Notes:
English is not my native language and it is a little difficult for me, so I apologize for any mistakes.
It was exactly the same morning for Chris Redfield as any other when he was not on a mission. His private office, a lot of coffee, documents that required his attention and a deafening emptiness inside. He was slowly looking through the files on the computer that his colleagues had sent him to his e-mail: reports, information, notes, assumptions. Ridiculous. To continue doing everything he was doing seemed ridiculous to him, however, it was the only thing left for him.
It was the end of April, but the sky outside the window was overcast for the second day. The rain and the gray world around perfectly reflected what was going on in Chris's soul. He lived by inertia, pretended that he was continuing some kind of struggle, with someone, with something.
He was offered to join the Special Operations Unit in the role of captain – he refused. How could he lead people after what happened? No, he continued to work as a Special Operations Agent, but now he tried to work alone whenever possible, to carry out complex missions that required the maximum invisibility of the BSAA presence. Chris didn't think that alone, without Jill by his side, he was well suited for this role, he didn't know how to work as gracefully as the same Leon S. Kennedy, and in the end any of his tasks ended in noise, but this didn't bother anyone, because at the end the bad guys were punished, and the good ones celebrated victory. Chris wasn't celebrating. For more than five years he had been in a depression from which he couldn't get out: work and his sister were the only things that kept him from falling to the very bottom, but it didn't help him to finally get out. He often drank, but always knew how to stop in time so as not to become an alcoholic. Still, there was something else that gave him strength and helped him get out of bed in the morning - hope.
He knew he would always remember September 1, 2006. He will always remember her face and his evil smirk. Chris's heart will always be scarred by broken glass. His own scream, drowning out the thunder and the downpour will always stand in his ears. She left so suddenly, so unfairly, having experienced so many incredible catastrophes and eventually being broken by the one who started it all for them. He completed his mission by destroying the most beautiful thing in Chris Redfield's life. She left like a heroine, saving her partner. It burned everything inside Chris, guilt drove him to madness. How did he let this happen? Why did make so many mistakes and let this tragedy happen? Over and over again he replayed these frames in his head, sorting them out bit by bit, trying to figure it out as if it could help, as if he could turn back the clock.
Back then, five years ago, he made a firm decision: he would not give up hope and would try to find Jill until he found her alive or dead. He couldn't be satisfied with the three-month search and the gravestone in the memorial cemetery, that didn't even have her body underneath. No. He refused to believe that she was dead and this denial fueled him with energy, especially at first.
Although the official search and investigation were closed and all reports were transferred to the archive, Chris continued to cling to any clue, to grasp at any even the most insignificant information. And there were many of them. Jill Valentine was loved and respected, so all the agents tried to get at least something, acting unofficially.
From time to time, Chris received information that Jill had been seen here and there. Every time he came and every time he didn't find a single trace. At first, he felt only more frenzy, with more energy he set off on the next trail, as if he had only a few attempts, and one of them should have been successful. The more defeats– the closer he is to victory. But all the clues turned out to be nothing, and Chris instead of a surge of strength began to feel despair. Then it turned into a routine, a habit. He just drove, just looked, just got disappointed again and drove back.
Failures ceased to be a blow, they were a pattern that you expect, and which no longer surprises. This made Chris only worse for himself, driving himself deeper into depression. He should have accepted it a long time ago, mourned Jill and moved on, instead he continued to live in denial, actually realizing that she was no longer there, but refusing to accept this and each time receiving blow after blow, not so strong and painful, but still tangible. Chris himself didn't know how long he had planned to kicking this dead horse, but he just couldn't stop, not now that he had come this far. It was a vicious circle from which there was no way to escape.
The superiors was turning a blind eye to Chris' actions. In the beginning he often took a vacation at his own expense and went on a search spending his money. He had a good salary, which he simply had nothing to spend on. The sister had found her own work a long time ago and no longer needed her brother's help, he had no other family, he didn't need expensive things, he was almost never at home and didn't need a house or a large expensive apartment. He went on missions so often that he didn't want to go on vacation, and he didn't want to take a vacation, because as soon as he was stop working, thoughts filled his entire being.
Ultimately, his trips began to be formalized as official missions, which was the best decision for the leadership. One of their most valuable agents didn't have to take a break, and his leads often turned out to be related to the actions of bioterrorists, so in the end Chris was doing his job, although he didn't find what he was looking for. Sometimes he came empty-handed, but this also happened when processing other information unrelated to Jill, so it was quite acceptable. In addition, at some point the superiors realized that it was even beneficial for them to have such an immortal legend. Jill Valentine, neither alive nor dead, a symbol of eternal faith and struggle.
