Chapter 7
Jill Valentine had never liked winters. She was more of a summer person, really. Comfy jeans and a t-shirt, the sun beaming down on her bare skin. She always had a tan and enjoyed the way guys would look after her when she walked down the street.
Right now Jill Valentine was walking down the road to hell and its walls were coated with thick layers of ice. She wasn't very much aware of the happenings surrounding her. Sometimes she realized how much her jaw hurt because she clenched it so tightly, but couldn't do anything to change it. She couldn't feel her fingers, or her toes. She couldn't feel her arms and legs at all. There was only a diffuse pain, unlocated, everywhere, omnipresent.
And when that pain grew too intense to bear she gradually slipped back into the icy darkness, hiding in the shadows in an attempt to escape agony. Most of the times it worked.
Now, it didn't.
Her eyes fluttered open, painfully, the lashes clumped together by frozen water. Almost simultaneously she moaned, the sound coming from her throat as a weary gurgle. As she did so, something moved around her, but Jill was far too disorientated to make out what.
She tried to move her fingers, only to realize that she didn't know where they were. Where was she? It was dark and cold and impossible to make out anything.
Something warm brushed over her back, but she couldn't find the power to flinch at the touch.
"Jill?"
Her name. Somebody was talking to her.
"Can you hear me?"
She wanted to nod, but it was impossible. The muscles in her neck seemed to erupt into an inferno of flames. There was slight movement under her.
"It's ok. Take it easy."
The voice sounded familiar, but Jill couldn't place it. Desperately, she tried to get a grip on her thoughts, order them, remember. A picture of her and Chris drinking hot, steaming coffee flashed up, then another. Helping Brad out with crosswords. Catching up on the latest gossip with Barry's wife – BOOM BOOM – rolling down the hill, abrupt stop, snow, red white yellow red and then there was water all around her, intoxicating freezing.
Her eyes wide open Jill shot up, muscles involuntarily flexing and cramping, drawing another moan from her lips. Instantly, a strong hand pressed her back down. Her head fell against something cottony.
"Take it easy," the voice instructed again, gently but authoritative all the same. Jill closed her eyes. It was Captain Wesker's voice all along.
The memories started to return, slowly and confusingly. Havel was the man they hunted down, or was Havel the man that hunted them? They had been separated, she remembered as much. Chris, Barry and Brad had gone red-yellow-red and her and Captain Wesker red-white-red. It was the longer way, but it should lead up directly to Bravo's team. At least that's what Chris had said.
She tried to scrunch up her nose, open her mouth. Everything was numb and Jill was afraid not to bite her tongue. Eventually she dared to speak, the lone word slurred like the whirr of a snake.
"…wh…aat…?"
Wesker spoke slowly, and Jill realized that the thing she felt on her back must be his hand. It was warm.
"We were fleeing from Havel," Wesker said and she thought that she could feel his breath on her skin. "We crossed the lake, but the ice was too thin. It cracked under you, and you fell. I pulled you out as quickly as I could but by the time I managed, you had lost consciousness…"
She tried to nod, to let him know that she was listening, but somehow his comment about unconsciousness made her eyelids heavier.
By the time her inner dispute was cleared and she listened to Wesker again, he had already moved on. "I found this small cavern. To shield us from the storm. It's almost over, the storm."
That was good, Jill thought, that the storm was over, and hugged herself tighter. With a final, raspy sigh she closed her eyes completely, hoping that Captain Wesker wouldn't mind continuing the story later. It was enthralling, but she couldn't keep her concentration together. If only there would be a hot, steaming cup of coffee, like the ones she used to drink with Chris.
--
When Jill woke up again it was accompanied by heavy trembling, almost cramping and her teeth instantly began to clatter with a fierce speed. This time, she was fully aware of her surroundings, of the pain that shot through her body like arrows put on fire.
