Only Through The Pain

AN - I won't lie, I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter. I always sucked at writing fillers, lol. Hopefully the next chapter will be a little more exciting. I have a busy month coming up so the next few updates will be a little slower than usual, for which I apologise in advance. Once finals are over I'll hopefully be back on schedule. The chapter title is from a song by The Ataris.

I have to say: it's official, I love my readers :). Thank you all for following this story and a great big hug and thank you to everyone who reviewed since my last update: Kenshin13, Tiger Snaps, Sparkle Valentine, Ryoko Metallium, Stardust4, MarnaLouw89, AsunderHorizon, Ruby Halo, xmenrocks, Devil Rebel, C. Redfield 86, Anonymous, Rugbyfan, Kira131, EnemyAce, janey's got a gun, tek and RukaStarr! Apologies to anyone I may have missed off. Please, keep reviewing :). I really do love to hear your feedback and I appreciate everything.

I also apologise for referring to Africa as a country (thank you for pointing that out, Rugbyfan). I had a serious facepalm moment when I checked back and realised what I had done. And don't worry, Rugbyfan, I wasn't offended. If nobody points my mistakes out how am I supposed to know I've made them? lol.
Also, thank you for the advice, Anonymous.

Chapter Six - A Beautiful Mistake

"I don't want to fall asleep alone, but do I want to wake up with you?"

Her world spun violently, stars whizzing across her field of vision. Even the hand she used to brace herself against the bed did little to restore her sense of balance. She found herself left with no option but to wait it out and after a few moments everything seemed to grind to a halt.

"You okay?" Chris asked with concern as he watched her wobble precariously as she stood.

"Yeah," she replied, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. "I just felt really dizzy..."

He threw the coat he had been turning the right way out onto the bed and moved towards her. A warm hand pressed to her forehead as the other slipped to her waist to hold her steady.

"Seems like you've got a bit of a temperature," he commented, the heat of her skin almost scorching his.

"Oh God, I hope I'm not coming down with something," she groaned. "This is all I need right now."

The simple thought of being bedridden filled her with more annoyance than she cared to tolerate. It had taken almost two weeks but she had finally begun to settle into a routine and adjust to the help that Chris offered her on a daily basis. His dedication to his promise moved her in a way she didn't think it would; she had half-assumed that he would give up after a few days. Yet she had never been more impressed with him and it gave her the hope that she needed to put in that extra bit of effort with her recovery. Granted, there were some things that she had yet to discuss with him, elements of her fractured psyche that she dared not reveal, but they were working together and at least making some progress. Still, in the back of her mind she couldn't help but wonder if she was asking too much of him. She knew that she did not deserve the love and attention he was showering on her, but she accepted it anyway.

"I'd tell you to get some rest, but all you seem to be doing lately is sleeping," Chris smirked. "You hungry? I could make you a sandwich. "

Jill's stomach seemed to turn inside out at the mere suggestion of food.

"Maybe just a glass of water," she requested, hoping that her stomach didn't make good on its threat to expel her breakfast.

"Coming right up."

She listened to his footsteps fade down the hall before stumbling into the bathroom and splashing cold water onto her face.

"Oh God," she muttered as she caught sight of her complexion. The colour had drained from her face, lending her skin a pale and sickly appearance. The light blue of her eyes seemed to pop and despite the many hours of sleep that she had been clocking up, her eyes looked bruised from the bags that hung beneath them.

Footsteps sounded behind her as Chris entered with the requested glass of water.

"Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?" he asked carefully, noting how the light of the bathroom emphasised her pale appearance.

She waved a hand in denial and greedily gulped down the whole glass in one breath.

"I'm fine, really," she assured him. "Just don't get too close. There's no sense in us both getting sick."

His doubt brought a frown to his features but he accepted her assurance. He saw little point in pressing matters that she did not wish to address. So far their 'talks' had went smoothly and amicably with not one raised voice and he wished them to continue that way. It was her stubborness that frustrated him as it meant he had to work that much harder to maintain their conversations. It seemed to be him that was doing all the work, but if it was the only way that she was willing to let him help then he would deal with it.

His nights had been restless, more often than not spent flicking through the literature that Rebecca had 'borrowed' from the hospital's medical library and loaned to him. The sheer amount of journals and plain text books that related to post-traumatic emotional difficulties had stunned him; he could never hope to wade through them all in the little time he had. Fortunately he had a plethora of sick days saved up that he was able to use and brought most of his paperwork home with him. It had begun to take its toll on him but he knew that he didn't have a hope of helping Jill if he didn't at least understand what she was going through from a theoretical viewpoint. He had found it more difficult than he had anticipated to come to terms with her symptoms, finding it even more difficult to not allow his findings to play on his emotional side.

'I don't know how she does it,' his initial reaction had been. Had he been in her position, he was sure that he would have given up. It was yet another testament to her strength and endurance, even if she believed that it had all withered away.

Sensing her worry over her recently-developed symptoms, he removed the glass from her hand and pulled her into a comforting embrace, which she gladly returned. Over the two weeks since her confession he had noticed her sleep patterns had almost switched completely. He could recall waking up in the dead of night to find her wide awake, staring into space. Now it was difficult to rouse her in the mornings and every little thing she did seemed to exhaust her beyond normal limits. From his reading he had come to expect a certain change in her physical health, but not on this kind of scale.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, prompted by his concern. "I mean, disregarding your dizziness?"

She sighed deeply into his shoulder. It was still difficult for her to admit what she felt but she had made a promise and owed it to both of them to make an effort.

"I still don't know," she admitted truthfully. "I'm still having nightmares, but I've also been having some weird-ass dreams."

"Flashbacks?" he asked and she shook her head in reply.

"They can't possibly be real," she laughed.

