YOUR GIRL FUCKED THIS UP BABIES I'M SO SORRY

I was tired as hell and posted the wrong chapter please read this one thank you.

London crawls ever closer to recovery after that horrendous night. Jill finds herself easing into a reality that stuns her so. She has yet to return to her work at the umbrella, the army is far too busy containing the recently infected population of the poor and rebuilding projects within the city.

Jill thinks it is quite foolish to ignore a cure, however, she cannot complain too much. With the lack of work, she is able to spend her days with the still quite ill Claire whose time awake is much like the winter sun: brief, foggy, and hardly at all.

Once a doctor has properly examined the young woman and proclaims she is neither dead nor undead, Rebecca is quick to accompany Jill's visitations. Often times, they are joined by Mr. Redfield, who worries, paces, and laughs nervously before excusing himself for his nerves. Rebecca teases him about his concerns while Jill prompts him to banter with her instead of overthinking such trifles.

Even with the distraction of Claire's health, however, Jill cannot help but keep her focus on a cure. She brings her journals with her when Rebecca cannot attend such afternoons and yet she has found very little in the way of progress. She is frustrated and devastated at her lack of development, she fears greatly for what could happen should the undead strike again. Will she be able to stop them a second time?

One particularly frustrating morning, just shy of one week after the attack, Jill wakes nearly an hour later than usual. She seems to have misplaced her most recent string of thoughts she'd written down and she's fairly certain Ethan is gone for the day. All of this meaning she either has to disobey his orders and go to the Redfield's unaccompanied, or wait until his return.

Thoroughly put out the with this self-inflicted circumstance, she huffs dramatically at her own reflection before making her way down the stairs. Thinking that she might indulge in a late breakfast to brighten her spirits, she strolls lazily through the home.

When she reaches the bottom of the stairwell and spots Mia alone in the drawing room, however, Jill's plans are quick to change as she stops in her tracks.

Mia's writing something down, it looks like a letter from Jill's distance, though she can't be entirely certain. The woman looks contemplative, tired even, before she reaches down to her sewing kit and pulls out a vial. Jill watches as Mia seals the letter with its extra package, then opens the nearest window and drops it into the garden.

What must be a spirit possesses Jill then, as she waltzes into the drawing room, making her presence undeniable with a slam of the door behind her.

"Oh! Jill, what a surprise." Mia turns in shock, the window sliding shut without a sound.

"Good morning, Mia." Jill eyes her host as she returns to herself.

"I had thought you would be at the Redfield's by now." She sounds almost weakened by Jill's very presence. The younger of the two tucks her hands behind her back as she stows away this reaction.

"I'm afraid I overslept, did you not notice my absence at breakfast?"

"Oh, yes of course, we did!" Mia chuckles, "I had thought perhaps you had skipped a meal, you often did so during your days at the laboratories."

Jill nods taking one step forward as she asks, "What are you doing?"

Mia waves off Jill with a smile, moving to put away her sewing kit.

"I was hoping for some fresh air, the fireplace tends to make this front room quite stuffy."

"No." Jill removes her pistol from her belt, "What. Are. You. Doing?"

"Jill-"

"Why were you at the orphanage the night of the attack? Why are you always out of this house? Why do you speak in hushed tones with Zoe Baker? What are you doing, Mia?"

Mia glances between Jill's face and the gun in her hand, unable to speak at first.

"What do you have to do with the Birkins?" Jill asks, pulling back the hammer of her gun.

"Jill, please, allow me to explain."

"I am."

Mia shakes her head, "You are more observant than I had anticipated."

"Truly?"

"Have you met the man I married? A darling man, but blissfully ignorant that one. You are different, however, but of course you are." Mia seems to have calmed since being introduced to the opposite end of Jill's gun. It's strange, or perhaps it's soothing, they both know something is amiss now. To have something definite, undeniable, it is a welcome change.

"I do not hear you answering any of my questions."

Boldly, Mia takes a few steps toward her guest. "Accompany me, and I will show you where I have been. This is clearly not a place for secrets."

"Accompany you where?"

"You want to know why I leave this house so often? I will show you where I go and what I am doing."

