It's been three days already. Everything was going just fine. Chris had to admit that he was used to the luxury of the hotel and enjoyed it a lot. Although of course the main factor was that he spent a lot of time with Jill.
In the evenings, they examined data about objects, explored all kinds of maps, searched for information in the databases they had. During the day, they went to the places personally, trying to figure out whether the object is suitable or not.
Their days were very eventful, and at some point Chris stopped feeling that anything had changed in their life at all. They were doing the usual things, so familiar. It felt like they were back in the old days.
Jill was good-natured to him. She laughed a lot, hugged him often, and generally behaved like the old Jill. It seemed to him that everything was going the right way, a little more, and she herself would feel it. Their conversations never boiled down to Wesker and her past after the fall. It was as if these events had never happened in their lives. Of course, Chris couldn't say that she began to forget him, but she behaved so easily and carefree. It wasn't at all like a person who has lost or was about to losing someone dear. Jill was so happy. Chris believed that she finally felt free and reveled in this feeling. He, in turn, did everything in his power to make the adaptation process as comfortable and painless as possible for her.
It was two o'clock in the morning. Jill woke up and couldn't bring herself to go back to sleep for a long time. She hated sleeping alone. Although real-life horrors rarely haunted her dreams, from time to time she had a single recurring nightmare. She was falling down alone, from an incredible height, realizing that she was about to crash. An icy wind was beating against her face and whistling in her ears. She was gripping by a panic terror that was almost impossible to overcome. The fear was so intense that it seemed to Jill that her heart would stop right now, even before her body touched the ground.
Every time this dream overtook her, she instinctively grabbed on to Wesker lying next to her, clung to him with her hands as if it were her only hope. And each time he comforted her with gentle strokes and a quiet, soothing voice. It worked. Holding him in her arms, she felt that she had nothing to be afraid of, the fear receded and, pressing tightly to him, she fell asleep again.
It was very rare for her to spend the night alone. Even when they weren't working together, they came to the same place in the evening. Even if it was rather late, Jill always tried to wait for him. But when she had to sleep alone, the nightmare at some point, feeling impunity, crept up on her again, bringing her almost to a state of hysteria. She was dying over and over again, and it felt so real.
This was simply useless to fight this nightmare, it defeated her again and again, and Jill really suffered. At some point, left alone for a few days, she realized that she couldn't cope alone. She was afraid to sleep, forced insomnia exhausted her. So she called him, at three o'clock in the morning, sobbing with powerlessness and horror, which was completely uncharacteristic for her. She didn't know if she had woken him up or if he didn't sleep, but his voice didn't sound like he had just been lifted out of bed. Wesker was too far away to come, so he talked to her on the phone for two hours, and she just lay there and listened to him. It wasn't the same as touching him, and yet at some point Jill began to feel that the darkness of the abyss into which she was falling was receding, unable to overcome him. After that, she called him every time so that he would drive away her fears and anxieties, letting the calm, velvety voice save her again and again. Sooner or later she fell asleep in a sound, healthy sleep.
She couldn't call him now, so after putting on a tracksuit, Jill left her room and then their suite and walked to the balcony on their floor. Approaching the railing, she looked at the opening view of the night city. Incredibly beautiful.
It was a bit frosty, and Jill hugged herself, regretting that she hadn't put on an extra jacket or coat, but she didn't want to go back to the room for warm clothes. She took a deep breath of the cold air. It was refreshing.
Jill couldn't help but think about what was happening in her life now. Everything was going much better than she could even imagine. She felt good and calm with Chris. A pleasant return to the past.
There was no awkwardness between them, they always easily found topics for conversation, talked and laughed a lot, worked productively and, somewhere in the depths of her soul, Jill felt that she didn't want it all to end.
Now that she knew more, she involuntarily thought about Chris in a different way, from a different angle. Potential perspectives that both of them had never thought about, or at least hadn't discussed before. She no longer remembered the lines from his letters to her, it seemed to her that she was drawing new pictures, taking them out of the depths of her subconscious.