"I meant 'are you still having flashbacks?'" he clarifed.

She pulled back a little and drew a deep breath to settle her stomach.

"Yeah," she answered. "But I...I'd rather not-"

"Jill, you promised," he interrupted in warning, once again reminded of how much she was still holding back. It seemed as though he could do nothing to coax this information out of her and it worried him. What if she was concealing something important?

"I know I did, I just- You're going to have to give me time, I'm still getting used to this." She deliberately spoke in a low, trembling voice in the hopes that he would let it drop and not press her for information. Because truth be told, she was still not convinced that talking about her thoughts and feelings was helping. Most of the time she was left feeling shameful and embarassed. Of course, she would never admit this, not to him. He knew of her flashbacks but not of the content and she was happy with that arrangement.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I'm just finding it hard to help when I don't have the full picture. If I knew what you went through, maybe I'd be able to fully understand how you're feeling."

The glass slipped from his hand and landed gently onto the mat at their feet as she pushed him away from her in disgust.

"How could you possibly understand how I'm feeling?" she questioned in a low growl. "You weren't there, you weren't-"

Chris did not react to her outburst as he had previously; he held back his urge to fight fire with fire and merely waited it out. Her face contorted with pain as she shook her head, willing her anger to subside.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, realising that she had allowed herself to get wound up again. It was an unnecessary apology but Chris saw it as another sign of improvement. "It's not your fault."

"Neither is it yours," he pointed out. Jill smiled meekly, having known he would react that way. Since he had no idea what exactly her flashbacks pertained to, he had taken to constantly reminding her that she was not at fault. She appreciated his attempts to make her feel better but he hadn't the slightest idea of what she had done and therefore could not pass judgement on her actions.

"I hope you feel better later," he said with a lopsided smile, deciding to change the subject before it angered her further. "Because I still intend on cooking dinner."


A cool breeze whipped around her pleasantly as she sat patiently on the steps outside their house, head between her knees. She was so damn sick of napping that she had decided to try another method of alleviating her sickness. Her aunt had always told her to 'get some fresh air' whenever she felt queasy and while she was reluctant to believe it when she was younger, it actually did work.

Jill curled her hands into fists around the fabric of her dress in an attempt to dissipate the tension she could feel building in her temples. The dull throbbing showed no signs of subsiding even as she began to slow her breathing; a technique Chris had suggested which had so far proven to be successful.

'Damnit, can't I get a break?'

The neighbourhood was quiet, which was to be expected at that time of day. She had grown to fear silence, lost in her own empty mind for too long. But this...this she didn't mind.

"Jill?"

She looked up slowly, thankful that her head had returned to normal. At least as normal as she could have hoped for given the circumstances. Travis King walked slowly across their immaculate lawn, twirling his car keys in one hand. Jill had not been given much of an opportunity to get to know the men of their neighbourhood, but had come to know Travis quite well through her friendship with his wife, Anna. Barely out of his twenties, he boasted a physique that was representative of his career in the US Marine Corps but a hairstyle that would have looked more appropriate on a professional skateboarder. She knew that he had been out of service for some time and as a result his blonde hair had grown to a length only slightly shorter than that of Leon's.

"You okay?" he asked as he approached the steps. "You didn't lock yourself out again, did you?"

Jill laughed awkwardly in embarassment as she recalled her little 'incident' several weeks ago.

"No, not this time," she smiled. "I just needed some fresh air."

"Sounds like a good idea," Travis nodded, pursing his lips to emphasise his agreement. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," Jill told him, grateful for the offer of company. Travis reminded her a lot of Forest, and since Chris had taken to him almost immediately she assumed that she was not the only one who had made the comparison.

"Chris not in?" he asked curtly.

"Uh, yeah, he's watching some fight he missed last night," she answered. "I'm not that into boxing, so..." She drifted off wistfully as Travis nodded in understanding.

"You were looking a bit uneasy when I jumped out of the car. Thought I'd make sure you were alright in case he was out," he explained, though it was intended as more of a question.

"I, uh- Yeah, I'm fine," she stammered, thrown off by his concern. "I was just feeling a little unwell and thought the fresh air would help."

Travis smirked at her uneasily, not quite knowing what to say.

"So," Jill began in an attempt to drum up a conversation. "How are things with you? You got another tour coming up?"

"Nah," he dismissed casually. His tanned fingers ran up the length of his front door key, twirling it around as the others jangled musically beneath them. "They pretty much told me to go back whenever I feel like it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Though I honestly can't see them being left with any choice. My last psych evaluation wasn't exactly the best."

Jill turned from him in realisation, feeling a sudden bout of sympathy for her neighbour. She remembered the little that Anna had told her about his last tour, how a routine operation had gone hideously wrong and Travis had found himself in enemy hands. They were overwhelmed, she had said...they hadn't stood a chance. Out of the seven men that had been captured, only four made it back to their families.

"I'm sorry," she offered, though she knew her condolences would mean little to him, just as her friends' had meant almost nothing to her. "Anna told me about the, um...hostage situation. It can't have been easy."

Travis swallowed harshly as he let his keys fall back into his left hand.

"Look who's talking," he said, laughing incredulously. "For what it's worth, I really admire your strength. I was only gone for two weeks, you were in enemy hands for two years. And, well...bioterrorism; it's a nasty deal, you know? I don't know how the hell you're sitting here now. It would have killed me."

She didn't have the heart to point out that his evaluation was so far from the mark it was in a different playing field. Her heart bled for him, knowing that it must have been so much harder for a man to deal with the feelings of shame and inadequacy that had been plaguing her, especially with the machismo that was so often associated with being a Marine.

"It's not so bad," she lied. "No war was won without sacrifices."

