AN - Major apologies for the wait, but you actually wouldn't believe it if I said how eventful life has been lately. I am still not confident with this, but I thought I would update with what I had and see how many people are still reading/are still interested and just go from there. I am also hoping to get my Revelations oneshot up sometime (a oneshot over a year in the making!) despite the fact that I seem to have lost a bit of what I had written.
Anyway, here is the latest chapter of Host, and I hope you enjoy it! As always thank you for your support, and to those who continue to read!
Host
Chapter Six - Flight
May 5, 2009. St. Anne's Hospital.
He came to her again in the early hours of the afternoon, and he looked like hell. Perhaps hours out of hospital, definitely breaking rules she knew the BSAA would have placed upon him.
Jill did not know what to think. Her head was still a mess, each thought flitting into the spotlight and then dancing away before she could decipher its strange tongue. They never spoke to her in English any more, not even in any discernible language. Perhaps they had nothing to say at all and were merely singing her lack of sanity.
But still, she saw Sheva, saw the momentary guilt within his eyes. He had replaced her, had found a new partner, had-
'There's that paranoia again.' This voice was becoming the most annoying; the one that would make a sliver of sense amidst the chaos. It hurt to pay attention to it, to agree with it and try to do something about...well, anything.
"You really shouldn't be here," she said.
A light chuckle escaped him.
"You should know me better than that by now."
And she did. The voice told her so.
"If you're here to say you're sorry, forget it," she told him, a little more bitter than she had intended. "It makes no difference to me." A tune changed.
"But it does to me."
Chris sighed and moved closer. Perhaps it was his proximity that made her close her book, made her pay attention. It hurt that he was so close and yet she knew not what to do. Did she sit up? Did she move closer? Did she laugh like they used to together? There were so many things she wanted to feel, but her heart was decidedly numb today, her brain even more so.
"I-"
"Apologies are all you ever say to me these days," she interrupted. "And they are always followed by something that requires more. I just...I don't have the energy for that, not anymore. Just say your piece and..."
And what? Be gone? Leave her alone, to rot in this place?
"I can't do this any more," she whispered. It was that voice again, bringing with it a headache she feared would induce another psychotic episode. She had been good for a while, could not afford a relapse.
He seemed to shrug off her words, moved towards her as she rose to her feet next to her bed. Every movement seemed robotic, every sense dulled. She could barely feel the carpet against her bare feet.
"I don't need you to believe me," he said. His words were heavy, though she could not decipher the weight upon them. "I believe you, and that's all that matters now."
Feet seemed frozen to the spot as he drew closer, reaching into his pocket for something. It was an envelope, plain and white, and a little crumpled. A steady hand reached out the moment he offered it, eyes attempting to bore through the paper.
"If you won't let me say it, maybe..." There was something forced in his voice this time. He never was any good at lying.
Curiosity brought her hands to take it from him, the familiarity of the sharpness of his handwriting stinging her for a brief moment. It was a horribly familiar thing. Something she needed to let go of, needed to-
A rush of air brought her into his arms; she was unsure who had moved, only that suddenly they were together, and it felt good. Damn good.
"If you trust me..." he whispered, breath warm in her ear as a hand slid into hair she wished she had washed sooner - it was funny the places her mind drifted to these days. "I'll be there for you."
Something hard pressed against her scalp, beneath the gentle pressure of his fingertips. Instinct called her hand to move, but she stopped it. A wry smile was offered before he left, leaving her stunned in place with barely a breath upon her lips.
It was then that her fingers moved, pulling a long yellow clip from her hair; a thin pin, a little longer than she would use on-
Hastily, she ripped open the letter in her hands, dropping to sit on the edge of her bed as shreds of the envelope fell around her. Words of forgiveness darted before her eyes, but they felt empty and hollow. They made no sense, not to her. Their formation was good, save for a grammatical error or two, but they weren't words that she was used to reading from Chris.