They are in his small apartment, lying on his little bed. His clothes around, the smell of tobacco and beer. And, of course, she would scold him for it, and he would grumble and tickle her cheek with his stubble. They would argue about some nonsense, and then she would challenge him who would do push-ups more times. She knew that for some unknown reason he lost the ability to do push-ups when he was at least a little drunk. Every time he fell to the floor in a funny way, losing his balance, and then she made fun of him for another week. Of course, she would win and make him buy her a big burger. And he, for sure, wouldn't mind losing at all actually, perhaps pretending that he is not able to stay in the right position. He would like how after a defeat, he would have the opportunity to sulk, and she would comfort him by offering consolation prizes, which, in fact, would be a much greater reward for him.
For sure, she would take him to an art gallery, and he would grumble and resent, yawning from boredom. From time to time he would point his fingers at the paintings and say that he had seen something similar in one of Umbrella's mansions, and maybe it was some kind of mystery that they could try to solve. She would laugh and push him in the side, and the guards would shush at them.
They would be as good and simple as before. He would sometimes get angry at her, and even be rude, and she would snap and beat him painfully on his arms and chest so that he would stop being like that. He would freak out, and after a couple of hours he would come asking her for forgiveness. She would forgive. Every time. She would forgive knowing that he didn't mean it. And they would spend the rest of the day in each other's arms, apologizing, remembering the best things that was in their life, and thanking for the warmth given. Everything would be so simple, so natural, so predictable and unambiguous.
Of course these thoughts was leading her to another person. Wesker. Now, at a distance, he seemed to her even colder and more unapproachable than when they were near. Wesker was too complex, multifaceted, unpredictable and too incomprehensible. A constant challenge for her. A lock, different all the time, which she had to open over and over again. He never was and couldn't be an ordinary person, both by nature and because he has been through too much.
Chris always exuded simplicity and warmth. Even if they were never together, she always felt his love, devotion and affection. It was as if he was hugging her, holding her in his warm and reliable hands and protecting her from all troubles and misfortunes. Nice, open, sincere, good-natured, fair Chris. A big and shaggy puppy in whose fur you could bury yourself and forget about all the disasters of this world for a while.
Wesker was different. If he was a guardian angel then only with sharp steel wings. This man was broken. When Spencer threw him into the abyss and he hit the rocks, each of his bones was crushed. And then they were mending again, slow and painfully, not always the way it should have been. And all this lasted from the very childhood. He was doomed from the start, with no right to choose, no chance of escape.
It's not surprising that he was like this, that he could never completely trust anyone, that he couldn't look at the world the same way as other people, even if he tried.
Behind the immaculate facade were hiding ugly scars and still bleeding, gaping wounds. And Jill was no longer sure that it was ever possible to fix it. That she could fix it. At first she believed it was possible. But years later she clearly realized that this man would remain unchanged, no matter what she did, no matter how much warmth and love she gave him.
Wesker was a black hole, absorbing any light that happened to be nearby, soaking it and turning into permanent darkness. It drew, lured, forced to try to give more, but Jill began to fear that she would waste all the light that was in her, but only disappear herself. A black hole doesn't give off heat, it's just not capable of it.
Albert Wesker saved her from the darkness of the abyss into which she fell, but the irony was that he himself was an abyss. And Jill knew that she would just keep falling into that blackness until she smashed to pieces.
It would be untrue to deny that she loved him. There was no lie or guile in it. And she would be insincere if she said that despite all the contradictions, she wasn't really happy with him. He knew exactly how to make her happy. The time she spent with Wesker was the most amazing and desirable in her life. She has changed a lot around him, especially lately. It wasn't so much changes in character or behavior, it was just that she felt herself differently. As if she got rid of the shackles. Jill was happier than she had ever been before. She felt absolutely at ease, harmonious, free and natural next to him.
Without knowing everything, one from the outside would think that it was a perfect marriage, that they were just the perfect couple with the perfect relationship. Here, respect, tenderness, care, passion, trust, common interests, a similar sense of humor and any other components of healthy relationships that bring only the best out of people were mixed in ideal proportions. So it was for her. That's how she felt with him on her side. But she also understood that feelings are not everything. There is something more than just the feeling of absolute happiness. Something deeper and more important.