"True," he considered. "Jill...if you don't mind me asking, how did you cope with it?"

She turned her eyes away from him, cornered by his assumption.

"Chris," she told him after a long pause, knowing that it was not entirely untrue. "I wouldn't have got this far without him. He always kept me going, through everything...even when fighting seemed futile. He's the kind of guy who would go to the ends of the earth to help a friend in need. I guess that's one of the many reasons why I fell in love with him."

Travis nodded slowly.

"You're lucky to have each other," he told her. "Just like I'm lucky to have Anna. It just makes it easier to bear, knowing that someone cares for you despite all the shit you've been through."

Jill considered his words carefully. He had a point; Chris was trying his damned hardest to pry information from her and while she had told herself that he was just trying to interfere, deep down she knew that he only did it because he cared. She was lucky to have him, even if she was blind to the fact most of the time.

'I still don't know what he sees in me,' she sighed inwardly.

Travis coughed uncomfortably and pushed himself to his feet.

"I know you have Chris, but if you ever need to talk to someone...someone who can understand what you went through, I'm only a short hop over the fence," he offered, making an effort not to look her in the eye. She smiled and thanked him for his offer, knowing for a fact that she wouldn't take him up on it.

"Oh, and remind Chris about poker night on Saturday," he told her as he loosened up and his voice took on a more casual quality. "We missed him the last two weeks."

Jill's smile slowly faded as his words reached her.

"He uh- What?" she stuttered.

"I wouldn't be complaining if we were playing for money; he's too damn good," Travis laughed. "I spoke to him yesterday but he didn't give me an answer. It's no big deal if you guys are busy but it would be cool if he could make it."

Poker night had been one of the many highlights of the week as far as neighbourhood life went; the guys would get together with an old set of poker chips and a few cans of beer while the women would gossip about the men over a few bottles of wine. Jill had often felt uncomfortable in the presence of the other women, as she always had; she always found it easier to get along with men. Still, she would join them every week for the sake of getting to know her neighbours and made a few good friends out of it. Meanwhile, Chris would join the guys and often come home reeking of beer but seeming content. She figured that he needed his 'man time' and the other guys were often too exhausted from work to get together on weeknights. Poker night was the one night of the week where they could all get together and just relax. Which was why it had come as a surprise to her when Chris had announced that it had been cancelled not once, but twice. She never thought to question it...until now.

'Why did he tell me it was cancelled?'

She remembered the pizza they had shared the previous Saturday, and the movie they had suffered through the week before. He wasn't busy, had no prior commitments and the activities he chose to indulge in when he should have been knocking cans and winning chips and respect were little more than normal weeknight activities.

Standing unsteadily, she furrowed her brow in thought before walking back towards their front door. The latch had been left unhooked so she was able to push it open with minimal noise and slip silently inside. Chris remained on the couch where she had left him, eyes glued to the television. She made no attempts to stifle her footsteps as she began to make her way towards him.

"Hey, Chris?" she spoke as casually as possible. He hummed in response, tearing his eyes away from his programme for a brief moment to look at her as she spoke. "You doing anything Saturday night?"

"Not that I know of. Why?" He sounded so certain, so sure of himself. Jill frowned a little in dismay before pressing on.

"What about poker night?" she pried. "I thought it was back on this week?"

Chris turned away but signalled for her to join him on the sofa, which she did.

"No," he answered. "Not this week."

She remained unresponsive as an arm moved around her shoulders and warm lips brushed against her cold cheek. 'Why is he lying?'

"Actuallly, I was thinking maybe we could order in again?" he suggested with a smirk on his lips. "Watch a movie...just the two of us."

As his words sank in, realisation dawned on her and she huffed in disbelief. To satisfy her husband's curiosity, she nodded slowly in agreement. 'Why would he lie? Why would he stay home?' The two questions that were repeated over and over in her mind made little sense to her. Above everything, she assumed that he would appreciate the time off more when he was putting so much effort into helping her. She could see the bags beneath his eyes; she knew that he was exhausted from his efforts. It wasn't like him to pass up an opportunity like this. He had even applied for leave from his work-related duties and was rewarded it without question. He was as homebound as she was and she knew how boring the situation was.

Her eyes seemed to shut of their own accord as a wave of heat descended upon her, settling painfully in her abdomen. Stars seemed to float around her again, the colours of their living room becoming monochromatic and stale in a mere matter of seconds.

"Whoa, are you alright?" she heard Chris's voice call, but she could not focus on it long enough to formulate a coherent reply. "You're white."

A large bubble of air seemed to rise in her throat, a dull ache stinging in her sinuses. When she felt an unnatural twist in her abdomen she knew what was coming and pushed herself away from Chris and their new sofa in a hurry. Her legs did not seem capable of carrying her fast enough so, for all the good it would do, she pressed a pale hand to her lips and tried desperately to remember the cool breeze that had brushed against her skin less than ten minutes ago. A violent tug deep within her told her that she was too slow and she had barely gripped the edges of the toilet seat before the contents of her stomach expelled themselves into the porcelein bowl.

A vile aftertaste hung in her mouth and she recoiled in disgust, wanting to bat away the hands that reached round and held back her long hair. The heat that his body brought to her side caused her to retch uncomfortably but she adjusted soon enough.

"I really think you should see a doctor," Chris spoke softly as he held back her hair with one hand and rubbed her back soothingly with the other.

"I'm...fine," she gasped, a claim that was invalidated by a second expulsion into the murky water.

Jill had been ill many times before and had known that one good thing came from being physically sick; not only did it expel your previous meal but it also expelled all feelings of nausea and dizziness, leaving you feeling a million times better and several pounds lighter. She waited patiently for that feeling of pure wellness to hit her, but it never came. Her stomach felt somewhat settled but the threat of a relapse lingered. Chris's large hand seemed to alleviate some of her nauseous feelings with its gentle massage but it was a small comfort.