Jill hesitates, but her trust in Mia wins out, forcing her to replace her gun to its holster. This could perhaps be a terrible decision, but it's one Jill has a feeling she won't regret.

Mia continues packing away her sewing with relaxed shoulders.

"Tell Margaret that I am taking you shopping, you're in need of new gloves."

Jill nods once, skeptical even as she complies to her host's wishes. There's a flood of humiliation in her body, at the idea of what she has just done before a woman she calls friend. Yet Jill ignores such feelings in favor of retaining her fearlessness; she must believe that good will come from all of this, she's little else in the way of choice.

Mia and Jill say nothing to one another as they walk briskly through the city streets, buildings are still charred despite the street-cleaners best efforts. Indeed, there have been nearly endless fires for the undead in the past week, the typical smog of the city has been amplified tenfold. Windows have taken on a yellow tinge that no amount of cleaning or passage of time could ever hope to wipe away completely.

They approach an unassuming house, with the usual fortifications and the stain of ash from all that has transpired. It stands but four blocks from the empty lot which once held the orphanage. Jill shivers at the thought, whilst Mia knocks three times at the door.

When Zoe Baker answers the door, Jill very nearly collapses with shock.

"Mrs. Winters, do you think this is wise?" The maid hardly glances at Jill before asking.

"I think we have no choice in the matter." Mia says cryptically. Zoe nods once before moving to the side, allowing them entrance.

"I see you care little for your husband's good opinion." Jill chuckles briefly.

"My husband has no understanding when it comes to the horde, and therefore, his opinion on the subject has little bearing on my actions in that regard."

"So this does have to do with the horde, then?" Jill quirks a brow at her host.

"Was that ever a question, Jill?" Mia gives her a sly smile, "I doubt you'd have pulled a gun on me if I were involved in a sewing circle."

"And you still brought her here?" Zoe Baker asks nearly aghast.

"I'm not a fool, and I've always said that we should have brought her here sooner. Given her involvement in all of this, we should have known better." Mia says sternly.

"And where exactly is here?" Jill inquires with a laugh once the women have glared for a sufficient period.

"Miss Valentine, what you are about to witness will be trying enough, please restrain yourself." Zoe Baker says firmly.

"You speak as though I'm to meet the devil himself."

"You've already met the man." From the nearby room comes Annette Birkin's voice.

"I had a feeling." Jill agrees stepping closer to the doctor's wife.

Just behind the woman is a little girl sitting on the floor of the parlor, she stares at Jill in surprise and Jill is equally shocked to see Sherrie Birkin in person.

"Mia, this is a mistake. I've told you time and again not to get her involved." Mrs. Birkin scowls at Jill.

"I think it was a mistake to let her stay in that useless umbrella for so long when you know she's capable of helping us." Mia folds her arms bitterly.

All of her usual charm and grace gone from her face, now she stands stern without a bit of gentility in her. Jill is a bit taken aback by this version of Mia, how cold and determined she is. To see her stand up against Mrs. Birkin is a welcome, albeit startling, turn of events.

Mrs. Birkin scoffs, closing the parlor door behind her, as if to shield the young girl from their conversation.

"Well, you've brought her here, how much of our progress have you compromised." Mrs. Birkin says with a fold of her arms.

"Christ, Annette, we need help! We've been stuck for nearly a month now, you can't keep trying the same thing over and over again. It clearly isn't working." Mia rebukes her.

When those words are met with silence, Jill is the one to speak.

"Perhaps another opinion is necessary, I'm available and more than willing to oblige."

Mrs. Birkin scowls at Jill before speaking, "I don't trust your intentions."

"And I distrust yours, but which of us requires the other?" Jill tests her.

After a tense moment, Mrs. Birkin relents. "I swear to God himself if you make any of this worse I will kill you."

"I should hope so." Jill returns viciously before Mrs. Birkin can turn away.

"This way, Jill." Mia moves ahead of the younger girl with Zoe taking up the rear.

Jill follows after the two silently brooding ladies, wondering for a moment if she should be afraid. Soon, however, she is distracted by the eclectic nature of the house. The Birkins are well stocked with an odd assortment of weapons and medical tools that double as decoration on their walls. Some such tools are difficult to distinguish between the two.

