IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE CHAPTER TITLED 'As Above, So Below' GO BACK AND DO THAT BECAUSE I AM BIG DUMB AND POSTED THE WRONG CHAPTER.

If you have read it, you may proceed.

Convincing Ethan to leave just as swiftly as he had arrived is an easier task than Jill had initially anticipated. Sitting in the carriage as the two depart for the Redfield estate, Jill thinks on how inattentive the man really is. For a man so keen on control as of late, he still allows things such as reputation to supersede all else. His lack of observation is, at the least, a blessing for Jill and her newfound goal.

Upon arrival, the foreman informs her that Rebecca has already left for the afternoon and that Mr. Redfield is engaged with other visitors. Jill takes up her position by Claire's side, glancing just briefly at the young lady's sleeping features before setting to work.

Zoe Baker's brother must have been – or as the case could be, still is – an absolute mad man. His writings are a mixture of incoherent and strikingly prophetic, each sentence is a contradiction to the last. Reading this work is truly an endeavor that leaves Jill feeling disconnected from all sense.

Still she feels she can glean something from each passage, he clearly knew that Las Plagas was made by man. He even reasons through the list of ingredients he'd previously outlined, yet something seems to be missing. She turns page after page, her frustration increasing as she realizes that she too can make neither heads nor tails of it.

"Busy, I see." The soft chuckle of Mr. Redfield startles her out of her skin. At her gasp, Mr. Redfield laughs once more. "I'm sorry to have broken your trance."

Skin settling, Jill offers a small smile. "Not too sorry, clearly."

"Might I inquire after what has captured your interest so?" Jill hesitates for a moment leading Mr. Redfield's smile to falter with nerves.

"You'll think I'm foolish." She claims.

"Nonsense, if you've yet to convince me you're foolish by now, I think it is clear you can't be." He says it with a laugh as if to punctuate the sentiment.

Biting the inside of her lip, Jill takes an unprecedented leap of faith.

"I… I have kept up my research." She says softly.

He raises both brows at her, "For the cure?"

She nods, the feeling in her breast a mix of anxiety and embarrassment at her own admission. Mia is going to murder her for divulging such a secret.

"I just can't stay away. I suppose." Jill's voice is nearly a whisper as her fingers drum nervously against the open page of the journal.

"Have you any new developments?" He asks.

Jill suddenly unleashes her thoughts after reading Lucas Baker's journal, censoring herself as carefully as she's able to conceal certain elements of the tale. She talks about ingredients and other known cures for ailments big and small.

Then she looks at Mr. Redfield, sees how utterly enraptured he is by her words and she laughs. It's a strange reaction, she knows it is, but little else feels appropriate.

"Now you know how foolish and fruitless my mind is." She laughs again, "All of this and to top it off I'm lousy botanist."

Mr. Redfield shakes his head, "You, Miss Valentine, are not foolish nor is your mind fruitless. You are a great many things, all of which are admirable. I find your dedication to this cause to be the most admirable of all."

He has pulled a chair up beside her during her monologue and now he glances at the journal on her lap with a pensive hum under his breath.

"You think that some kind of herb or wildlife could hold the key to our cure?" He begs the question.

"If Las Plagas was made by nature, its resolution should be found in much the same place. Don't you agree?"

"I would like very much for you to be correct." He says, "May I look at your notes?"

"Oh, they're not mine." Jill says quickly, "I had merely dug it up from my other work materials at the Winters', I think it belongs to another scientist from the Umbrella."

Still she slowly passes him the notebook, he thumbs through it for only a moment before a knock at the door startles them.

"Mr. Redfield, you've-"

"Is it urgent?" Mr. Redfield asks sternly. The tone of his voice shakes Jill briefly, and as it seems, the foreman too is taken aback.

"Unfortunately, yes. General Wesker has sent you an update." The foreman responds with a tip of his head.

Mr. Redfield lets out a frustrated sigh, "My apologies, Miss Valentine."

"It's quite alright." She assures him, taking back the journal. He takes her hand and places a gentle kiss to the back of her palm before walking away.

She's grateful for the loneliness after his departure, she doesn't have to hide the burning of her cheeks in the absence of others. Eyes following the door until the latch sounds, Jill places her hand against the flush of her skin.

"Are you too catching ill, Jill?" Claire's croaking voice nearly elicits a scream from Jill.

"Dear sweet God, Claire!" Jill's hand frantically finds a place over her throbbing heart.