"I'll give you two days," he promised. "If you're still feeling like this in two days, I'm taking you to see someone no matter what you say."

A frustrated groan echoed around the spacious bathroom and she slapped his hands away in irritation.

"It's just 'flu," she concluded. "I'm getting the aches and pains, too. Give it a few days and I'll be a snivelling mess. I'll cope."

She reached up to flush the toilet before pushing herself away from the bowl and resting her back against the cool ceramic bath tub. The lid remained raised, ready for her stomach if it decided to turn on her again.

"Guess I have all the luck, huh?" she laughed in an attempt to turn the situation humorous as she sprayed a burst of air freshener in front of her.

"I'm glad that one of us is finding this funny," Chris bounced back, not amused in the slightest. Jill groaned in reply and wiped the cold sweat from her brow with the back of a pale hand.

"Lighten up, Chris," she warned. "Do you have to be so fucking pessimistic all the time?"

"I'm only worrying about you! I'm your husband, it kind of came with the job description."

She laughed quietly and stretched her legs out in front of her.

"Thank you," she said through a smirk. "You don't need to, and it's annoying as hell, but...thank you."


Chris did not like hospitals, and he hadn't for as long as he could remember. They brought back memories of dark times; of hearing the news that his parents had not survived the crash that had brought them there, that his sister's cough was more serious than a simple cold, that his partner was dead and it had not been some twisted, morphine-induced dream. No, Chris Redfield did not like hospitals.

The burning scent of cleaning products drifted around him as he walked casually past the nurses station, looking for a familiar face. He noticed that the ward was unusually quiet, finding a solitary nurse behind the plastic desk frowning at the chart before her.

"Hey," he said quietly as he approached. "I'm looking for Rebecca Chambers, she told me she was working on this ward today. Do you know where I can find her?"

The nurse looked up, her dark eyes lighting up when they met his.

"I-uh, Dr. Chambers?" she asked, seeming to be relieved that someone was talking to her. "She went for her lunch break about five minutes ago. I think she's in the cafeteria, one floor down."

He muttered a quick thanks and took off down the hallway, trying not to notice the suffocating sensation that rose in his chest, threatening to smother him with its presence. The feeling seemed to alleviate somewhat as he bounded into the stairwell and down the cold stone steps. His footsteps echoed around the hollow space, simulating the unnerved beeating of his heart. When he emerged onto the second floor of the department, he made his way past the gift shop to the cafeteria he could see at the other end of the hallway. As the clink of knives and forks became more audible the hospital seemed to melt away and his nerves were once again returned to normal.

The cafeteria was without a doubt the largest public room in the hospital; it served several departments and all major wards, including the emergency department. As it was lunchtime, it proved to be quite busy but he spotted his target without much of a problem. Rebecca sat alone at a small table, nose buried in a book as she slowly raised her lunch to her lips, one fry at a time. It was obvious that she was not in a hurry and Chris couldn't believe his luck.

He approached her quietly at first, noting the patience with which she slowly and carefully turned the page before her. He could vaguely make out seemingly random numbers and letters connected to a diagram that made his head spin simply by looking at it.

"Hey, Rebecca," he called softly, announcing his presence as quietly as he could. Despite his consideration she still jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Jeez, Chris," she breathed with a small, nervous laugh. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Maybe if you didn't have your head stuck in that book, I wouldn't," he laughed, patting her on the shoulder. Rebecca seemed to show offence at his referral to her enthralling literature as "that book" and glared at him through her bangs.

"This isn't just any book," she pointed out. "This is fascinating stuff, the theories are groundbreaking! I mean, the way the author takes- Oh, sorry."

She blushed deeply as she realised that Chris was not only uninterested in her book but also wouldn't understand a word of what she was saying. He was a smart guy, she would admit to that, but his intelligence lay in a different field to her own. In matters that required tactics and combat knowledge there were few who outperformed him but in matters of medicine he was useless. It saddened her to realise that her problem was the opposite; she excelled in medicine but her combat skills left a lot to be desired. She was always the team geek and had gotten used to the label. She owed a lot of her confidence to Chris, Jill and the many friends she had made through them; her intelligence was never an issue with them and they learned to love her for who she was. As a result, she had learned to love herself and had found the courage to seek out a job that both satisfied and stimulated her.

"What brings you here?" she asked, sensing that something wasn't quite right. She knew of his dislike of hospitals and acknowledged that the decision to wander through the wards hadn't come to him easily.

"I'd like to say I just wanted to catch up, but I do have an ulterior motive," he admitted.

"Shoot."

Chris took a deep breath while he collected his thoughts and noticed that she was giving him her complete, undivided attention.

"It's Jill," he explained. "We've been a little better, but... I still feel really lost. She's not completely opening up and I feel like I'm missing something. For the last few days she's been feeling unwell and I can't get the thought out of my head that she's making herself ill, wearing herself out. I- I need to know if I'm going too fast with this. I don't want to push her too hard; I know how close she is to snapping."

Rebecca's fries lay untouched to the side as she locked her fingers in front of her thoughtfully.

"I don't think you're going too fast," she told him. "But out of curiosity, exactly how has she been feeling unwell? I mean, what are her symptoms?"

"Well," he began, allowing his mind to recap the events of the past few days. "She said that she's been getting aches and pains, headaches, dizziness... I've also noticed that she's been sleeping more often than usual and yesterday she was actually physically sick."

Rebecca's eyes drifted skyward and Chris could almost see her throught process. Her lips moved silently, repeating the suggestions that were running through her mind.