Until she scanned that which the naked eye would never see. Letters suddenly leapt from the page; an old code they would use in the days of their dodging the spies of Umbrella, and in their days as partners within the BSAA - a code only the two of them knew.
'Morning to,' it read. 'East. Help. You want.'
Even the message did not make sense in a classical way, but it was always how they would code messages. Nonsensical when they were always so prudent with grammar. Something no-one would think twice about.
And his words lingered, a suggestion seeping through the fog, easing into an abandoned avenue of her mind.
"If you trust me..."
May 5, 2009. D.S.O. HQ [Location Classified]
Hunnigan handed him the nondescript envelope in passing, barely smiling at him. He knew what it was before opening, but still waited until he was back in his office before delving into it.
'I hope this is good news'.
Her handwriting was neat as always, and Leon smiled as he cast the note aside.
Dr. Anna Hendricks, PhD.
Breath caught in his throat. The answer he had been seeking; but did he truly want to know? Some part of him had grown fond of Jill's doctor, but there was something about her that his senses did not trust. And they had yet to fail him.
Carefully tearing the paper, a few moments passed after he scanned the contents before dismay settled in. Hendrick's qualifications all checked out, and there was not a single fabrication regarding her employment. The criminal record check came back clean, links to various charities had proven valid; even the stakeout on her house had raised no questions nor cause for suspicion.
'Spidey sense failing you?' It was Claire's voice that asked this question, and he flung the papers to his desk in mild frustration.
The phone calls... Even her phone records showed nothing out of the ordinary. Of course, that particular phone could have been unregistered, but...
'Jill likes her,' he reminded himself. 'She trusts her. And she is a better judge of character than you ever were.'
The tension within his skull urged on another headache. What with Jill's suspicions, and the attack on Chris...could it all be linked? Was he missing something vital?
Strange though it was, it was then that his eyes flicked to his in-tray, to another brown envelope with a Post-It slapped onto the front.
'I took the liberty...hope you don't mind. H.'
Leon tore into this envelope with more tenacity, pulling out a thicker wad of paper. Familiar names were printed every four or five sheets, segments of files copied and pasted at leisure. A list of names at the end had nothing to them; clean checks, nothing to note. But the rest...
Three former Tricell staff members, two of whom were previously employed by Umbrella. On top of that, four further names were investigated during the crackdown on Tricell. All seven were found innocent, but the connection remained.
And each and every one of them was employed by the hospital in which Jill currently resided.
The vibration of his cell ran through his leg. He jumped, swearing violently as he reached for it, not checking the number before he answered.
"This better be important," he snarled, continuing to leaf through the document before him.
"Did your papers tell you what we already know?"
The voice was masked, pitch raised though not enough to disguise its femininity. And there was something familiar about it, something that rang more bells than was natural.
"Hendricks?" he surmised. He rose to his feet, peered out of the open blinds across his window.
"Not Hendricks," the voice said, calmly. "But we have our eye on her too."
There was nothing out of the ordinary outside; a vast expanse of land, another building and a high fence that was nigh impossible to scale, even with help.
"Look all you want, we're in the wires."
Of course. The damn webcam. He sighed as he settled down before it, not even bothering to disconnect or cover the equipment.
"What do you want?" he demanded. "I assume you're the one who has been sending the messages."
"You assume correctly. We don't care about your agenda, Kennedy. You don't need to worry about Hendricks. Everything is under control."
"You're calling me just to say that?"
Silence, for a heartbeat.
"If you care about Valentine, get her the hell out of St. Anne's."
Was it a threat against Jill? Or one against him? He chose his words carefully now. There was nothing to suggest that this voice, and whoever 'they' were, were enemies of their cause. At the very least, they appeared to have a common concern for Jill.
"Why? Is she in danger?"
"Get her out of there. Or we will. Tick tock."
May 6, 2009. St. Anne's Hospital.
