently whispered in her ear, had always soothed even the most persistant of aches. Now, she felt nothing.
Even she had begun to acknowledge the danger of her thoughts as her mind drifted back to the many times she had faced almost certain death yet still managed to pull through. It was not the images that scared her, it was the fact that her response was always 'Why? Why did I survive?'.
A sharp rap on the door caused her to jump a little before she moved towards it and pulled the bolt, grateful that her inner anguish had not resulted in tears.
"For you," Chris commented, smiling as he handed her the house phone. She did not reply as she took it from him and exited into their shared bedroom. Chris took the safer option of leaving the room as she spoke into the receiver.
"Jill Redfield?" an unfamiliar voice asked. She impatiently confirmed her name.
"This is Holly Parker from the BSAA medical divison," the voice informed her. "I believe you underwent a medical with us a couple of weeks ago?"
"Yes," Jill breathed with a sigh of relief. "Thank God, I thought you were never going to get back to me."
There was an extended silence on the other end of the line before Holly continued with trepidation.
"I'm afraid there's been a bit of a...well there's been a problem on our end," she spoke.
"A problem? What kind of problem?" Jill tried her best to maintain a normal tone, but her voice had already begun to shake. A problem? That was all she needed right now.
"I'm afraid that there has been a mix-up with results. We're going to have to ask you to come in so we can run some tests again."
Jill remained perfectly still with the phone clamped tightly to her ear. She tried to reply but all that came out of her mouth was air.
"Mrs. Redfield?"
"Yeah, I'm still here," she answered when she found her voice. "This...this mix-up; I can still come in to work tomorrow, right?"
Holly breathed deeply and Jill's heart sank, knowing the answer before it was spoken.
"I'm afraid that we can't allow that just yet," she explained. "Due to the nature of the organisation it is policy for all members of staff to undergo a medical before they are allowed to begin work for us, especially those involved with training such as yourself."
"But...but I'm healthy!" Jill cried as desperation took over. "I underwent an extensive series of tests just over a year ago!"
She did not notice her husband appear in the doorway, observing her with concern.
"Mrs. Redfield, I'm sorry," Holly apologised, sounding frustrated but not in the least apologetic. "It's policy, I have no control over what they say. No officer will clear you for your training duties until they have results of your medical and HQ won't allow you to work in their building until they have the same results. Given your medical history they will have extra cause for concern."
Jill's blood boiled, her fingers gripping the phone so tightly it was almost painful. Sensing her sudden change in character, Chris began to move towards her.
"My medical history?" she repeated. It became apparant to Holly almost immediately that perhaps she should not have said that.
"I was infected with the T-virus eleven years ago!" she screamed, throwing off Chris's arm as he attempted to place it round her shoulders. "It was confirmed by BSAA medical officers that not only is my system virus-free but also that I'm immune to three major strains of viral technology. If anything, I'm the safest fucking person you could have in the building!"
"Mrs. Redfield, I did not mean-"
"No, you just didn't fucking think!" she yelled. "I suppose now you're going to say I'm not fit to work because I was tortured for two fucking years! I broke my arm when I was seven, are you going to use that against me now?"
Jill never heard Holly's answer, nor did she find out if she answered at all because at that moment Chris plucked the phone from her grasp and muttered a hasty apology to the nurse before hanging up. He then braced himself for the torrent of abuse he expected, but Jill had barely even noticed his act.
"I can't believe this," she muttered, her mind apparantly not with the here and now. "I can't believe this. What the hell am I supposed to do now?"
Chris risked placing a hand on her shoulder and when she did not bat it away he moved to push her gently into a seated position on the bed and knelt before her.
"They lost my results," she explained before he had the chance to ask. "I can't return to work until they redo it all...I can't- Chris, what the hell am I supposed to do until then?"
He frowned at her pessimism, looking up at her now tear-stained face.
"Jill, this isn't the end of the world," he laughed, hoping that it would ease her down a little. "I'll call them back up, make an appointment for tomorrow and you should have the results in a couple of weeks."
She glared at him through damp hair, a sign that he just didn't get what she was trying to put across.
"Can't you tell I'm bored out of my mind?" she sobbed. "There's nothing to do around here, everyone else is working and daytime television actually does suck as much as they say it does. I can't spend another two weeks like this, I just can't."
He was puzzled by her intense reaction to news that would hardly have fazed anyone else but he realised that she was upset and moved to sit beside her so that he was in a better position to hold and comfort her. She fell into him without a fight, her body limp in his arms.