"Given her current state of mind, I'd say it's psychosomatic," she settled on, bringing her eyes back down to meet his. "It's hard to say without talking to her myself and giving her a thorough examination, but I'm willing to believe I'm right."

It was not the answer he had wanted to hear. Her words rang in his ears as his brain tried to process the new information

"You mean it's the stress?" he attempted to clarify. She responded with a slight shake of the head before placing her hands flat against the table.

"Like I said the other week, I believe she has post-traumatic stress disorder," she continued. "It is a psychiatric disorder and, like many other psychiatric disorders, it comes with physical symptoms. Hypersomnia - oversleeping - along with headaches, dizziness, nausea and even minor aches and pains are theoretically symptomatic of depression, which is an unfortunate side effect of her problem. The disorder itself is an anxiety disorder and high levels of anxiety can cause patients to feel so stressed out that they make themselves physically sick. Have you ever cried until you thought you could puke? It's kind of like that."

Chris looked away in horror as he listened carefully to her. It was a reaction he had experienced several times before whilst reading up on Jill's condition. Information like this would not normally have affected him so, but every word that he read brought him increasingly closer to realising exactly what she was going through and he sometimes found himself wondering if he could handle it. It was not something that he could take care of with a basic first aid kit or with painkillers and antiseptic; it was something completely and utterly out of his control, it was something dark and dangerous and it was something that caused her to suffer in a way he had striven to protect her from.

"So this is all because of..."

Rebecca nodded solemnly and reached out to take his hand.

"Don't let it throw you off," she persuaded him. "I know you didn't expect it to be easy and I'm not going to lie to you, it's going to get harder. But I know you're gonna make it...both of you. At least you better, because I'll lose all hope in love if you two split up."

He laughed quietly, but he knew that it was no joke. Rebecca hadn't been the luckiest person in love and he knew that it was far less than she deserved. It didn't seem fair that he should parade the fact that he was deeply and irreversibly in love with her best friend in front of her, but he needed her help and she was more than willing to listen to him.

"I do find it strange how her symptoms mirror that of the T-virus," Rebecca mused as she pushed a cold chip into her mouth. "It is quite an interesting way for her unconcious to manifest, given her circumstances."

Chris's hand paused half-way to her bowl at her thought.

"What do you mean?" His voice was suddenly etched with worry.

"Come on," she groaned. "You know the symptoms. Stage one; physical numbness, itching, intense hunger, but also dull aching in extremities, nausea and vomiting, migraines, constant tiredness and dizziness."

She looked up at her friend again as she realised what he had no doubt concluded.

"Oh, don't be stupid," she said with a roll of her eyes. "She's immune to the viruses, I confirmed that myself. Besides, if she's been feeling ill for the past few days she would have tried to eat you by now if she was infected."

Her reassurance did little to settle Chris's nerves. Theories began to surface in the depths of his mind and he didn't like a single one of them. 'What if Wesker infected her?' 'What if there was a failsafe in case she escaped?'

Seemingly able to read his thoughts, Rebecca coughed audibly and brought him back to reality.

"I know what you're thinking," she chided. "I'm just going to repeat that I ran her bloodwork through every test possible myself and she's clean. She possesses a base immunity to the toxins of the Stairway to the Sun flower, which means that she is immune to everything developed using those toxins; the Progenitor virus, the T-virus, Uroboros...even the G-virus wouldn't take. Most of Umbrella's - and Wesker's - biological weapons were derived from that plant; she is immune to anything he could have infected her with. Relax, Chris, she's not infected."

As much faith as he had in Rebecca's skills, his mind was not completely put to rest. Where Jill was concerned, he wanted to cover every base.

"If you don't believe me, shouldn't her medical results for the BSAA be back soon?"

Chris nodded in agreement, seeing her point. With the amount of screening they put their employees through, the BSAA medical team would be able to pick up even the smallest abnormality in her bloodwork.

"Please don't work yourself up about this," Rebecca begged, noticing his sombre expression. "You need to be strong for her. Plus, I don't want you going down the same path. Take care of her, but don't forget to take care of yourself, too."

She may as well have said nothing, because Chris quite frankly didn't give a damn about how he was doing. His willingness to help others even at great risk to himself was one of the many aspects that earned him both praise and respect in the old S.T.A.R.S. team, but it had also earned him several cases of disciplinary action within the Air Force as a result of disobeyed orders and general rudeness to the superiors that tried to stop him. It was a trait that he shared with Jill, only she seemed to be able to express her displeasure with certain orders in a more tactful way. When it came to Jill, Chris simply didn't know when to stop. Rebecca knew that when he said he would go to the ends of the Earth for someone, he wasn't quoting a metaphor. It was also why she was glad that he had been assigned the more sensitive Jill as his partner, to keep him in check. She often wondered if Wesker had come to the same conclusions as her and deliberately paired them up for this reason.

Will Jill's calming influence absent, she could only hope that Chris would know to take it easy this time.

"At least I know how to take care of myself," he sighed harshly. "For all the reading I've done, I still feel like I'm walking into this blindfolded. I'm even beginning to think that I can't help her. She's still holding back and...well, to be honest, I can't help but wonder if my pushing things is what's causing her to be so ill."

"Chris, please don't start like this," Rebecca begged with lidded eyes. "You really underestimate how much you mean to her; you simply being there will be enough for her. But it won't last forever, so you have to push. I honestly don't know if the pressure of confiding in you is causing her symptoms but it really is better in the long run. If...if you're really that worried about her and can't wait for the BSAA results, bring her to see me and I can check her over. If you want me to check her bloodwork again, I can push it to the front of the queue and have the results within twenty-four hours."

Her small hands moved over his, squeezing it gently. He appreciated her gesture but knew that Jill would never go for it.