Once they reach the back of the house, Mrs. Birkin lifts up a rug to reveal a trap door; despite how ominous all of this feels and how terribly uncertain she is in where she has placed her trust, Jill continues down with them. Down several flights of stairs into the basement, they come upon a full-scale laboratory. Jill holds in her shock as Zoe lights several candles to brighten the room, while Mia and Mrs. Birkin begin producing samples, notes, and other such items Jill does not recognize.

"You are right, that my husband is neurotic. That he can hardly keep a single thought straight long enough to speak." Mrs. Birkin says, boredly flipping through the pages of a journal. "That's because he's a drunk, a mere byproduct of being too good for the circumstance we now find ourselves in."

"I beg your pardon?" Jill asks.

"The doctor is wrapped up in something much larger than he had anticipated initially." Mrs. Birkin shakes her head ruefully.

"Dr. Birkin works for the true purpose of the Umbrella, you mean." Zoe gives a spiteful retort.

Mia stands between the two of them before any other words can be exchanged.

"Our meaning is this, Dr. Birkin, knowingly or not, is helping produce the zombification virus." Mia says. "More commonly known amongst the Umbrella's inner circle as the T-virus. We have our suspicions that he and a few other doctors are experimenting with the current iteration of the disease to make it far, far worse."

Jill is left with an internal stalemate, should she be surprised? Perhaps she is just a touch, still it feels impossible to be shocked when he spoke so clearly about the hive minded horde.

"So this, T-virus, it is man-made then?" Jill asks once she returns to her senses.

"As far as we are aware. We've no reason to believe otherwise, nothing of this sort has ever been found in nature that even comes close to resembling it." Mia responds handing Jill the notebook she'd been thumbing through. So distracted is she, however, she hardly cares to look through the book, and instead keeps her attention on the women before her.

"My working theory is that Oswell Spencer was the first to create the virus, but its origin is of little consequence to us at the present. What matters now is finding a cure, before it gets worse." Mrs. Birkin turns to one cabinet and produces samples to observe.

"If it is man-made, it can be reversed, plain and simple." Mia says confidently. "That has been our aim here."

"If I may ask, how did you become involved in this, Mia? Forgive my ignorance if it is so, but you had very little interest in zombification before your marriage, at the least according to your husband."

Mia's gaze darts to Zoe Baker as her jaw sets in place.

"That is a… sensitive topic, but I see why you would ask such a question." Mia sighs, approaching the letter she'd dropped into the garden which now sits on a counter-top. It is only slightly damp from the dew as she opens it to produce the vial for Mrs. Birkin.

"It's my fault." Zoe steps forward, "To be fair, it is my brothers fault more than mine, still I own some of the blame."

"You're infected." Jill says it despite her disbelief.

Zoe nods, rolling up her sleeve to reveal the bite on her arm. It's still angry and bruised, clearly incapable of healing, but the gray of her arm stops at her wrist and elbow.

Jill gasps, taking a step away from with woman. "Dear God in heaven."

She can't help herself from speaking, it's a jarring thing to see even if she was suspicious that such a thing was possible. To know and to see it is reality, is an entirely different beast.

Once Jill has regained her composure she speaks.

"So, I'm assuming the decomposition process does not affect everyone as equals, in that case."

"Indeed."

"You knew that already. Did you not?" Mrs. Birkin hardly moves from her studying of samples.

"I knew that infected were capable of keeping their minds, their bodies are another story." Jill says.

Mia begins to speak as she rifles through a drawer, "Do you have a theory as to how such a thing could come to pass, Jill?"

Jill looks to the floor, head beginning to ache with the hundreds of possibilities. Once she raises her gaze, Mrs. Birkin cocks her head as if to tease her.

"The Anti-Christ." Jill answers, uncertain in the strength of her voice.

"That's what He calls himself, yes." Mrs. Birkin scoffs, "The prick."

"He calls them to live among the uninfected, is that your meaning?" Jill asks.

"It must be true." Mia approaches Jill and turns the pages of the journal in her hand. There's an intricate drawing on the page, a tree with many sprawling branches, empty save the ingredients listed on each.

