"He was running recon. Alone."

Chris could practically hear how the young man rolled his eyes as he spoke, devaluing the fallen team member and his insubordination to zero against the leftover soldiers. No wonder. Piers Nivans had been following his orders like a faithful and helpless puppy ever since he'd been recruited by the B.S.A.A. and he knew better than anyone that orders were issued to be followed. He probably had some pretty sick daddy issues and saw such an insanely big father figure in his Captain that he did exactly what he said. Not once had he disobeyed one of his orders and Chris was positive that young Nivans would throw himself out of the closest window if he just asked him to.

Quite a hilarious thought given the fact that Jill had once done the very same. Not that he'd asked her to jump, of course. She had done that all by herself.

The freezing cold burnt his nostrils and down into his lungs every time he tried to breathe. The shitty weather was one of the most significant reasons why Edonia was the last destination he'd like to have chosen for his Christmas holidays, right after the Civil War with included bioweapons and the disgusting food, probably. Those Eastern Europeans were simply not capable of making a good steak and they even praised their mashed vegetables like it was haute cuisine.

The snow had stopped falling some time ago, but a thick layer of white still covered the landscape and made the tactical preparation an impossible task. Those who wanted to play superheroes and ran into their missions like bulldozers on LSD to the sound of their own war cries were no help to the team for obvious reasons. Unfortunately, they were usually the first ones to become B.O.W. food. Like Tinman, whose lifeless body was carried away from the frightened looks of the rest of the soldiers, leaving them questioning their choice to join the B.S.A.A. Chris sighed out a nebula of condensation as he looked around the remaining team members. It was time to give them some hope, it seemed.

"Listen up!" Fuck! He would sell his sister to get back to being a S.O.A., only responsible for oneself. "In the B.S.A.A., our job is to rid the world of bioterrorism and the only way we're gonna do that is by sticking together."

It was the only option they had to avoid any further suicide attempts.

"Nobody's expendable." Chris looked up in surprise. Had he just said that? The heads of the men in front of him turned slightly to the right. Okay, it had been Piers who had completed his sentence.

"Exactly," Chris added, swallowing down the tired tone in his voice, "Now each and every one of you may be ready to die for our cause, but my job is to make sure we all get through this alive."

How did Wesker withstand being Captain of a troupe as lame as S.T.A.R.S.? Though, to be fair, the S.T.A.R.S. teams had been so much funnier, back when bioterrorism wasn't even a thing to the modern world. There had been Speyer and his unexhausted persistence to get into Jill's pants, Barry making fun of Wesker behind his back, and, of course, Jill Valentine, with that irresistible sway of her hips and the cute way her nose wrinkled when something upset her. Yep, he'd had a great time with S.T.A.R.S.—until that bioterrorism shit had been unleashed.

A whimper drew his attention to the right. The newbie, a kid of about twenty with a big nose and narrow piggie eyes, couldn't stand the field-typical tension, apparently. Chris' teeth gnashed together in agitation. One day, you were bringing down Albert Wesker, the most dangerous terrorist on the planet, and the following day, you needed to talk young men into fighting next to you. He had been able to stop Claire from joining the B.S.A.A—with restricted success, as she had become a TerraSave operative instead and was often closer to danger zones than he himself—but he couldn't tell those kids to go back home. Considering what was the best thing to say to such a young creature, he eventually ran out of feigned positivism and started mouthing silent curses.

He just wished they would all shut up and let him do the fucking job alone.

"Suck it up, Finn!"

That had been Piers again. Chris released his breath as he watched him take care of the young man and his whining. Good puppy. The Captain suddenly remembered why he had made young Nivans his second-in-command. Maybe he would like to have his job once he retired.

Retirement. That sounded even better than S.O.A.

Finn apologized for his weakness and nodded at Chris, who returned the gesture.

"No one gets left behind. Not on my watch."

A snowflake fell curlily down to the floor and landed on the tip of his boot. It would soon start to snow again.

Hopefully, the snow would bring the needed change this time.

"Alright, yeah. I get it."