They had checked her room once since lights out at 10pm. She made every effort to appear placid and sleeping, had even hidden her medication that night so that she would not accidentally drift into a slumber. Add to that the three cups of coffee she consumed before bed, and everything was going to plan.
At 1:30am, Jill finally emerged from the covers, tiptoeing to the door to hear a silent hallway on the other side. With one hand, she twisted the pin, the other pressed to the door. Picking a lock with a hairpin was a feat most considered a show for the movies, but she had achieved it once or twice, once with her old partner as an audience. Part of her cursed him for not gifting her with something a little easier to use, but at the same time she thanked him for bringing her anything at all.
Her heart beat steadily in her throat, the pounding of it threatening to drown out sounds she desperately needed to listen out for. But there was nothing outside her room that would impede her progress.
The feet that slapped against tiles were still bare, so extra care was taken to dull her footsteps. Voices laughed and joked at the end of the hallway, guards far too preoccupied by what appeared to be a home video show. Even so, she ducked beneath the window, pressed herself against the wall, almost crawling towards the end of the MaxSec wing.
It was here that the first flaw in her plan became evident. The door was always locked, MaxSec guards being the only personnel who could open and close the divide. She remained crouched by the corner, fear growing as she contemplated just how she would break through this lock. There was no way in hell she had all the equipment she needed on her. Pyjamas and a hairpin were hardly the tools to a daring escape.
It was futile, all of it. Why had she believed even for a second that she could pull this off?
The clock in the guards' room read 1:45 now. She was running out of time.
The yellow light turned to red almost instantly, silently flashing a warning against white walls.
The voices dropped their humour, both guards rose to their feet.
"Yellow ward," one of them sighed. "Rear sensors tripped."
"Probably a raccoon again," another sighed. "We oughtta start setting traps."
The door at Jill's side opened, and she froze, holding her breath lest she betray her position.
"Will it really take both of us?"
"MaxSec is locked down," said the other. "It can do without us for five minutes. Damn light's gonna give me a headache."
Jill found herself praising the lack of intelligence found in St. Anne's security staff. They walked mere inches from her, and yet failed to notice her crouched in the darkness. She threw her arm out almost instantly, fingers caught between the door and its frame as they let it close behind them, assuming it would lock. She waited until the footsteps faded away before she pushed it open just enough to slip through.
The television continued to play, the light still flashing above her head. Security monitors showed the absent guards approaching the main entrance to Yellow ward, dawdling seemingly without a care in the world.
The door on the other side of the guards' room was always open. It led to nothing but the daycare wing and the doctors' offices; no need to lock it down at night, not when the vending machine was on the other side.
Jill rose to her feet once the red light was nothing more than a memory. It was only a short dash from here to the main exit, but she knew better than that. Instead, she turned off the hallway, towards the new wing. There were many fire exits in this direction, not to mention a maintenance exit with a lock so old the thought of picking it felt like a waste of time.
'Please be there, Chris,' she pleaded internally. She would not know what to do if she broke through the other side only to find herself alone. And once again she hated how dependant on others she had become.
One more corner, one more stretch of hallway...
She froze in her tracks, watched the door she needed close behind the last person she wanted to see.
Dr. Hendricks seemed surprised to see her, but that was the point; she wasn't supposed to be here, there was no way she had found her way here by accident. All of her sins, suddenly laid out before them both.
"Taking a walk?" the doctor asked.
Jill found herself unable to reply, throat too dry for speech.
"Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you escaped from your room," Hendricks continued, slightly amused. "You've picked more difficult locks in your time. But where did you get the tools?"
"Get out of my way," she warned, finding a little assertiveness within a meek mind.
"With pleasure," Hendricks said. And to the patient's surprise, the doctor stepped out of the way, even gestured to the closed door. "Though how is it that you plan to open this door? I guarantee the lock is far more sophisticated than that on your room. A hair clip would hardly be sufficient."
Jill glanced to the clip against the white sleeve of her pyjamas. Sheepishness was never an emotion she found herself host to, but she felt positively helpless in that moment. Where was the fight? Where was the woman who would have knocked Hendricks out cold by now?