Wherever she was, it was dark. Pitch black and silent, apart from the cruel wind that could be heard whipping at the trees and any unfortunate persons outside. At the thought, Jill shuddered. A piercing pain snaked through her limbs at the movement and a curious sound emitted from her lips, a mix of a moan and yelp.
At the sound, something shifted. Some warmth and weight was lifted from across her chest and with confused terror Jill realized that she was sitting upright, held in place by two strong arms. Her first thought was: He's got me – game over – that's it! but the following words slowed her heartbeat to normal pace.
"You're awake," a voice dully noted and with relief she recognized some familiarity in it. It was not Havel's voice, or that of any other criminal. It was Wesker's voice and exhaustedly Jill let her body slump back into place; against something that was softer than the crude stone walls of the cave, and certainly warmer.
She tilted her head, first left then right, and grimaced. Every movement hurt, burned, like a thousand needles were plunged into her skin simultaneously.
"Take it easy," Captain Wesker cautioned and his body moved under hers. The change in position allowed Jill to see the outlines of his face in the darkness. He was sitting against the cave wall and she was sitting in his lap, held up by his arms. The realization made her feel very uncomfortable, the situation seeming unfitting. Her cheeks flushed involuntarily and she hoped he didn't notice in the darkness.
"Can you feel your arms?" Wesker questioned instead, giving her some space by letting his own hands drop to the ground. The warmth they provided faded instantly and Jill shuddered. She tried to follow his request and flexed her limbs, wincing loudly.
"… they hurt…" she said and was surprised how small her voice was.
Wesker just nodded in the darkness. "And your legs?"
That was an entirely different matter, Jill soon found out. She wanted to bring up her legs to curl up even more, but even after several tries all she got was a few inches of movement and an inferno of pain. Frustrated, she stopped her attempts.
Be it that her expression was visible in the darkness, or Wesker simply sought to calm her, he said, "It's ok. You've been through a lot. We'll be home soon."
She couldn't part his optimism, instead feeling hot tears at the corner of her eyes. She could barely feel her fingers, coordinated movement impossible. While brushing the numb hand over her body, Jill noticed the blanket wrapped tightly around her lower body, and most importantly, the absence of wet, cold clothes sticking to her frozen body.
Running a hand over her torso, she realized two things. The thick jacket she was wearing was dry, and her hand was wrapped up somehow, as if tucked into a mitten. She brought it closer to her eyes. It was wrapped up in bandages, her fingers together. It explained why she couldn't move them.
Her hand was suddenly enclosed by another, bigger one, Wesker's and gently tucked into the pockets of her jacket again.
"You sustained a few notable frostbites," he explained, moving slightly. The position he sat in could hardly be comfortable. "I managed to patch them up well enough for the night. We should be near the camp. Now that you're awake, it's only a matter of hours."
She wanted to tell him that she couldn't walk, wasn't feeling her legs well enough to give them commands, but another thing was on her mind, that strangely seemed more important.
"Why… is it dry?"
There was no immediate answer. Perhaps he didn't understand what she meant. She hadn't been very elaborative.
"The jacket?" he asked and she nodded slowly. He leant back against the wall, wrapping his arms around her again. She didn't feel awkward. It had nothing romantic or sexually attractive to it, nothing to be ashamed or shy about. It was plain survival, sharing body heat to last the night.
"You were soaking wet when I pulled you from the lake," he explained. "Your temperature was sinking rapidly. I gave you my jacket."
The words bore an unsettling realization. If he'd given her his jacket that meant he'd discarded hers. Her jumper too? Her shirt? It was an absurd fear, that he's seen her naked or semi-naked, and although he had undoubtedly saved her life by removing her wet clothes, it made Jill very uncomfortable in the place she sat.
She avoided looking up at his face, even if the darkness would mask his eyes anyway. There was a lump in her stomach and she felt sick and her head pounded matching the rhythm of her pulse. She had the impulse of telling him to take his hands off of her, to keep some distance and mind her fucking personal space, but she knew that if she valued wrongplaced pride and stupidity over her body's needs to stay warm, neither of them would last the night.