Jill's eyelids grew heavy under the throbbing pain in her temple. She couldn't recall how long she had been working before the fateful call had interrupted her musings. She'd expected bad news about Edonia, that was true, but this?

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it. We'll be there as soon as possible." She hung up and massaged her front with weary, circular moves, trying to rub the ache away.

They had always known something bad would happen, hadn't they? They had been defying evil for almost fifteen years and, despite the occasional, casual misstep such as the Spencer Estate, they had been victorious most of the time. Perhaps some greater force believed they had run around unharmed for too long. It was a pity that everything had to end like this.

The phone dangled weakly between her sweaty fingertips as she scrolled through the contact list. As usual, it was up to her to fix the desperate situation someone else had gotten himself into. Her eyes jumped briefly to the clock on the office wall, wondering how much of a bad idea it was to make a phone call at 3 am given the bad temper of the one whose sleep she was bound to disturb. Searching for the right words to say, Jill dialed the number and pressed the phone to her ear.

One, two, three tones later, someone on the other end picked up.

"Wha?"

"Claire, it's Jill."

Something squeaked, cloth was ripped away, and Jill knew the younger Redfield was practically standing on the mattress.

"What happened?"

Jill sighed, her voice trembling under the responsibility.

"Chris' team got attacked and-"

"Is he dead?" Jill had to swallow as she was confronted with the sudden question her friend interrupted her tale with.

There was hope in Claire's shaking words, but if it was hope that the answer was negative or that her constant suffering and concern about her brother would finally come to an end was unclear. The blonde sighed.

"No," she whispered and heard Claire release her breath, "He hit his head and is in a coma."

A grunt rattled through the line as the redhead cleared her throat.

"Coma? Holy shit, Chris! Can't they leave you alone for one fucking minute?"

Jill prayed that the hint of sadness in Claire's eager swearing wasn't a product of her own imagination. What had happened to the once so close bond the Redfield siblings had forged over the years after their parents' passing?

"Claire, we should fly to Edonia."

Dark laughter followed a silent cry.

"Edonia? Of all the places in the world, he chose to get ground to shit in Edonia?" The short, shallow breaths she took didn't concede her enough air to speak fluently. "You need me to sign papers, I assume."

In case he died, yes; or in case they believed he'd never wake up.

"Yes."

Claire sighed.

"You know? He wasn't there when I came back from Sushestvovanie last year."

The sting of anger, once pointed directly at her brother, was now turned toward Jill, and the blonde simply couldn't blame her. There were things that Chris had been more protective about when he'd been younger.

"He was busy, but Barry was giving him an update every hour."

Claire sighed in response.

"And now you want me to leave everything behind on Christmas Eve and fly to the other fucking side of the planet to bury my brother? I'm not even sure if he'd want me to be there."

Jill drew small circles onto a paper as she let Claire shoot her rage at her. "Don't say that. Chris loves you."

The circles became bigger and more irregular as she pressed out the half-hearted persuasion attempt. Jill wouldn't doubt the feelings Chris harbored for his little sister, and it wasn't as disastrous as the redhead was painting it, but their relationship had indeed lost a lot of their closeness over the years. The soft laugh Claire gave in response soon melted into the whimper of a tear-flooded cry.

"When are we leaving?"

The insistent flicker of the halogen lamp in that hospital hallway was driving him nuts. As if the whole situation itself hadn't been depressing enough, they had put his Captain with his head injury and all those breathing tubes into the last room of a sad, grey corridor on the underground floor. At least there he was safe from the stinging smell of piss, vomit and blood that reigned in what supposedly was the emergency room.

They had left him alone with this mess. Alone and in charge of everything. Once he had gotten Chris out of the reach of the stone B.O.W.S., their teammates had turned into that City Hall in Edonia. The sad rest of Alpha team had been released from the mission and he and Chris had been sent to the closest hospital, where half of the staff there had treated Chris' severe injuries despite being busy with other survivors of their ongoing civil war. He had been lucky, they said; he could have died, but none of the good words were particularly soothing as nobody could guarantee that he was actually going to make it.