"Are you alright?" he asked, genuinely worried about her. "It's not like you to get so upset over something like this."
"Is it not?" she asked curiously. "I-I'm sorry."
She moved to pull away from him but he refused to relinquish his hold on her, fear suddenly seizing him.
"Jill, talk to me," he begged as he tilted her face upwards with his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes seemed glazed, whatever lingered behind them hidden carefully and fearfully.
"If something's bothering you, tell me...please."
This time she successfully pulled away from him, looking away before turning back to him curiously. She could see the fear in his expression and it tugged on her heartstrings. Many times she had considered opening up to him, telling him of the emptiness of her world and how numb and helpless she felt. She had never spoken up before because he had always been too busy, but now... She saw the fear in his eyes as he realised that she was not herself and she knew that she could never tell him of her true feelings, lest they inflict the same level of pain and anguish upon him. She did not wish for anyone to feel the way she did, least of all the man she loved with all her heart.
'With all my heart...I wish I knew what that meant.'
She knew that she loved him but the concept of love felt so strange to her now, so alien.
No reply seemed meaningful enough to either satisfy his curiosity or to throw him off the scent so chose to satisfy her own sense of curiosity and kiss him.
He did not resist or protest, he gratefully allowed her to sink into him once more, her trembling hands tugging at his clean T-shirt. His hands were steadier than hers and moved smoothly beneath her robe, a surprised gasp escaping him when he realised that she wore nothing beneath it. A deep curiosity fuelled her as she pushed him back onto the bed, kissing him deeply and passionately. The tables were quickly turned and she found herself on her back, fumbling with his jeans as a warm, dry hand slid up the inside of her thigh. She caught on to his intentions and pushed his hand away, not wanting any benefits this time. He smiled mischeviously in response and allowed her to straddle him as he kicked his jeans off, his boxers following suit.
"I love you," he reminded her, his large hands resting gently on her hips. A kiss cancelled out the need for a verbal reply. Once again he took the opportunity to reverse their situation and rolled her over, his heavy frame pinning her comfortably to the bed. She could feel his erection against her leg, her mind drawn to that one spot but the accompanying thoughts not pleasing her. She did not shiver in anticipation, she didn't wordlessly beg him to speed things up...in fact, she couldn't care less what happened next.
Small kisses were placed down her neck as he moved down. His lips smoothed over the damaged skin on her chest, noting how it had healed considerably in the past year. he did not allow his thoughts to dwell on this too long, too caught up in the fervent heat of the moment to ruin it. She groaned beneath him, the sound almost feral. A hand moved up the side of his face, fingers sliding in to his thick hair. He certainly didn't expect them to bend, to pull his head away as she moved from beneath him, quickly covering herself with her robe.
He looked up at her questioningly and all she could do was babble in response.
"I-I can't," she sighed, sounding as frustrated as he felt. Several curses entered her thoughts, her body craving the pleasure that her mind was denying her.
Rather than showing his annoyance at her, as he felt he should, he moved beside her and pulled her close. She allowed herself to become lost in the heat of his body, finding it strange how she derived more pleasure from a simple embrace than she did from sex.
"Do you need to finish off?" she asked, knowing how worked up she must have gotten him.
"I don't think I need to," he sighed, looking down. The disappointment and his worry had completely killed the moment.
"I'm sorry," she told him. "I think I'm still worn out from last night." It was a blatant lie and he saw through it but the answer he saw instead was not what she had in mind.
"Yeah," was all he could mutter, suddenly annoyed by the thought that he couldn't even turn his own wife on. He recalled the previous night once more, remembering how unresponsive and cold she had been. What had he done? It seemed convenient somehow that his mind drifted back to his work, remembering how confident he had felt when he actually used his body in the way it had been trained for. Now he was failing to use it to please the woman he never wanted to disappoint...
He sat up, the thought becoming too humiliating to bear.
"I better get dressed," he announced. "I have to go to work."
"What?" Jill half-shouted. "It's your day off!"
"Yeah, I promised I'd help DeLaney with something, though," he lied. Truth was, he just needed to get away for a few hours.
He moved away before Jill could protest further, leaving her alone to her confused thoughts.
"Wasn't today his day off?" Anna asked. She quietly sipped from the cup of coffee that Jill had made for her, too polite to say that she had asked for tea.