"It will be dawn soon," Wesker noted, thankfully changing the topic. "The storm ceases. We can't be far from the camp now."
--
Wesker proved to be right in terms of weather. The storm was gone, leaving behind a lot of snow that shone brightly in the resurfaced sun. Jill had never been so happy to see the sun. After their conversation she had slipped back into a dreamless sleep, until Wesker had woken her again; at dawn.
The feeling in her limbs had painfully started to return, but not as much as that Jill was able to move on her own. Captain Wesker silently helped her back into her frozen combat pants and boots – he'd undressed her to her underwear and wrapped her up in his dry jacket and the thick blanket from the equipment bag – and although Jill had never felt so embarrassed and helpless in her life, she was thankful for his actions and more so, his silence. He wasn't making a big deal out of it and that was a good thing.
The pants felt icy on her legs, but they had become so frozen during the night that they had lost the effect of being actually wet. Her boots were hard as stone – or ice – and because Wesker had wrapped her feet up in bandages, the same way as her hands – she barely fit into them. Every movement felt like a knife being stuck in her sole. Jill clenched her teeth and limited herself to wincing and occasional moans.
After the painful procedure Wesker helped her up to her legs, supporting, as first her legs betrayed her, buckling dangerously under her. The feeling that shot up to her brain could be compared to someone impaling her and despite herself, she clutched tighter to him.
They stood that way for a few minutes until Jill eventually nodded, letting go of him slowly. She stood in her frozen boots and probably made the most miserable sight as a police officer… which reminded her of…
"My gun…" She felt for it at her belt, but both it and the holster were gone.
Wesker lifted his jumper a little – he must have been awfully cold in just that jumper, but Jill wasn't giving away the jacket under any circumstances – to reveal a second holster, including the pistol attached to his belt.
"I took it, though there's not much use to it. It's full of water and it froze inside the barrel. You would probably blow your hand up, if you attempted to use it."
Jill simply nodded, leaving it at that.
She slipped the blanket over her shoulders while Wesker took the – almost empty – duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. He gave her a last scrutinizing look.
"Can you walk?"
"I don't have much of a choice, do I?"
He seemed to take that as a 'yes', because he turned around and led the way out of the cave entrance, and Jill silently thanked him for choosing a slow pace to allow her cold muscles to adjust to the new work they were given.
--
She'd lost track of time. Her watch had said goodbye to the world as soon as it had made contact with the water, making Jill wonder if the 'water proof' sign on the back was just there for decoration. She was holding up well now, in fact managing to keep warm by the constant walking.
They even managed to gain a little speed and the sun shone high in the sky, warming their exposed skin. There was no sign of Havel, either.
The only thing that troubled Jill slightly was the way Wesker stiffened from time to time, his face contorting in pain whenever he lost footing in the snow.
Eventually she took up the question. "Sir?"
He turned his face to her, expectant.
"You seemed to be in pain a minute ago…"
He just stared at her for a moment, then readjusted the bag on his shoulder with a sigh. "I might have cracked a rib."
Jill grimaced. "Do you want me to take the bag?"
"No." He shook his head. "It's alright. Keep going. We can't be far now."
In one point he was right. They weren't far. Only not far from who or what, that remained to be specified.
The crossbow arrow suddenly embedding itself beside them in the snow with a frighteningly loud whoosh gave Jill a vague idea.
It's exam time and what am I doing? Writing fanfiction, as can be seen. I am incredibly sorry for the long waiting intervals, RL's been kind of hectic lately.
Also, an (un)interesting tidbit on this chapter: It was originally intended to be Barry/Chris focused, but then the little voice in my head said, 'To hell with that give 'em what they want!' We shall visit Chris and Barry and the rest of the merry crew next chapter.