"My brother's notes." Zoe clarifies at Jill's confusion, "He had a particularly wretched fascination with such creatures, but of course, my parents ignored this obsession as merely a quirk. I feared the day that his pets would be unleashed, but I knew that his research might help with a cure."

Mia places a hand on Zoe's shoulder, Mrs. Birkin pays neither of them mind as she speaks.

"We have every reason to believe that the T-virusnot only infects, decomposes, and deteriorates human life. All of our acquired evidence thus far points to a combined mentality under one ruler. That is, perhaps, the most dangerous part of the disease."

"A collective conscious, yes, Dr. Birkin said such a thing to me." Jill nods thinking about such an encounter.

Mrs. Birkin shakes her head, "The infected will typically believe they are hearing the voice of God in their first hours of infection. Then, they are given a task by their almighty, many are merely turned loose to cause chaos. Some, are given the job of dismantling mankind's defense."

"I hear that man who leads the horde, he calls for undying allegiance, and my task has always been to infiltrate the aristocracy." Zoe speaks, ashamed as she hides her deathly skin.

"You've yet to answer my question, Mia, how did you become involved in all of this?" Jill asks.

Mia's gaze turns downward and does not answer, tears falling from her eyes to the floor.

"It was before we arrived in London." Zoe says nervously, "Truly, she and her husband saved me out of their own goodwill. They didn't know me, and because of their kindness I have been given at the very least more time. I'm not proud when I say this, but it is truth. I… I attacked her, I did not manage to infect her, I received my summons just before I could. The farther one goes from the city, the weaker His link is to us. That is why country zombies are so much wilder, they're given no direction, no task to complete."

Jill approaches Mia, "Ethan told me that you suffered…"

Mia shakes her head, "This is no world to bring a child into, and I have made it my mission to make this all right. I must create a world safe enough for a baby before I have one of my own."

"Not all of us had a choice." Mrs. Birkin scoffs.

"I meant you no offense." Mia says softly, in response, Mrs. Birkin shakes her head moving onto another task.

"That is why you remain in the city, then? To avoid another… incident?" Jill asks.

"Indeed." Mia nods, "When I recovered, I met Annette. I cannot tell you why, perhaps God led me to such a decision, but I approached her about undead living among us."

Mrs. Birkin sighs as she approaches Jill, "I had known for some time that my husband was involved in all of this nonsense, I managed to get it out of him one particularly slovenly evening of drinking. Ever since I've been trying to end all of the damage he's caused."

"And this," Jill adjusts the journal in her hands, "I don't quite understand what this has to do with that goal."

Zoe bites her lip and then shakes her head remorsefully.

"I managed to save my brother's notes from his experiments, he had concocted a cure. I watched… I watched him infect himself just to see if his vaccine worked. It did, unfortunately when you allow undead loose of their chains, they attack those who are not so well prepared… My mother, my father, and of course myself."

"We've the tools enough to produce a vaccine, but we cannot get the measurements for our ingredients correct. We cannot figure out how he did it." Mrs. Birkin says frustratedly emptying one of her samples.

"The recent outbreak has done little in the way of helping us." Mia says.

"It has been more than a hindrance, it has been a crucial set back." Mrs. Birkin spits wickedly.

"What's more, I fear that a larger attack looms ever nearer. He goes silent when he plans attacks, it is a most viciously unsettling thing." Zoe folds her arms as if she were cold.

"Something has changed, He has not been active in years." Mrs. Birkin's voice cracks as she speaks.

"Me." Jill mutters it, but the women around her hear the word clearly.

"You?" Mrs. Birkin asks.

"The undead… The undead avoided me at the previous battle, and upon my arrival to the city, one spoke plainly to me." Jill recalls those terrible experiences with a grimace, "I took a brooch with the Christ lamb on it."

"One like this?" Mrs. Birkin tosses a pin towards Jill, it is the very same design though the colors are brighter.

"Yes." Jill responds. A sense of dread, heavy and terrible, settles in her chest.

Zoe looks doubtful before she speaks, "It is… It is a possibility. But what would He want with you?"

"Do you know who this leader could be?" Jill inquires.