Claire gives a broken hum that quickly becomes a cough, in response, Jill can only laugh.

"Serves you right for scaring me so." Jill reaches for the pitcher of water nearby and begins to pour a glass for the young girl.

"What do you expect from me? I'm feeling better now – I promise you it's true this time – yet I'm still banished to my bed."

Jill makes a half-hearted jest back before attending the duties she has inherited as Claire's caretaker. It is an unnecessary task for her, it is not as through the Redfields are in want of domestics. However, Jill likes feeling useful and the simplicity of these tasks allows her mind to ease as she goes.

Claire, true to her word, sits up in her bed and chats between fits of coughing. A welcome improvement for her previous bleary-eyed half-consciousness from earlier in the week. Jill feels something similar enough to relaxation that she can convince herself this is the case.

As the day fades into night, Claire falls swiftly back to sleep and Ethan returns for Jill, all of this feels like clockwork despite how recent a development it really is. Just as the pair bid farewell to the foreman, Mr. Redfield appears rushing down the stairs.

"Miss Valentine!" He calls, nearly breathless as he stands before her.

"Is everything alright?" She asks with a chuckle.

He lets out a breathless laugh, "Yes of course… I just wanted to ensure I saw you out."

"It is much appreciated, Mr. Redfield." Mr. Winters says but is outright ignored by the man his comment is directed towards.

"I-uh." Mr. Redfield pushes the book in his hand towards Jill. "I also wanted to show you this, but it seems time slipped away from me."

It's a book on herbology and botany, well loved from the looks of its tattered binding and bent pages. She finds some amusement in the idea that perhaps the brash impulsive Redfield siblings find solace in gardening of all things.

"What is this?" She asks with a good-natured chuckle.

"My mother was particularly invested in gardening and forestry, she's plenty of books on the topic. I would be remiss to keep such things idle when they could be useful to you. I'm certain she'd be thrilled to see it in use once more, in fact, we've a whole section of our library full of such texts that are available to you."

Jill looks up at the man who has spoken such incredible words, nearly shocked into silence with his offering. Once their eyes meet she finds she is truly unable to speak, between the depths of his gaze and sincerity of his smile she cannot retrieve her voice.

Tone soft and nearly silent, she utters a few simple stuttering sentences.

"That is… very kind of you. I-… I don't… I can't… Thank you."

He blinks once, then twice before his smile twitches with a laugh.

"Anything for you."

Jill stares at him, mouth agape, before she finally turns her gaze to the ground. She passes a quick glance to Mr. Winters before returning her eyes to the ground, just in the case she should lose her nerve. Or be caught up in the man before her once more.

"Mr. Winters should we not take our leave?" She asks indistinctly and with a wavering note to her voice.

"We've time enough." Mr. Winters responds with a chuckle.

Blushing furiously Jill curtsies to Mr. Redfield, "Good evening."

"Sleep well, Miss." He says stealing her hand to kiss it once more.

Jill hurries to the carriage, all the while her skin prickling with heat and something akin to adrenaline racing throughout her body. Mr. Winters strolls behind carrying with him a grin so large he might feel the weight of it.

Once the young woman is in the safety of her chambers she immediately sets to work with the book of the late Mrs. Redfield. The first thing Jill notices is the lovely script which decorates the margins of the text, each is almost a love letter in its own right. There are recommendations for keeping a garden in the city, cleaning the blood of the undead from the most delicate of petals, and notes on her children's favorite flowers.

Jill thinks back to Mr. Redfield's first offering of reconciliation and wonders if he arranged such florals himself. The idea of a man like him indulging in such a craft makes her smile in spite of herself. She turns each page, reading the words of a woman she'll never know, losing herself in the gentle bits of advice she gives. Some pages even have small drawings that look even more delicate than the words around them.

Then, Jill takes notice of one particularly interesting passage, Sonnentreppe is the given name of a decidedly ugly flower. With the color of burnt brick and its dry curling petals, it leaves much to be desired. The note scribbled beside it, however, has Jill breathless.

These little weeds are unwanted in the garden, but my mother swears by their ability to ward off undead. Perhaps I should give it a go sometime? A florist's nightmare they may be, but could they make for a sweet charm instead?

Jill imagines Mrs. Redfield laughing at her own rhetorical questions, the woman couldn't fathom that her flippant little note might just save the world. Rushing into the hall Jill hurries to Mia's chambers, not even bothering to knock.