Anna King was the Redfield's immediate neighbour, her husband Travis already having become good friends with Chris. The boys had bonded over their military background, Chris's with the Air Force and Travis's with the Marines. On the other hand, Anna and Jill found themselves to have a lot in common with each other, from being raised by their fathers to things as trivial as their shared love of retail therapy.
"Yeah, that's what he said," Jill replied, failing to hide her annoyance.
"Oh?" Anna's interest was evident in every move she made, she even set down her coffee to give her full attention to her neighbour. If there was one thing that Anna loved, it was gossip. It was thanks to Anna that Jill knew the goings-on of most of the nieghbourhood women. Though Anna had admitted that Jill was the only woman in the neighbourhood who was 'one-hundred percent real' and would not divulge anything Jill confided in her without her expressed consent. Still, she did love to hear gossip even if it did prove useless to her.
"I don't know," Jill sighed. "It's more me than him. I mean, we've barely been married two months but it feels as though the spark is fading already."
"What did he do?" Anna asked bluntly. Jill reacted in surprise, asking her to repeat what she had said.
"Well, let's be honest, Chris is gorgeous," she explained. "There's no way you could have lost interest in him already so I'm assuming he has done something."
Jill sighed. If only it were that simple.
"Well, he has been pouring himself into his work lately," she admitted. "And when he is home I don't feel like he's all there, if you get what I mean. It's like his mind is somewhere else."
Anna thought for a moment, but came up with nothing, no advice she could offer the other woman.
"Have you tried talking to him?" she asked.
"I can't," Jill replied. "I just can't, I- He wouldn't listen, he wouldn't care. I can't talk to him anymore."
Anna observed Jill carefully, noticing her nervous fidgeting and her short, shallow breaths.
"In that case, are you sure it's him who has the problem?"
"I never said that either of us was the problem," Jill reminded her, slightly offended at the suggestion.
"Maybe I should have phrased it differently," Anna apologised. "Is there something that's bothering you, something you haven't discussed with him?"
Jill's breaths deepened as she realised how dead on her assumption was. She had no desire to discuss her feelings with a woman she barely knew but she felt as though she should give her the benefit of the doubt.
"Sort of," she answered, downplaying her feelings. "Two years ago I was rescued from captivity. In total, I was in enemy hands for two years."
"Africa," Anna whispered as she acknowledged the event she spoke of. Jill faltered a little, surprised that she knew so much.
"I remember reading about it after your rescue," she explained. "I...recognised you from somewhere the first time we met and Travis suggested that it was you. I didn't want to say anything incase you didn't want to talk about it. For what it's worth, I never told anyone else, either, and neither did Travis. He spent time as a hostage himself and...well, he didn't like to talk about it. I'm sorry about what happened to you."
Jill smiled politely and chose not to respond directly to her statement.
"The man who kidnapped me, he was...evil," she whispered, continuing with her story. "He used me to carry out his work, forced me to do things, horrible things. Lately, they have been all I can think about. Chris would...he would never understand. If he knew, he would hate me."
"I'm sure that's not true," Anna protested. "If he loves you he will at least try to understand."
"You don't know what this man put us through, both of us. He murdered our friends, betrayed us. I'm begining to wonder if I remind Chris of him, of all that we fought to destroy. Maybe that is why he is so distant?"
"I can't listen to this," Anna coughed as she drained the last of her coffee. "You're talking stupid now. Jill, I've seen the way he looks at you; he adores you. I see no hatred in his expression, no blame, only love. Question is, do you love him?"
"What?" Jill shouted, not hiding her offence. "Of course I do! He's everything to me!"
"Then what's the problem?"
Jill thought for a moment, Anna's words weighing heavy on her heart and conscience. She had a point. If they loved each other, there was no problem. At least there shouldn't be.
"Stop trying to find a problem and just enjoy the time you have together," Anna advised. "And for God's sake, stop blaming yourself. You should also consider talking to him, telling him how you feel, how he is making you feel. You don't want your memories to resurface, not like this."
Jill neglected to mention that it was too late for that, but she took in her friendly advice and set her mind to work. The sudden need to apologise to her husband arose and she began to think of some way to make it up to him, to set up a situation where she could talk to him, to be honest for the first time in much too long.