Her name became a household name, they fought in her name, she was a guiding star, a hope for the best, an example to follow. BSAA agents wasn't dying, they were remaining alive even after the official death and continued to carry the banner of victories. Jill was loved by her colleagues, she was a bright, positive person, kind and open, attentive to others. She left as a heroine, disappeared while fighting one of the greatest criminals, sacrificed herself to save her comrade-in-arms. It was a beautiful legend. If everyone had accepted her death, sooner or later her name would fade away, but now it shone with a bright light. Every time on her birthday, the anniversary of her death and Valentine's Day, she was remembered and they talked about her almost as she was a saint. Fighters left and came, replaced each other at the post, but even those who had never met Jill Valentine knew about her, not only her name, but also her whole story, which the oldest were happy to retell to newcomers.
This was one of the reasons why Chris Redfield continued to be allowed unspoken search, he was a fireproof match, incessantly setting fire to the altar of the shrine created by BSAA. Chris often heard whispers behind his back 'this is him, he, he was Jill Valentine's partner and friend. He doesn't believe in her death, and that means something, Chris always knows more than others, he was there, which means he probably has some information.' They only smiled when face to face him and looked sympathetically, trying to cheer him up somehow. How in such conditions could you let go of the past and start living on, how could you work through grief? Not that he wanted to. So it was spinning in a circle. Eternal mourning for the one who didn't die, eternal search for the one who died.
Chris is tired. He didn't sleep much and trained a lot. His eyes were red and sore, his body was in constant tension, his face was haggard, his hair and clothes were often in disarray. He had often letting himself being a mess in past, but he had Jill, who sweared at him and forced him to clean himself up. Now she was gone. Claire couldn't reach him, and she didn't have many opportunities to do it, they both had a lot of work and little free time even to just see each other.
Rubbing his face and taking a sip of coffee, Chris lazily opened file after file. It was an internal email, an internal network, encrypted communication, so nothing superfluous couldn't got here, however, apparently, and especially valuable. Chris sighed heavily and reached for the mug again, noticing with displeasure that it was empty.
"Damn it." He glanced at the coffee maker and decided that he wanted to go for coffee less than drink it, pushed the mug aside.
Chris often helped young agents to get used, had tremendous work experience and knowledge, and, moreover, was one of the founders of the BSAA, whose opinion was considered in case of the need to make important decisions, so many people wrote to him and many addresses were unfamiliar to Chris. This didn't particularly bother him, the letter itself gave a clear idea of who it was from, since all internal letters to the BSAA, even those of a more or less personal, were drawed according to the same standard.
That is why the next open message that just came to his address attracted Chris's especially close attention.: it wasn't written like everyone else. Chris immediately straightened up and without starting to read take the phone. Quickly dialing the network security department, Chris said that he needed to check the letter he had just received. After answering a couple of standard questions, he turned off the phone and looked at the monitor screen.
"Mr. Redfield, I hasten to inform you that you can find the woman you have been looking for for many years in Interlaken, Switzerland. Hurry up while you still have the opportunity to catch her. Good luck."
There was no signature in the letter and Chris looked at the sender's mail name – just a set of numbers. Chris hastily tried to find possible options for decoding the meaning of these numbers, but he couldn't find any obvious solution.
This wasn't the first such message, but it was rare that they came to an internal, secure mail. He often received anonymous calls, SMS or regular paper letters. Only a couple of times the messages came the same way as this. The first time the sender was found out, it turned out to be one of the negligent newcomers who heard some rumor, but for some reason didn't dare to tell Chris about it personally. He truly believed that no one would know that it was he who sent this message. The second sender was never found and Chris decided that it was either someone from the superiors or from the network security department. Both options were very likely, but Chris was still inclined to the first option, since the trail eventually led him to a secret organization that they had been tracking for many years, but against which it was not recommended to oppose for political reasons.
Chris read the letter again, a couple of times to himself and once aloud. For some reason it reminded him of the message left by madmen in horror movies, and this caused irritation. Some kind of another stupid, completely unfunny joke or an attempt to manipulate him. He felt that someone were playing on his feelings, just everyone was doing it. It made him angry. But even if he was sure he was being fooled, he just couldn't ignore even a single message about her.
After a couple of hours it turned out that no information about the letter or its sender could be obtained. He was only informed that the letter didn't come from the internal network, and that a real professional hacker was working whose abilities were impressive. Chris noted to himself that this hacker's abilities were better than those with whom he talked.
An hour later, Chris was already having a conversation with his superiors. It took time to arrange a business trip, so the flight was scheduled for the next day. Chris will go to Switzerland alone as a tourist and try to find out everything he can.
Arriving home, he didn't feel much excitement or trepidation. He was already tired of giving himself hope and then feeling bitter disappointment. Chris decided to treat it as a little vacation. It was with such thoughts that he plunged into a short and not at all relaxing sleep.