Startled at first, Mia is up from her vanity and closing the door behind her guest.

"Jill, are you well?"

"More than well, I've an idea." Jill suddenly looks around the room for any sign of Mia's husband.

"He'll be in the study another hour yet. Tell me what you know."

Jill presents the book to her, "I have your solution."

Mis looks at the page and narrows her gaze, "You mean to tell me, this weed is our key to salvation?"

"It might just be." Jill says confidently.

With a sigh, Mia returns the book, "If you're so certain, we'll give it a try. But do keep your expectations measured, this is a delicate art we've yet to master."

Jill hurries back to her room so full of glee she can hardly contain herself, to think all of this had come so quickly. And with the help of Mr. Redfield…

She is overcome with a feeling of inadequacy, quick as a whip she begins rifling through her belongings before producing one of her father's old knives. Mr. Valentine developed a habit of giving Jill his old weapons as family heirlooms, even the ones that would never fit in her lithe hands.

This particular blade was hand crafted in the orient with a pure jade handle and a sturdy steal edge. It's far too long for her to call a dagger, but it's always been one of her favorite pieces from her father. She thinks that perhaps it would find better use in the hands of someone else than at the bottom of her trunk.

Mind made up, Jill wraps it in spare parchment lying about and places it atop the book. She leaves out the strangeness of it all as she goes, thinking instead on how quickly a mind can change when given the chance to grow. Much like flowers, she supposes…

The next morning, Mia tells Ethan that she wants to send an order to the florist and he is more than willing to oblige her. Jill and Ethan depart with her wish list soon after breakfast, the man oblivious to what he really holds in his hand.

Left off at the Redfield estate, Jill makes her way not to Claire's chambers. Rather she walks purposefully to Mr. Redfield's study and is delighted to find him sat alone, reading through a letter she presumes.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." She says pushing open the already ajar door just a touch.

He looks startled by her presence but stands to bow towards her nevertheless.

"It's a pleasure to see you this morning." He says beckoning her closer.

She offers the book and parcel to him once she is close enough to do so. He looks confused and hesitates to take the tribute at first.

"What's this?" He asks.

"Your mother's book back, it was helpful beyond comprehension." She clears her throat before continuing, "And the other is for you. To keep of course."

He draws his brows together, "What for?"

Jill bites her lip before speaking, "For a great many things, truly. For your help in my independent research, most of all. You have… startled me with a friendship I did not envision for myself. You've done more for me than I might have deserved given how I treated you initially. I hope that you know your trust was not displaced."

"Of course it wasn't, you are an incredible person to trust, test, and tease." He chuckles, absentmindedly opening the parcel before she can depart.

When he sees what he's been given his mouth drops open and his head shakes.

"Miss Valentine, I can't accept this."

"Then it's a particularly good thing that you were not given the choice to refuse." She says with a laugh. "It's a gift, take it."

"But this… it's too much. You must have spent a great deal on it."

"I get no use out of it, it's too big and heavy for me to even think of using it. In addition, you'll be glad to know I spent not one cent on it." She starts to walk away when he calls out.

"Is this your father's?"

She turns back towards him with a laugh, "Well, at one time yes, but now it's yours. Use it well."

With that, she leaves to Claire's bedchambers, wherein she finds Rebecca already teasing the young miss on her absence the previous morning. Mr. Redfield does appear later in the afternoon but says nothing to Jill in his brief visit. He then escorts Rebecca home, stating that he's a meeting with Colonel Burton and a few others.

Jill thinks little of this, her mind instead wanders to Mia and hoping above all hopes that this time their cure is on the right path.

In the following weeks Claire's health improves dramatically, and with it, the spirit of London rises from the ashes of anguish. Jill's yet to be asked back at the umbrella, for better or worse, the military is far too overwhelmed with the infected populace for such a venture.

As for her own attempts at a cure, Mrs. Birkin says that this newest batch looks promising. She's already tweaking the recipe from her first attempt, but the Doctor's wife has a hopeful gleam in her eye, something Jill has never seen before.

Splitting her time between the Redfields and the Birkins is an arduous task, but one she keeps up as best she's able. When she does spend the day in the laboratory she feels anxious and fearful as if something terrible is bound to happen. It is truly an escape when she spends time with Claire and Rebecca, it is more than therapeutic, it is life-saving.