She breathed deeply, the news of the impending resolution of her problems so refreshing to her. The relief sank in deep, soothing her troubled mind and allowing her enough freedom to begin to plan a meal. The solution seemed perfect; it would afford her the perfect opportunity to talk to him when there was nothing else to distract him. Perhaps if she was lucky they could continue where they left off earlier...
"I have four hours," she realised. The second hand on her watch suddenly seemed to tick that little bit faster and she was overcome with a sudden sense of urgency.
"I need...I need to get ready," she panicked. Anna laughed at her.
"I'll get out of your hair," she giggled. "Good luck, and let me know how it goes."
Chris's heavy boots thudded against the carpet, beating his frustration into the weave. He knew that it was too much to ask for a few hours of peace. No sooner had he walked through the doors, three of his colleagues had descended on him, arms full of paperwork they were simply desperate to shift. Being the generous worker that he was, he agreed to file it all away and gave up all hope of being home within a couple of hours.
He felt a little guilty for leaving Jill behind, more so for the things they had left unsaid. His thoughts at the time had seemed rational, but looking back he knew that he could have handled the situation differently. Perhaps she genuinely was worn out and that his finding another reason behind her eyes had been little more than paranoia. He concluded that he would apologise, just as soon as he could get away from the records that needed filing and the files that needed signing.
"Hey, Redfield!"
He let out an annoyed grunt, begging all that was holy that Greg simply wished to say goodbye.
"Whatever it is, don't ask," he told him before he was able to speak. "I'm off home now, like I should have been an hour ago."
Greg raised an eyebrow in disbelief, daring Chris to give him a reason why going home was better than what he had to offer.
"Did you take a look at the file?" he asked, pushing an issue he should have left well alone.
"Yeah, I did," Chris lamented. "I'm sorry, Greg, I just can't do it."
To his surprise Greg merely waved a hand nonchalantly and gave out a small "meh".
"There'll be plently more," he consoled, failing to pick up on the tension that seemed to be radiating from his colleague. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something a little closer to home; a favour, if you will."
"I'm listening," Chris muttered, though this was only half-true.
"I was meant to take a group of recruits through the basics this afternoon but I had to delay," he explained. "Well, I've delayed long enough but now it looks like I can't do it. One of the kids came home with a black eye, Jane's in a panic...it's a mess, I've got to get off and sort it out. Trouble is, I need their times by tomorrow morning. you couldn't do a quick run with them before you head off, could you?"
"Training?" Chris echoed, the thought sounding more appealling to him than he thought it would. "But I don't start on the training circuit 'til next week."
"Wouldn't hurt to have a head start, would it?"
"True. Wait, no. No, I can't, I've got to get back to Jill, today was supposed to be my day off."
Greg stared intently at his comrade, his aged features contorted into a pleading expression. Chris sighed as he realised that he just couldn't say no to him. It was like Greg had said, he had a good heart and could not refuse a friend in need.
"What do I have to do?" he sighed, resigning himself to another late night. Greg clapped his hands together before placing an arm around him and guiding him down the hall.
"There's only three of them," he explained, keeping his voice low. "I need lap times on both land and water, full gear, and I need weapons detail. It's simple enough, I just need to know which level to put them in for when they get sent to the big guys."
"Track and pool?" Chris complained. The idea suddenly seemed less inviting. "Greg, that's gonna take ages."
"Just do track first, then pool, so they won't have to change their gear. If you get tired, try and hook someone else. Weapons doesn't matter so much, I can get Hutchinson to put them through that in the morning, but I need those times."
The timing worried Chris and his mind drifted back to Jill, who was no doubt bored out of her mind and growing more irritated by the second. But his head and his heart were telling him to help out Greg. Family was important and he knew that Greg would have done the same had he been in that situation. It was a simple time collection, how long could it take?
When Greg jogged off towards the main desk, Chris made his way to the changing rooms, ready to collect his new recruits. His feelings were still unclear on the situation with Jill, his head and his heart both seeming to have different opinions on the matter. No matter how much he tried to quiet them both, his head felt ready to explode. He found it so much easier to just ignore the situation and deal with it should a problem arise. His head told him that this was a bad idea but at that point he quite frankly didn't give a shit. He was too stressed out, too worked up to deal with anything that did not pose an immediate problem.
As he lowered himself onto a pristine wooden bench, he pulled his cell out of his pocket and began to dial.