Piers put his face into his palms and sighed. He had been trained for any possible outcome on the field, but the feeling of helplessness that was slowly crawling up his body made him wonder if he was really ready for the role he was bound to play. He had gotten Chris out, checked all necessary documentation, brought his Captain to the hospital, and notified homebase. He had done everything he needed to do and, instead of the usual pat on the shoulder, he was only rewarded with more burdens to carry.

It wasn't until he had spoken to Jill Valentine that he had really felt supported. People said she was resolute, quick and precise in everything she did, willing to do all in her power to complete a job, but they had been wrong. Jill Valentine was much more than that; she was the worn-out angel the BSAA needed amongst their rows, the savior who entered when everything seemed hopeless, and the mother figure that completed Chris' fatherly role as Captain. Piers genuinely felt much safer now that Valentine had promised to come. He checked his watch to confirm that the wait was nearly over and that Jill Valentine would soon take care of everything.

He turned his head at the approaching sound of heels dashing emphatically over the hospital floor and spotted two female figures. One was Jill and the other, unsurprisingly, was Chris' sister. Hands on his knees, Piers hefted his weight up and forced himself onto his feet to greet the two women, his energy clearly drawn from his wasted body. Jill was the first to speak.

"Piers, it's so good to see you. Are you injured?" She asked, pointing at the bandage that peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt.

The young man shyly rubbed his neck and shook his head.

"It's just a scratch," he responded, "I didn't even notice I had gotten it until I was out."

Turning his attention to Claire and the dark look in her eyes, he needed to swallow hard before greeting the redhead. "Claire, I… I'm so sorry."

He had met the younger Redfield some months before when Terra Save had visited their unit because of a collaboration and his comrades hadn't stopped bringing up their Captain's beautiful sister in their obscene daily talks ever since. It hadn't taken him long to see her worried self behind the feigned delight and forced smiles back then, but now she wasn't even trying to hide her concern. The shadows restless nights had printed onto the skin under her eyes could be seen from outer space and she sighed deeply before she even began to speak. However, a weak smile preceded the very first attempt.

"Don't be. You did everything you could. Jill said you were the one who took him out. Thank you." With one hand on his shoulder, she squeezed more discomfort into his body, putting him at alert before turning her head to the door beside them. "How is he?"

He began to shake his head until everything around him seemed to turn. Chris had been stabilized, but hadn't woken up yet, leaving doctors, nurses and himself facing the question of 'what now?' So far, nobody could tell when he would wake up again or if he'd ever wake up again.

"He should have woken up already."

Claire's face distorted into a painful grimace as she tried to smile, the hand on his shoulder tightening the grasp under the cruelty of the circumstances.

"Can we see him?" She spoke in a plea full of hope, receiving a nod in exchange.

"Yes, sure." Piers muttered. "We can only enter one at a time, though, they said. Something about too much stimulation being harmful."

Jill sighed behind them.

"Claire, why don't you go first?" She suggested and pushed the pitiful patient's sister towards the door. "I'll stay here with Piers."

Once Claire had disappeared into the room, Jill turned back to the handful of misery the young lieutenant was. He had taken a seat again and little more than hung on the chair with his head so low it nearly brushed his knees.

"Hey, Piers."

Turning his head up in a weary move, Piers forced a smile and sighed deeply.

"Agent Valentine."

That name tickled her lips, causing them to softly widen into a smirk.

"I'm not here as BSAA employee, Piers, but as his friend. Call me Jill."

Rewarding her with a grateful nod, Piers waited until the blonde dropped into the chair next to his. Elbows on his knees, he propped up his chin in a way it made him look so innocent and helpless that Jill felt pity for the young man. He was just a kid. Sure, he was a couple years older than she herself had been when she'd run into the mansion in the Arklay mountains, but had she ever really been alone since then? No. Even after losing their Captain and being technically headless, S.T.A.R.S. had always been a team watching over each other. Chris, Rebecca, Barry and herself had never lost contact and were always there when the others needed assistance or simply an ear to listen. Piers, however, hadn't just only lost his teammates, but was also now responsible for Alpha team or whatever was left of it. Jill reached for the young man's shoulder and patted it in the most manly way she could manage—like she imagined Chris would do it.