Claire has insisted upon sitting in the formal parlor this particular afternoon, positive that her health will persist through tea. She does quite well, considering it is the first time she has spent much time at all outside of her room since the attack. Yet, she still retains a glassiness in her eye, she's sparse with her laughter, and her shoulders slump as the hour wanes on.

"Shouldn't you be in bed, Miss Redfield?" Mr. Redfield laughs as he enters the room, hands behind his back.

"I am enjoying the company of my friends, brother. I could do without your intrusions." She waves him off.

"I believe Dr. Gaunce advised that you not waste your energy." He responds.

"I'm surprised at you! Socialization is hardly a waste." She laughs as Rebecca stands from her seat.

"I think it is time for Jill and I to depart, Claire. Allow me to return you to your chambers." Rebecca smirks.

Claire gives her a scowl, "You're supposed to be my friend."

"I am! I should very much like it if you were to remain in good health so that I am not left without you." Rebecca laughs holding out her arm to the younger girl.

"Very well." Claire rolls her eyes dramatically. Jill stands to squeeze her friend's hand before she departs.

"I suppose I must be off then, Miss Chambers has demanded it of me." Jill laughs softly to Chris.

"You are wise to heed her words." He nods but stands in the way of her exit.

"Is there anything you require of me, sir? Or do you intend to thwart Rebecca's plans?" Jill asks with another chuckle.

"Absolutely not, I could never dream of such a venture." He laughs nervously. "I uh… I…"

With a sigh he produces a parcel, gaze shifting between her and it.

"For you." He says.

"I couldn't." She says with a shake of the head.

"You can and you must." He insists, "I don't know what Claire and I would have done without you these past few weeks. Please, allow me to express my gratitude."

"It is unnecessary." She continues.

"At the least, spare my pride." He laughs, it's nervous and nearly ashamed. "My, what a familiar situation this is, is it not?"

Jill hesitates once more, but relents upon his observation, opening the package as delicately as she can, in preparation for the case that she should need to reject it. There's a jewelry box within and she nearly stops there; however, Mr. Redfield's gaze encourages her to continue.

Despite the furrow of her brow, she opens it and gasps at the sight. There lies a delicate golden chain gleaming in the light, on it hangs a frosted glass piece; reminiscent of a bottle for perfume and is even filled with what she assumes is fragrance. This realization leads Jill to realize that such a thing should be quite expensive.

"It's the latest fashion from Paris, so I've been told. A vial of poison to use against the undead." His tone is hushed, as if it were a secret.

"I can't accept this." She says.

"Please." He's reached into the box to hold up the jewelry so that the poison bottle catches the light.

Mr. Redfield doesn't ask if he can drape it on her, he merely circles her body and places it gently around her neck. His fingers trail the line of her spine as he clasps the piece, his breath cool against the flush of her skin.

"I want you to have it." He says it hardly at all. As if he did not want her to hear the words but they needed to be stated.

She reaches up to hold it, looking at how the light passes through the glass and the sloshing of poison within. So entranced is she, she does not notice his hands on her shoulders or his cheek pressing into her hair.

It takes the wayward nature of his hand, two fingers slipping just the slightest bit beneath the fabric on her shoulder, that jars her back into reality.

"Mr. Redfield!" She gasps, fighting off the embarrassment she feels at the indecency of such an action.

Even still, they do not move, aside from the offending hand that broke their trance and their faces turning towards the other.

"I…" He is impossibly close as he stutters. "That was improper of me. I apologize."

She is the one to move away, two steps towards the door before she shakes her head. Taking in a sharp breath she turns back around to face him.

"Consider it forgotten." She assures him in an attempt to regain her composure.

"Thank you… You are quicker to forgive than most would be." He says breathlessly.

Jill says nothing until Rebecca calls for her.

"I must be off." Jill resolves with a nod. "I… Thank you… For the gift."

She turns away so that her blush cannot be seen by him.

"You are welcome." He responds in equal measure.

"Goodbye." She does not await his response.

She rushes out to the main hall where Rebecca stands dressing in her outer wear. Jill pulls on her coat and they depart.

It isn't until they are about to bid another farewell that Rebecca notices the necklace.

"It's beautiful! I've seen many ladies wearing such a thing. You haven't had that on this entire time, have you?" She asks observing it.

"I… I did." Jill lies weakly. Rebecca sees right through it, however.

"I believe I recommended such a thing to a friend recently."

"Have a good day, Rebecca." Jill returns to the Winters home, far too overcome with humiliation to continue such a conversation.

God help her, what was that man doing?