The dining room almost gleamed from the thorough cleaning she had subjected it to. It was spotless, not a particle of dirt visible, not even a single napkin out of place. She had tried her best to dress up their boring dining table by throwing a table cloth over it and even placing a few candle holders on its surface and she had to admit, it looked fantastic. The sweet aroma of her homemade pasta sauce drifted through from the kitchen and she dashed inside, turning down the heat so that it would gently simmer until Chris arrived. Her meal of choice had been simple; fresh tagliatelle with a homemade pasta sauce and bread made fresh in her kitchen using the breadmaker her aunt had bought them as a wedding gift. She had never used it before and had honestly never thought she would, but she had time and thought it would be nice to try something new. All in all, she felt that she had made something quite special and was almost giddy with anticipation.
The food now under control, she stood before the mirror in the living room, pulling at her hair and generally fussing over her appearance. She had picked out her favourite top for the occasion and had carefully applied a small amount of make up. If she was making an effort with the food, she figured that she should also make an effort with her appearance. The black camisole that she had picked out displayed her cleavage tastefully and for once she did not mind the scars that caught the light every time she moved.
A steady finger ran along the surface of the most prominent scar; a small, circular shape above her left breast. They were almost healed enough to undergo laser removal surgery and she was desperate for the time to come when she would finally be rid of them. Her body bore many scars, most of them small and unnoticable, and many of those scars had been obtained in the line of duty. She was proud of them, proud of the reminders of the many lives she had saved and the many dangers she had escaped from unscathed. Her experiences had, for the most part, shaped who she was and she did not want to turn her back on these memories for the sake of flawless skin. Of course, her skin was pretty damn flawless anyway, the scars that she thought of fondly reduced to little more than blemishes thanks to her period in Excella's cryogenic tube. The scars she could not bring herself to come to terms with, however, were those on her chest. Chris had commented many times on how they were barely noticable, how nobody would seem them unless they knew what to look for, but she knew that they were there and that bugged her. She was not proud of what she had been forced to do prior to obtaining those scars and she was desperate to rid herself of the constant reminder that stared her in the face every time she looked into the mirror.
She smiled to herself as thoughts of her husband drifted to the forefront of her mind. She felt lucky to be with a man who didn't care how she looked, who had brushed off her change of hair colour and new scars as though they were nothing. With Chris she knew it was the real deal.
The house phone chirped to life, startling her slightly. Ignoring her own stupidity, she answered it in the cheeriest voice she could manage.
"Hey babe," Chris sighed, causing a welcome shiver to pass through Jill's body.
"Hey yourself," she purred in response. "Look, I'm really sorry about earlier."
"Ah, don't be," he told her. "It happens, you know."
'Not to us,' she thought, shaking off the idea before it turned dangerous.
"Yeah. Will you be long? I really wanted to talk to you."
She heard him sigh again and perched herself on the arm of the sofa, playing nervously with her hair. She scolded herself for feeling so nervous, reminding herself that he was her husband and not some high school crush. Still, she had worked herself into a tizzy over the past four hours, and it had taken her the best part of three to work out how she would approach the matter. In the end she thought it best to come straight out with the truth and finish with an apology.
"That's actually why I rang," he spoke, stretching his words out.
"Is something wrong?"
"What? No, no, I just...Greg needed a favour and, well...I'm not gonna be home 'til late."
Jill exhaled slowly, counting to ten in her head, just like Anna had told her to.
"How late?" she asked innocently.
"I don't know," he replied truthfully. His voice indicated that he was not too happy about the idea but she failed to pick up his frustration, too caught up in her own thoughts to notice. "I wouldn't wait up. Greg wants me to chase some rookies round the track, I don't know how long it will take."
Her voice caught in her throat as she raised a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, silently begging her tears to hold off until their conversation was over.
"Jill?"
"I'm here," she gasped. "Just hurry up, get home as fast as you can."
'Before I talk myself out of this.'
"I will," he promised. "If I get off early I'll give you a call, okay? If you haven't eaten I could bring back some take out."
"Sure," she told him, his meaningless words meaning less than nothing at that moment. "Whatever. Later."
She hung up before he could say goodbye and placed the phone gently onto the back of the sofa. The tears that she had felt moments ago had seemingly evaporated, the same numb feeling that had taken her hours and a hell of a lot of hope to chase away returning, sealing every emotional break that had occured in that short space of time. A still silence descended upon the house, her footsteps barely breaking the calm as she trudged towards the kitchen.