"I don't cope well with feelings," he told her with a nervous laugh. "I already feel like every ounce of testosterone has been drained from me. Still, I don't think twice about doing these things for her. It's pretty much second nature to me now. I don't even understand it most of the time."

"It's love," Rebecca concluded as she grinned at him. "You're not supposed to understand it; you're supposed to enjoy it and hold on to it...and you're doing just that. So is she."

Her hand slipped away from his and she flicked back the corner of her lab coat to glance upon the face of her watch.

"Oh crap," she gasped. "Guess I was more into that book than I thought. Sorry to cut this conversation short, but I've got to go. I've still got seven more samples I need to collect before I can clock off. Are you going to be okay?"

"Aren't I always?" Chris replied with a cheeky wink. It was enough to bring a smile to her face and she beamed at him, reaching over the table for a brief hug.

"If you need to talk more, you have my number," she murmured in his ear, her breath tickling his skin. "The same goes for Jill. Any time, just call."


It had been longer than she cared to remember since she had experienced a silence so profound. The usual feeilngs of loneliness and isolation seemed to be absent and she was left with a certain sense of tranquility and peace. She silently thanked Chris for the small mercy, knowing that she had felt more comfortable with her surroundings since he had been given temporary leave from work. It still surprised her that their bosses had agreed to it on such short notice but she chose not to dwell on the fact. After all, they were Original Eleven employees. If there was one thing the BSAA had taught her it was that respect allowed you to get away with pretty much anything. Given that it was so hard to earn, especially as a female in a predominantly male business, she accepted the imbalance of power but made it a point not to abuse it.

Bored with the novel she had been flicking through, Jill rose from her empty bed and padded towards the main bathroom, legs wobbling all the way. While her sickness had eased off, the dizziness remained and she was still learning how to tolerate it without giving herself a headache. Truth be told, she preferred the nausea; at least she knew what to expect. With a yawn and a stretch she removed her robe and hung it neatly on the back of the door. Having bathed less than twenty minutes before, the bathroom remained pleasantly warm and the rich, fruity aroma of her bath salts still hung in the air.

'Man do I want to get back in the tub,' she thought to herself, remembering how soothing the warm water had felt against her skin and how relaxed and sensual it had made her feel. It made her feel - dare she say it? - like a woman again, and not simply a person.

In one fluid motion she gathered her hair up into her right hand and twirled it together, hooking it up with two fingers.

'It's been so long since I cut my hair short,' she thought. 'Should I cut it again?' She had simply let it grow following her entry into the BSAA, finding it too much bother to continuously cut when she was constantly inundated with work. It had finally grown to a length that mirrored the style she had upon joining the S.T.A.R.S. team.

'What about the colour? Should I dye it back to my old natural colour?'

She allowed her hair to fall around her shoulders once again and shuddered as the ends tickled her bare shoulders. The blonde colouring seemed to compliment her skin tone but she couldn't help but wonder if it went with the soft blue of her pyjama top.

"What's the point?" she groaned, flicking it over her shoulders. "I'd never dye it anyway."

Her fingers remained on her shoulders and she found herself involuntarily tracing the outline of her cami, feeling the small scars on her chest beneath the tips. She followed the faint lines, tracing the smaller circles then the larger half-oval in the center. 'I really should see someone about these,' she thought, repulsed by the mere feel of them. Her fingers came to rest on the curve of her breast and she let out a frustrated yelp at the tenderness of the flesh beneath her touch.

"Damn PMS," she swore, silently cursing her assigned gender.

Growing bored of her afflictions, she left the bathroom to find that their bed remained empty.

'What the hell is he doing?' she wondered, her mind drifting to her husband alone in their study. Her boredom seemed to get the better of her and before she knew what she was doing she found her aching legs carrying her across the cool tiles and out into the hallway.

The deep, masculine tones of Chris's voice drifted towards her down the empty hallway, causing her to notice that the door to the study had been left slightly ajar. Jill had never been one to pry in the business of others, not even that of her husband, but decided that it was not against her morals to interrupt what sounded like a pretty intense concersation to simply ask when he would be joining her. The only negative to emerge from her unofficial therapy was that after many nights of falling asleep in the warmth and security of his arms, she had found it very difficult to enter a deep slumber when alone.

Her pace slowed as she neared the study, the soft carpet tickling her bare feet.

"-that I don't know how to deal with this." She came to a halt just outside the door, intending to wait for a break in the conversation. It was easy to tell from the tone of his voice that he was stressed and the last thing she wanted to do was to piss him off.

"Look, Dale, it's not my department," Chris growled into the receiver. Through the small opening she could see him ruffle his hair impatiently, his face contorted into a pained expression.

"I don't care if it's throwing the records off, Miller is handling that case- No, damnit, I can't afford to take this on as well!"

Her curiosity piqued, Jill settled stealthily against the wall, observing him with an intent she wasn't quite sure of herself. Guilt tugged on her conscience but she was too enthralled to take notice.

She watched him turn a few loose papers in front of him before scribbling something hastily onto one of them. His eyes would close often, as if chasing back a headache, and a hand would always follow to roughly massage his forehead. She wondered not only what the hell was bothering him but also why he was dealing with BSAA business when on leave.

"No, I can't come in," he sighed down the phone, keeping his voice hushed. It suddenly struck her that this was a conversation he did not want her to hear.

"I just- I just can't....Don't give me that, I'm on sick leave...How many ways do I have to say 'I don't fucking care!'?"

'Sick leave?' Jill repeated his words in her head but no matter how many times she did so, they failed to make any sense at all. Had it not been for her earlier conversation with Travis, she would have assumed that she had simply misunderstood, but she was left with no doubt in her mind as to what exactly he was doing in the study: work. 'I thought he was on leave?'