"You did well out there," she whispered, "Hadn't it been for you, he would be dead now."

The young man just sighed repeatedly, sometimes letting his tongue dart out in an attempt to moisten his dry lips between breaths.

"He's as good as dead." His hands balled into fists under his chin. "Had we been more attentive, that woman wouldn't have even gotten that far…"

Jill's eyes narrowed at his words. She hadn't asked many questions about what exactly had happened, expecting that she'd be informed soon enough. Every piece of intel was new to her.

"What woman?"

Claire wondered how many tubes could possibly be inserted into one man as she traced their path from the beeping machines to her brother's form. It wasn't the first time she had visited someone in the hospital, of course—just a few months before, she had been with Leon when he'd returned from ESR, kicking around like a crybaby because he didn't want to carry his several broken ribs to rehab, but it had never been her brother, and it had never been that bad. She grabbed his hand, flicking her thumb over the cannula that perforated his skin in search for a vein.

"You fucking idiot," she hissed, holding back tears, "You never forgave me for fucking up your New Year's Eve in 1998, did you? Do you have to ruin Christmas for me every single year?" A quiet sob released itself from her shaking lips. "You better wake up, you hear me? You better wake up or I'll make sure that you're buried next to Brad Vickers."

That was, technically, impossible, as Vickers' zombified body had been blasted to mousse along with the rest of Raccoon City's 1998 population. But there was, indeed, some sort of tombstone for every one of the fallen S.T.A.R.S. members, including Vickers, on the private B.S.A.A. graveyard.

Claire checked her phone for new messages, disappointed by the emptiness of her home screen.

"You know…Sherry's missing. The F.O.S. notified me that she was in Edonia escorting someone and…now they lost contact with her." She sighed, pulling out a piece of nicotine gum. "Bad time for me to quit smoking, I guess. Hunnigan's a sweetheart. I don't know how she handles all the government shit and still finds time to text me. I assume Leon told her to keep me informed. Sure, he himself doesn't have time for this…personal stuff."

Chewing in silence, Claire leaned back in the chair and watched her brother for a while. When had everything gotten so weird between them? They had been inseparable after their parents' death and, for so long, it had been just Chris and her. But, over the years, she had slowly been replaced by his work, by Jill, by the B.S.A.A.—which he had forbidden her to join—and, eventually, by boys like Piers Nivans who called Jill instead of her to break the news about Chris' state. Everything had started after Jill's tragic accident, she remembered, when Chris had tried to drink himself to death in shady bars on a nightly basis. He had pushed her away after she'd thrown out some hooker whose thighs she'd found her brother between one morning and their relationship had never been the same after that—not even after Jill's return. After all the insults and accusations he'd fought his sister off with, she had promised to herself to never intervene again. She hadn't, but she was always close in case he'd call her.

"I love you, Chris." Her voice was weak and low as she spoke, taking his hand into hers and pressing their palms together. "And I miss my big brother. Please get well. I need you."

She sat there for a while, wiping off the occasional tear that fought its way out, until Chris' hand squeezed hers back.

"A woman showed up out of nowhere and Chris had you escort her?" Jill hissed in disbelief at the story Piers told her. "Goddamnit, hasn't he learned anything in all these years?"

"He told me to keep an eye on her, Jill. He knew she wasn't someone worthy of his trust, but he couldn't risk being wrong and getting an innocent soul killed." Piers' head dropped lower. "We lost four innocent soldiers instead. If only I had been more vigilant…"

Jill clenched her teeth in anger. Some bitch was running around Edonia, throwing needle bombs at B.S.A.A. soldiers and god knows who else. However, it could have been much worse than it was. Chris and Piers could have gotten infected, turned, and killed as well, and they would have had no clue who was behind the attack. Now, with Piers' testimony, they had a chance at locating the culprit.

Jill inhaled deeply. Piers Nivans had always been known for his ice-cold professionalism among the B.S.A.A. rows—proven by his quick rise to Chris' second-in-command after only one year in the organization—but he was blaming himself for their failure now. It was one of Chris' character traits that she recognized in the young soldier.

"Don't torture yourself, Piers. We can't always win."