The power light on the oven flickered off as she turned off the heat, grasping the pan with a single trembling hand. In one swift, fluid motion she poured her pasta sauce into the bin, watching it fall ominously before it spattered against the sides. The tagliatelle followed and she pushed the bread to the back of the bench, not even bothering to cut it.
The table begged for her attention, the cutlery that had been carefully laid out catching the light from above. She remained silent, barely even drawing a breath as her fingers slid over the cool metal.
"Don't make me feed you myself."
"Fuck you," she spat, the venom in her voice barely conveying the hatred that she felt within. Her body ached from the many bones that had recently healed, the effects of the medication she had been given slowly wearing off. It never occured to her to ask for more, in fact she welcomed the pain. It was all that reminded her that she was still alive.
"I will force feed you, Valentine, believe me when I say that," Wesker spoke. His voice was as calm as it had always been and this irritated the life out of her. She could tell that he was beyond the capability to feel human emotions now. Either that or he no longer knew what they meant. Over the past few months he had cared for her in a manner that would have been touching had the circumstances been any different, but even the kindest of actions dripped with a malevolent evil. The sheer fact that he had kept her alive this long, had saved her from almost certain death, frightened her more than the fall that had brought her there. He was up to no good and she knew it. He hated her and it was this knowledge that worried her more than anything; if he went out of his way to keep one of his sworn enemies alive when he could have simply let her rot on the rocks below the Spencer Estate or drift hopelessly out to sea, then it meant that his plans were important...and Albert Wesker rarely placed much importance on anything even when he was human.
"Why are you keeping me here?" she asked.
Wesker smiled reassuringly, a gesture so sweet it sickened her to the bone.
"Jill, Jill, Jill," he sighed as he raised a hand to brush her cheek. Her skin seemed to crawl, a knot forming in her chest as she painfully struggled to move out of his reach. "You always were one of my favourites. It seemed such a waste for you to die from something as simple as a fall. I rescued you, perhaps you should show me a little more gratitude."
He laughed at her pitiful struggle, moving the backs of his fingers down her cheek and onto her neck, purely for the purpose of winding her up. Her appetite almost completely depleted by this point, she jerked vilently against her restraints, forcing a doctor to rush through the door and tighten the binding around her chest. Further immobilised, she found it impossible to move away from her captor.
"What are you going to do to me?" she begged, the fear in her voice eliciting a laugh from Wesker.
"Oh, don't worry, Valentine," he sighed as his fingers wound around a lock of dark brown hair, following it down to the tip. The backs of his gloved fingers brushed against the top her her left breast, sending a fresh wave of fear through her body.
"I have no interest in using you in the ways you are no doubt fearing," he assured her, a small comfort that meant almost nothing to her. The fingers disappeared, leaving her shaking form strapped to the bed in an uncomfortable manner. "I'm not that kind of monster and, beautiful as you are, you're not my type. No, I have a far greater use for you. You never failed to impress me with your strength, you agility, your resiliance. Even your beauty is flawless, a perfect specimen of woman if I were asked to label you. Your genetics are no doubt superior to the common muck that is sent my way almost daily. You will be a perfect test subject for my new little project."
"P-project?" she stammered, a different kind of fear seizing her. She had seen the results of Umbrella's experimentation on humans and it wasn't exactly pretty. Images of her mutated body tearing through the lab suddenly flickered before her and the colour drained from her face.
"If you do prove worthy, which I am sure you will, you will be just like me," he continued. The happiness in his voice confused Jill and she was unsure if he was happy at the thought of her becoming what she would define as a tyrant or if he was simply in love with the sound of his own voice. Knowing Wesker, she did not doubt that both of these scenarios were true.
"No," she pleaded. "You have me, now just kill me. Isn't that what you want?"
"It was. Now you have given me a whole new world of possibilities."
"You self-righteous bastard, you don't know what you're fucking with," she snarled. "They'll come looking for me, they'll find me and they'll rip you apart."
His smile broadened, much to her surprise and he reached behind him to pull something off the shelf. Leaning over to unbuckle her chest restraint, he unfolded the newspaper and glanced at the front page in satisfaction.
"Haven't you heard?" he asked as he placed the broadsheet infront of her. "You're dead."
She leaned forward, an act made possible due to the absence of her chest restraint, and noticed that her picture was displayed prominently on the front page of the Harvardville News.
BSAA 'Original Eleven' Agent Perishes In Tragic Accident
Bile rose in her throat as she turned the page and continued to read, scanning the article for the most important details.