"I have more important things to take care of," she heard him whisper. "I'm overloaded with a backlog of paperwork and my wife is ill. On top of that, I'm running out of sick days so I simply don't have the time to take on any extra projects...Look, give it to Hodgens, he's free this week."

As he continued to blow off whoever was on the other end of the line, realisation sank in and the heavy guilt that came with it caused her to stumble back out of view. She found it difficult to fight back the tears that stung her eyes. Before it had all began, he promised her that he would do what it took to help her but even she did not think that he would go so far as to use up all of his sick days simply so he could remain at home with her. Of course she had appreciated his company, but she never conceived the idea that he would drop everything else; his work, his friends...

Memories of their argument returned and she recalled the choice words he had used to describe his work. It meant a hell of a lot to him, even if he was forced to remain behind a desk all day. Chris would never abandon his duties. At least that was what she had thought.

'It's all my fault,' she sobbed inwardly, cursing the pain that returned to seize her heart. She had never wanted him to sacrifice anything, yet here he was sacrificing everything. His work, his friends, even his time alone.

Every wall he had broken down seemed to slowly rise within her mind as she clutched at her fragile head. How could he wear that smile when he looked at her, knowing that she was costing him dearly? How could he continue like this when it required the sacrifice of everything that meant anything to him? The pointlessness of his loss hit her continuously until she could bear the thought no longer. She wasn't getting any better and he sure as hell wasn't having fun.

"Fuck this," she heard Chris mutter from the depths of the study, followed moments later by the dull scrape of his chair against the carpet. Suddenly seized by panic, she scrambled to her feet and darted back into their bedroom, locking herself in the ensuite before she could even hear his footsteps. Her fear proved to be misguided, however, when no sound could be heard on the opposite side of the door.

She sank heavily onto the lid of the toilet, her head landing almost painfully in her hands. Once again it felt unnaturally heavy, her thoughts little more than heavy mist between her ears. She could not discern any rational theories, any suggestions as to why she may have been looking at things in the wrong way.

The relief she had felt since the day she had confessed began to evaporate, leaving her with the nothingness she hoped had been chased away for good. Frustration mingled with her pain as she realised that they had been doing nothing but running on a curve for weeks; a curve that had doubled back on itself to form a circle that left her right back where she had started. She had been willing to let Chris in because she was tired of constantly being afraid of her own mind, driving by the selfish desire to be free. It hit her now that it had been too much to ask for, that she didn't deserve to be free and this was the universe's way of telling her. Perhaps it was a test? Perhaps she was meant to witness Chris's struggle and be forced to choose between them. To her, the choice was so easy it insulted her intelligence. She was already broken, she didn't want to bring Chris down with her, not when he still had a chance.

"Jill?" she heard him call from their bedroom. "Are you alright?"

She wiped her eyes hastily and cleared her throat before replying.

"I'm fine," she answered in a sickeningly cheerful chirp. "I'm just getting ready for bed, I'll be out in a minute."

In a desperate hurry she jogged over to the sink and splashed a handful of cool water onto her face. It eased the redness of her cheeks, but not her troubled thoughts.

'He would be so much better off without me.' All this time she had been oblivious to the fact that she was holding him back. She knew that he would still be in the field if it weren't for her, he would still be happy, not using up what little sick days he had to watch bad daytime television with her and listen to her whine about her problems. If it weren't for her, he would be living closer to his sister and their friends and wouldn't have to wait until they were free to visit him before he could see them.

'Why the hell did you save me, Wesker?' Her thoughts of living on borrowed time returned and they had never made more sense to her than they had at that moment. She should have died that day. All that came of her rescue at the hands of her arch enemy was suffering. Kijuju, Uroboros...Chris.

She had existed solely in her own mind for so long that she still found it hard to come to terms with its sudden desolation. Still, the thoughts that floated in the void made a hell of a lot of sense.

'I can't stay,' she thought. 'He can't possibly be happy like this.'

The reflection before her stared back with empty eyes that seemed to taunt her with their mocking gaze, telling her that she wasn't strong enough to leave him. Deep down she knew this was true and turned away in fear as his threat of a divorce creeped up on her. She knew from the residual fear that she couldn't leave him for good.

'Than maybe for a little while?'

The idea of a break seemed to provide her with the answer she sought, but even that did not make her decision any easier to face.

"Jill?"

Her head snapped around, eyes trained on the locked door. She knew that she could delay no longer. The snap of the lock as she braced herself for a confrontation sent a shiver up her spine.

"I thought you were never going to come out," Chris laughed as she stepped back into their spacious bedroom. When her eyes landed on his shirtless form she could feel parts of her she had not been aware of in almost a month react in a way that proved most hampering to her plans. She thought it to be very unfair.

He wore a weary expression, the bags under his eyes more prominant that the ones under her own. Even his smile did not seem to reach his eyes and his stress was evident in his stance. An old S.T.A.R.S. T-shirt was pulled over his head, much to her dismay, and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, as though resigned to his tiredness. It played on her heartstrings in an annoyingly sympathetic manner and before she knew it she was crawling across the bed towards him. He flinched a little in surprise as her fingers began to work at the muscles around his shoulder blades, easing the tension out from beneath her fingertips. An appreciative groan spurred her on and she began to press harder, using her thumb to work in bigger circles. She could feel the knotted muscles ease beneath her touch and moved her hands further up, much to his satisfaction.

"Don't wear yourself out," she urged as she kissed the top of his head, thick brown hair tickling her nose. "It's bad for your health."

"Mmm," he groaned incoherently. "Speaking of health, I can see you're feeling better."

She did not want to admit that she felt as weary as he looked. The hope in his voice was enough to tell her to keep schtum.