Hendricks reached around her neck, unhooking a lanyard that was new to her eyes.
"You're going to need this," she said, handing it over, no questions or conditions.
Jill eyed it suspiciously, but took it anyway.
"You're helping me?"
"No, you're robbing me," the doctor said, winking so surreptitiously Jill barely noticed. "I was exiting this door when you knocked me out cold and stole my key card. You used it to go through the next door at the end of the hallway on the right, through the office there and jump out of the window. Of course I was unconscious during this last part so I will have no knowledge of the act."
For the first time since the lock of her door gave beneath the pressure of her fingers, her heartbeat began to slow.
"But you have to hurry. The security cameras currently aren't working in this wing, and the guards will return soon to notice this."
It was her. The tripped alarm. But how did?
She was working with Chris, she had to be.
"Thank you." They were the last works she spoke to the doctor, before her fist bruised against her cheek and her elbow connected with the back of her head when she began to fall.
"Harder, faster. This is not good enough!"
Bile rose from the pit of her stomach, but she swallowed it down. The walls began to tremble but she fought back the memories, fought back the psychosis. And the silence that continued on the other side of the door helped to comfort a trembling soul.
Carefully, she fumbled with one hand along the wall, the darkness taking some time to adjust to. How was she to know when the hallway truly ended, and where the turn-off was?
Was it two am already? Had Chris already given up on her and left? Was he really there at all? Was his letter just something she had misinterpreted?
A desperate hand pressed a little too hard upon one door, and it cracked but a little, dim light leaking out into the hallway. As urgent her objective, curiosity brought her to push, to ease the door open enough to glimpse inside.
But a momentary view of the walls was enough to stir nightmares within her. The clinical white, the tile, the mirror. Every nightmare she had suffered of late suddenly became frighteningly real.
"I'm not crazy," she muttered. "I'm not..."
Strange though it was, this realisation offered little comfort to her. And the walls throbbed again, shadows crept. It was too much.
Stay, remain here. It's not so bad. This was her home now. This was where she belonged.
She released the door and ran, perhaps trying to outrun the shadows, to outrun her fear. Her body collided heavily with another wall and she felt along it, reaching out for the door Hendricks had told her to take.
"You think you could ever be anything without me? You would be nothing if not for me. You would be dead!"
"I would be me," she muttered. "I would be safe, I would be sane."
Grasping fingers found the handle and she slipped into the confines of the office, crashing almost instantly into a potted plant. The leaves twisted, seemed to reach for her.
'Not today.' She was so close, she couldn't fail now.
The shadows faded back behind her as she approached the window, as she unlatched it and hauled it open. The drop was minimal, and the grass broke her fall. And there was nothing on the other side but a sizeable plain of grass before a private road - the hospital was not isolated but it was hardly in the middle of the city either.
Street lamps cast yellow light onto the neighbourhood; a suburban area devoid of any residential housing. And all was quiet, not even the chatter of animals sounding in the night.
'He's not here,' she realised. Was she even on the east side? How was she to know which was was east? She didn't have a damn compass.
Suddenly, the whirring of tires sounded down the road and she spun fearfully. Headlights blinded her, and every muscle in her body tensed, though her feet seemed rooted to the ground.
"Jill!"
She could not see him, but she heard his voice, ran to it as though it were a lifeline. Barely a foot from the car, a strong arm reached out and pulled her inside, leaning over her to slam shut the door.
"Go!" Chris yelled at the driver, and the car pulled away faster than was legal, before she had a chance to secure her belt.
But suddenly, fear dissipated. She made it. How, she was not sure, but she made it! Breathing hitched, shuddering as she settled into a new state of mind. And Chris never once took his eyes off her, seemed to breathe just as heavily. Behind the wheel, Sheva stared intently ahead, leaving the hospital far out of view.
She had made it.
AN - Please review :).