Zoe shakes her head, "We have thought that perhaps a parliamentarian is the culprit. Mr. Ashford seems a likely candidate or even Sir Brian Irons."

"I had wondered if it could potentially be an advisor to the king, this has to be politically motivated. There's been talk recently within the palace, a new toy for the king by the name of Excella. Even if their leader is a man, I'd not be surprised if his cover would be a woman." Mia says.

"I disagree." Mrs. Birkin says, "Whomever He is, He possesses military prowess. He was no fool with the previous attack."

"Your husband is out of the question, I take it?" Jill queries.

"My husband is a victim as much as Zoe, albeit a different circumstance." Mrs. Birkin shakes her head, "In addition, He must be a part of the hive mind, and that means infected. I've every reason to believe it is General Wesker, he's such a strange man I'd not be surprised to find out if he were infected."

"Infected I might buy, the leader of such a thing, I doubt very much. He cares so little for the wellbeing of others, his apathy would hardly allow him to bring about the fall of mankind." Mia asserts.

"And yet…" Jill thinks of the missive she found on the General's desk, with Mia's name left legible.

"And yet?" Mrs. Birkin asks.

Jill informs them of the letter, "I could glean little else from it, but Mia, you are in the General's line of sight."

Mia pales at the thought, "He must know… Oh good God, I haven't a clue what he must be thinking."

"In any case, what would a leader of the undead want to do with Miss Valentine?" Zoe asks.

"Perhaps that is a mystery for another day." Mia sighs.

"You said, previously, that Las Plagas or this T-virus was manufactured by the inner circle of Umbrella?" Jill suddenly recalls such information and finds herself appalled.

"Unfortunately, it is so." Mia says.

"This whole nonsense has been a way to waste mankind's time until the Righteous One decides we're ripe for apocalypse." Mrs. Birkin folds her arms, finally giving the other women her full attention.

"But the cure… Would it be a cure, or is it true what they say? Would such a thing only be preventative?" Jill begs the question.

Zoe retreats further into herself as Mia speaks.

"We cannot know for certain until tests are conducted." She says.

"But it is highly improbable that we could return the dead to the living." Mrs. Birkin says it so cruelly even Jill flinches as the words are spoken.

"I have accepted my fate." Zoe says, "Before our vaccine can be spread, many more will die, I feel it in my bones. He will not go out without more destruction, I'm afraid."

"And we will meet him at the gates with arms and fire when he does." Mia assures her.

"What I fear more than that is the fate I should endure afterwards. When He is no longer in control and I am to lose my mind."

"Hush." Mia places her hands softly on the girl's shoulders. "I won't hear of it, and you should not dwell on such a matter."

Jill stands awkwardly as the silence settles between the four women.

"What can I do? To aide this process?" Jill asks.

"I must see your father's transcripts and your own work journals." Mrs. Birkin says, "God only knows if there's anything within them I've yet to try… But try we must."

Jill nods, "You will have anything you require from me."

Mrs. Birkin gives a belated nod, "I had hoped you would be receptive, this is more than I could have hoped for."

"I want you to read through Lucas's notes, perhaps you can find something we have yet to see." Mia says.

"Absolutely." Jill nods as the church bells outside sound the noon hour.

Mia gasps at the realization, "Dear God, we're late!"

"Late?" Jill asks as Mia bustles about the lab.

"My husband will be home in no less that thirty minutes and he's been tragically punctual ever since that scolding he gave us."

The woman rolls her eyes and yet a guilt hangs just so on her shoulders.

"Don't worry about that, I'll go. I was expected at the Redfield estate some hours ago, I'll have him escort me. You stay here, I'll make something up."

"Are you certain?" Mia asks.

"This is where you're needed most, whether he knows it or not." Jill says.

Mia nods her approval, "Hurry home then, I will see you tonight."

Tucking the journal firmly under her arm Jill departs as swiftly as she's able.

She makes it home in just under fifteen minutes, a feat she finds herself proud of considering her unfamiliarity with that part of the city. Quickly, she removes her warm clothes and enters the drawing room, before she can even think of something to distract herself with, Ethan waltzes into the house.