'Decorated agent Jill Valentine sacrifices her life to save partner.'
'Seeing the danger her partner was in, she chose to make the ultimate sacrifice and tackled their enemy out of a nearby window.'
'After three months of searching, Valentine's body was not recovered and the BSAA were faced with no choice but to announce her passing.'
'It is believed that the bodies of both Valentine and terrorist leader Albert Wesker were carried out to sea by strong tides.'
'Agent Christopher Redfield is currently on personal leave from his duties as he mourns the passing of his partner of ten years.'
'The BSAA have announced plans to award Valentine a post-humous medal of valour reserved for only the bravest of soldiers.'
"This...this is impossible," she cried.
Her eyes flitted over the photographs attached to the article, landing on one in particular. It appeared to be from some sort of memorial service; both Chris and Leon Kennedy were in clear view, a solemn look on both men's faces. Her heart sank as she gazed at Chris, picking up on the sorrow in his expression. She wanted nothing more that to reach into the photograph, to tell him that she was alive and well, to just hold him and make his pain go away.
Teardrops fell onto the newspaper, sobs of pure despair shaking her entire body. Wesker pulled the newspaper away and tossed it onto a nearby table.
"Nobody is coming for you, Jill," he translated. "Nobody even knows you're alive. They're not going to help you this time."
"Chris," she sobbed, refusing to believe his words. "Chris would never leave me behind, he would never- He would never..."
"He loved you," Wesker laughed. "Yet he put himself in a compromising position, one which you chose to rectify by tackling me out of a window. He watched you fall, with your arms around me, he watched you hit the surf, heard the waves as they carried your body onto the rocks. I kept an eye on him for a while and I have to hand it to him, he searched so damn hard. He barely slept for weeks. His pain was...exquisite. It was far more satisfying that killing him would have proven. I thought he may have become a thorn in my side, I thought his anger would drive him towards me. I never expected him to react the way he did; all those nights he would sit patiently on the boat, clutching your fallen hat. It was pitiful. It still amazes me the depths to which humans will sink when their lives are torn asunder."
Jill sobbed violently, images of Chris's suffering seeming to flash through her mind like a violent storm. The pain she had felt when her body had been broken did not compare to that which seized her at that moment. She wanted to scream "Liar!" but she could not manage to choke out a sound.
"He isn't coming for you," Wesker told her flatly. "Nobody is. Chris can't help you this time."
He pushed her lightly back, careful not to aggravate any internal wounds that may have still been healing.
"Now eat your damn food."
Jill's body began to shake violently, breathing almost impossible at that moment. She clenched her hands into a fist, the tablecloth the only barrier between her nails and her skin.
Wesker had been right all along; nobody was going to help her. Chris couldn't help her and she had been foolish to entertain the idea that he would.
"I hate you," she growled through clenched teeth, the image of her former captor still fresh in her mind. "I hate what you made me, I hate how you used me, I hate how you hurt him, how you're still tormenting me when you're burning in hell...I despise you."
In a flash she tugged at the tablecloth, sending the decorations across the table, some flying through the air, others falling back to the table with a clatter. Furiously, she grabbed the candleholders and flung them against the wall, watching glass rain down on the scene as the painting she had hung above the table exploded from the impact. Cutlery whizzed past her, wood splintering when she caught a solitary chair and sent it speeding towards the kitchen.
Adrenaline pumped through her veins with a delightful fury. It fuelled her rage, powered the gut-wrenching scream that she let forth. When she had the energy to scream no more she collapsed in a crumpled heap on the floor, ignoring the pain that throbbed violently in her temples.
The sobs that were torn from her shook her entire body, their intensity bringing aches and pains to her back. She did not spare another throught for the destruction around her and thought only of the dismal emptiness that filled her.
'Why can't I feel anything?'
It was all she could do keep more painful memories at bay, but the thoughts that haunted the empty recesses of her mind provided little consolation. Once again her mind drifted back to her husband, guilt consuming her as she considered the pain that had been evident in that one blurry photograph. Flickers of their earlier altercation joined these images and she realised how distant their relationship had grown in the small space of a few weeks. It pained her to realise that the one constant in her life was slowly slipping away and that she had no control over it. She loved Chris, deeply and desperately, and the thought of losing him promised an agony even she could not imagine.
The road she found herself staring down was dark and dismal and for the first time she realised that she was truly walking it alone.
AN - Please review :).