She had expected to find sadness and disappointment on his face, but the surprise was enormous. Piers Nivans didn't suffer nor cry. The eyes she met when he looked up were full of hatred and anger, a promise to become better and find the culprit of this chaos. She saw the determination in his look and couldn't help but admire him for it. Piers Nivans was not only a talented sniper, but he was also a resolute soldier who could handle any situation with cool-headed brilliancy, and Jill felt she had been too quick in offering him her pity.

"We are lucky to have you on our side, Nivans."

His eyebrow shot up in confusion. On their side? Whose side would he be on if not theirs? The B.S.A.A. meant everything to him, as his recruitment had saved him from constantly hitting a wall in the Army's Special Forces. However, he didn't want to argue with one of the founding members over being given such a huge compliment. With a shy smirk on his lips, he simply replied with a grateful nod and accepted Jill's positive judgement of his actions and presence in the B.S.A.A., but the blonde's encouraging words and demeanor soon turned into a dark shade of concern.

"Do you remember what that woman looked like? We should probably create a profile to know who we're after and begin the hunt for her."

A grim headshake followed as Piers clenched his teeth.

"No need to, Jill. He said, kneading his fist. "The name of the woman who attacked us is Ada Wong."

Jill's eyes widened in astonishment and she began to gasp for air, but, before she could react, an alarm rang loudly through the corridor and the door to Chris' room was pulled open. Claire's ponytail swung excitedly as the redhead yelled for a nurse to come and Jill and Piers were on their feet as fast as a lighting bolt could possibly hit.

"He's waking up!" Claire shouted, searching for the medical staff she had called. "He's convulsing and trying to pull the tubes out!"

Luckily, only seconds later a couple of nurses came running into the room, pushing Claire back as she tried to get inside with them. Jill took her by the wrist and held her close to herself. Claire, although unable to ever admit it, was as hotheaded and impulsive as Chris himself and she would have loved to help, even though she knew that she'd only be in the way. The blonde observed tiny sweat drops on Claire's forehead and knew just how anxious she really was, but it wasn't until they heard Chris scream on the other side of the door that Claire stopped struggling. Paralyzed and breathless, she stared at the door in shock.

"What is happening to him?" She shivered under Jill's touch and the blonde turned back to Piers, whose eyes showed as much fear as Claire's.

"Nivans, take her out."

It was best if they both just left and relaxed. Piers needed to rest as much as Claire did and they couldn't do anything for Chris anyway.

"No!" Claire emphatically shook her head. "I can't…"

But Jill grabbed both of her shoulders and forced her to look at her.

"Claire, listen. It's okay. I'll stay here, you take a break. You have gone through a lot with Sherry missing. He'll be fine. I'll stay."

Claire was still shaking her head when Piers laid his arm around her shoulders, softly guiding her towards the exit under the warm look of Jill. The blonde pushed her back against the wall next to the door as she heard Chris' screams.

"Who the fuck are you? Where am I? Shit! Let me get out of here! I'm late for work!"

Jill couldn't help but giggle despite the circumstances. Even though he had only been conscious for mere minutes and was likely confused and in pain, Chris still had the job on his mind. It was a pity, she thought, that Chris had ended like this. When they'd met in S.T.A.R.S., he had been full of life, willing to enjoy every moment with his friends and family. Now, she wondered if he even had anyone he considered a friend. Sure, he was respected and appreciated by many because of his kind nature—the men in his team saw him like a big brother—but Jill doubted there were people Chris considered to be close friends. Of course, there was Barry and herself, and he surely loved his sister, but they were all stuck so deep in bioterrorism that their relationship had become toxic.

From further down the corridor, a doctor and a male nurse came running, and the latter took Jill by the shoulder.

"Fameelee off Cquiss Wetfeeld?"

It took her a second to understand that the young man was trying to speak to her in broken English. Sadly ignoring the fact that, at this point in their story, her best chance to become part of Chris' Redfield's family was to marry Claire, Jill nodded.

"As good as that."

The man looked at her in confusion, but soon rewarded her with a smile, waving towards the room door.

"Pleesz helpe."