Jill knew she wanted to go back to the past. At least for a little while. And right now she had such a chance, a chance for a normal life. In Chris's face she again saw that life where everything was much simpler, more unambiguous. Where the heroes returned home with a victory. Where there was such a familiar smell of gunpowder, where morality prevailed, where everything was divided into black and white.
She was tired of the constant gray area she and Wesker had been in all this time. She hadn't felt it before, but now that Chris was back in her life, this more colorful world suddenly began to seem so alluring and attractive to her. So familiar…
Jill wanted, at least for a while, to escape from the magnificent museum, which gave true pleasure and exalted, but where one could only look from the side. She didn't follow the rules, she went behind the ropes and used what was strictly forbidden to even touch. Jill was allowed to do that. But every time it made her feel like an interloper, a criminal who had encroached on the sacred, without gloves touching a thoroughly and carefully guarded masterpiece. She literally needed to break into a seedy pub, being in which could destroy you, but the order here was mundane to the banal. Cigarette smoke could stifle, alcohol could burn mucous membranes, an awkwardly dropped phrase could lead to a brawl. Worn chairs and dirt in the corners highlighted the imperfection of this world. But here everything was on the surface. It was a plain world, without a false bottom, without a centuries-old history, without secrets and intractable riddles, to which no one could find answers.
She felt her frozen arms was wrapped around by someone's warm and strong. She was cold and gladly accepted the warmth that was given to her, absorbed it, drowned in it. He will be always associated for her with warmth. With life. Even if he didn't take a step towards her, if he watched her from the side, he was always her source of light, to which she could not only give, but also receive in return, replenish her own energy.
Jill tilted her head back, resting it on Chris's shoulder, their heads was touching. Her mouth parted slightly, and she allowed herself to relax in his arms, getting lost in the sensations.
He relaxed too, enjoying her hardly less. Chris rubbed his head lightly against hers, leaned a little more, his hot breath on her cheek. Jill felt his lips, warm and chapped from dryness, touch her neck, kissing and scratching a little at the same time. She exhaled. She didn't want to resist it, on the contrary, she was ready to allow herself to dissolve into him.
"I've thought a lot about all this. About us. About what I didn't do. We could start over. Would just run away. Together. Just you and me. I would leave the BSAA, to hell. No one would ever knew you were alive. Not a single soul would bother us, and we would be able to start all over again. Would allow ourselves to be someone we've never been. We would live somewhere near the ocean… We'd be happy, Jill. We would finally be happy."
He pressed his cheek against hers, speaking a little hoarsely, softly and tenderly. His hands moved to her waist, pressing her close to him. She put her hands on his, enjoying the heat radiating from him.
"Is that even possible?" asked Jill in a barely audible voice.
"Who can stop us? Only if we ourselves… As we have done so many times before."
It was wrong, dishonestly. She felt like a traitor, a deceiver, but she wanted this. A simple family happiness with a loved one whom she had known for many years, whose soul was an open book for her, who was always there. Not to think about anything. To read on the Internet how others are fighting crime and grumble giving advice from a distance. To find something they would like to do. To enjoy life. Just to be close to each other.
"We've been running too long, Jill. And now I know that I was unfair when I talked about returning things to the way they were before. This is no longer possible. You're different. But I'm already different too. And I like it. I like the new us. We deserve a rest, we deserve it."
He fell silent and they stood embracing for some time.
She suddenly felt Chris lean closer to her again, felt his warm breath right next to her ear.
"Jill, I..."
She was almost certain that he would tell her that he loved her. No, he shouldn't have done that, it would change everything. She shook her head slightly and began to gently free herself from his hands.
"It's late, Chris, I'm going to bed."
He said nothing, releasing her. Jill turned around when she reached the door leading to the hallway. Chris didn't look after her, he leaned on the railing and stood with his head down.
Jill couldn't sleep that night, didn't even try. She stood in front of the mirror for a long time in the semi-darkness, looking at her pale reflection and rubbing the ointment that Wesker had given her into the area of her wrists, which looked better and better every day.