The muscles beneath her fingers seemed somehow more pronounced than they were last time she had touched him in this way. She could feel every dip, the softness of his skin evident even through the thin cotton of his T-shirt. She allowed her fingers to move up, leaving the safely covered skin of his back to glide up his neck. The heat that radiated from his body burned beneath her fingertips and she was close enough to hear his breathing begin to hitch. In response, she slid her long fingers back to his shoulders and squeezed them gently before moving away.

'Stupid girl, this isn't how it's supposed to go,' she cursed, remembering the decision she had made whilst alone in the bathroom. This relationship was good for neither of them; it was intended to bind them together to share their love for one another but the only binding it seemed to be doing was him to her on her slow descent to hell. She didn't want to ruin one of the few genuinely good men left out there.

Still, the electric tingle that she had felt when their skin made contact must have meant that they were doing something right. Suddenly, she could think of nothing else but the blissful sensation of the friction created only by skin on skin contact, imagining his muscles surrounding her, protecting her, loving her...

He seemed surprisingly prepared for her as she moved quickly to settle in his lap, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist while he used both hands and those perfectly defined muscles to keep her from falling backwards.

"Thank you," he grinned, referring to her unexpected massage. The corners of his lips twisted into a smile as he gazed upon her face with an expression that could only be described as one of pure contentment. With a hand on each of his broad shoulders, she noted that the weariness and irritation that had haunted his eyes was no longer present. His pupils were dilated and had she not known he had spent the last three hours working in the study she would have assumed that he had been drinking. He seemed smitten, as though he were trying to figure out how she had come to be in his lap while at the same time not giving a damn, simply being pleased that she was there at all.

It made her decision that much harder to swallow. He was in love with her. She did not know why, but she understood that it was beyond all reason. If she could still elicit that reaction when he was as stressed out as he had been moments before...

'You know you can't go through with this,' a calm, rational voice told her. 'Look at him; it would break his heart! It would break yours, too.'

As selfishness took over, she leaned forward and kissed him passionately, holding nothing back. Her stomach seemed to tighten as he pulled her further into him, kissing her back as though he had never kissed her before. She had lost all sense, all reason and all rationality and snaked her hands beneath his T-shirt, feeling his hard, defined abs against the palms of her hands. Her fingers traced the ridges of muscles, her thumbs hooking his T-shirt and dragging it up his body.

"Jill," he groaned, attempting to push her back. When it became obvious that she could not be moved, he settled into the rhythm of her kiss and allowed his hands to do some exploring of their own.

Her whole body seemed to spring to life, her skin longing to be touched by the hands that had begun to move up the length of her body at an agonisingly slow speed. His nipples were hard against her palms as the T-shirt reached his armpits and he raised his arms for a moment to allow her to pull the pesky piece of fabric over his head.

"Jill, wait," Chris panted as she moved towards him once more. He needed to be sure of something and knew that once she started kissing him again he would be reduced to little more than a primitive animal. It was simply the effect she had on him.

As air rushed between their heaving bodies, Jill's mind began to clear and she was suddenly aware of what she was doing. Her hands rested on his muscular arms, her fingers tracing small concentric circles onto what they could reach of his triceps. She bit her bottom lip, trying not to lose herself to the physical sensations that made her intent on continuing the kiss.

'Come on,' the voice sang. 'You know it's guys that think with organs south of the brain. You're smarter than that. It's been a month since you gave yourself to him, you'd just be giving him false hope.'

'But I haven't felt so alive,' she retorted, closing her eyes to savour the feeling. The sexual urgency that rushed through her had surprised her at first. She knew all too well what had happened the last two times they had made love; what was to say this time would be any different? The thought of sex had never put her off; it was the lack of emotion that she had come to feel from the act that had caused her to rebuff his advances. It wasn't that she wanted to deny him the pleasure she seemed incapable of feeling; it was the fact that her unresponsiveness seemed to drive home the fact that their relationship was all but dead.

Suddenly, an idea hit her.

'Our relationship has begun to recover,' she told herself, choosing to temporarily ignore the cost that Chris was being forced to pay for it. 'Maybe...maybe it will be better this time?'

"Jill!" Chris called, noticing her far-away expression. She snapped her attention back to him and the pure lust in her eyes seemed to answer his question. Still, he needed to hear the words. "Are you sure about this?"

Jill's mind raced as she blindly searched in the dark chasm of her mind for a reason that would please the voice.

'Let this be a test,' she told it. 'If- If this goes well, I'll stay. If not...if not then I have to let him get on with his own life. I'll be no good to him.'

Her idea seemed to satisfy the voice, but the anticipation of what was to come suddenly turned sour. She knew that she wanted this, but to know that it could be the last time he held her? The thought almost killed her.

Chris waited patiently for an answer, his hands resting warmly on her back. Thinking of no words that would preserve the moment, she resumed their kiss, pressing her hips further into him. His weakened resistance as she teased his tongue with her own told her that he had accepted her silent answer. Satisfied that he had at least for now coaxed her out of her shell, he fell backwards onto the bed, groaning loudly at the sensational feel of her body against his. It had been far too long...

"God, I missed you," he moaned as her soft hair fell around his face.

She barely knew what she was doing, only that she didn't seem capable of doing it fast enough. Once more, she found herself dominated by her love for him, blind to the fact that this would kill both of them if she were to leave. How could she forget him? Even if it was just for a while. He was damn near perfect, and she knew this all too well. She knew that she would never find anyone like him, that such a man didn't even exist. But she also knew that she didn't care, that he deserved much better than her and that he would easily find it when she was gone.

She also knew that he deserved one last thought, that she owed it to him to at least try to hold on.

If only it wasn't so damn hard to do.

AN - Please review :).