Helping? Jill followed the nurse into the room, wondering what she could possibly help with, when the image in front of her gave her all the answers she needed. One of the two nurses from before and the doctor were trying to hold Chris down as the other nurse tied his right arm to the bed. He was screaming, yelling words and insults she had thought long forgotten by anyone in the world, and he was so close to punching the nurse that Jill had to admire the girl's bravery. Some men in the military had gotten medals of honor for less dangerous missions. Without hesitating any longer, Jill ran to the opposite side of the bed and grabbed a hold of Chris shaking left leg.

"Chris!" She yelled, trying to catch her old friend's attention. "Chris, listen to me! It's fine. You're in the hospital and these people are here to help you!"

The Alpha team Captain kicked into the air once more before his eyes met Jill's. Two pairs of a different blue stared at each other, bewilderment written into the air between them until the woman managed to smile warmly.

"It'll be okay. You just hit your head."

Chris stopped struggling and the medical team slowly released their hold on him, Jill being the only one who remained in physical contact. She stroked over his shin with soft, caressing movements as the doctor proceeded to check on his patient. Chris held still as his pupils met the intimidating shine of the light and the doctor muttered something in the local slav language that Jill couldn't decipher. The male nurse put his hand onto her shoulder and mouthed a weak thank you as she dropped onto the edge of the bed, her hand still working Chris's leg in a reassuring gesture.

"How awe you feeling, Mistur Wedfeeld?"

Chris just pointed at his head in response, grimacing slightly as he informed the nurse about the pain he still felt. Any other questions they asked him remained unanswered though and Jill just watched how they finished their exploration on her longtime friend.

When they proceeded to leave the room and give Chris some time to rest, Jill stayed, giving him a comforting smile.

"It'll be alright." She whispered. "You'll be fine. Do you remember anything?"

Chris hesitated, eventually shaking his lowered head.

"It's okay," Jill said, smiling wryly even though she herself wasn't convinced by her words.

"Jill." He spoke softly, shaking his head. "What happened?"

The blonde tilted her head.

"You had an accident on a mission." She explained in a soft, caring voice. She decided it was best not to tell Chris right away that his comrades had been killed if he didn't remember it. "You hit your head and were unconscious for two days."

Chris, however, grimaced and shook his head again.

"I mean, what happened to you?" He huffed out a laugh. "You look so pale. Are you okay?"

Before Jill could recall the last time Chris actually inquired about her well-being, she was hit by his next, destroying question. "What have you done to your hair?"

A wide-eyed expression hit him as Jill began to sort her thoughts. Her hair? Did he mean…?

"I mean, that blond looks good on you, but what was wrong with your natural color?"

She felt like the air around her became insufficient to fill her lungs. Checking discreetly if Chris was making fun of her, she soon concluded that he wasn't. He was goddamn seriously ignoring the fact that the platinum-blond was her natural color now.

"Chris, I have been wearing my hair like this for years. Don't you remember?"

No, he didn't. He stared at her astonishedly and huffed out a disbelieving laugh.

"That can't be. Just yesterday…" He paused as Jill's words about him being unconscious for several days came back to him. "Just the other day, Wesker told you to chop it off and it was brown."

That name. They had never spoken about it, but, even though long defeated, their former Captain and archenemy had somehow become unnamable among the survivors of S.T.A.R.S. However, that wasn't what upset her the most about Chris' statement, as she remembered pretty well when Wesker had told her to cut her hair for the last time.

"Chris," she said with a shaking voice, "What day do you think it is?"

Chris' pupils began to dance to the almost audible exercise his brain was doing and Jill didn't expect him to even answer. The bigger surprise came when Chris began to nod eagerly.

"Wednesday must have been the last day I was conscious. You say I was out for two days, so, uhm...Friday, it's Friday." He smiled proudly as he mistook Jill's nod that meant to invite him to continue for a confirmation of his theory. "Friday, July 24th, 1998."

Thanks for reading, my friends. I hope you enjoy this rewrite. A big thank you to Sofistinha for sharing her impressions and to irithyll for checking the chapter and helping out with the medical part (even though I'm mostly ignoring all advice because I'm anxious and because the story needs it LOL)