Mother nature embraced the homey cabin in the woods with her protecting arms, the crystal clear veil of silence amplified by the quiet calm the fresh snow reflected. Here and there the gurgling croak of a brave early bird cut the otherwise quiet sounds of the landscape, making the trees drop handfuls of white when they searched for food within their branches. It was a peaceful Monday morning, both inside and outside the cabin.

The bacon sizzled deliciously in the frying pan, filling the air with its salty perfume, and Jill found herself magically drawn into the kitchen as soon as she came out of the bathroom. She hadn't expected Chris to beat her again in their morning race for breakfast, as she had found the big man sound asleep before she'd stepped into the shower to clean off the remains of another restless night. The happenings of the previous day hadn't let her go, with thoughts and memories long shoved away coming back to her —loud and in color— but it was that one tiny detail, that itch of a moment, that had really stolen all her sleep.

The kiss.

After sixteen years of partnership, including a failed attempt at romance and flirting in the nineties and many hints, looks and questions since the latest turn of the year, Chris had finally gotten what he'd wanted and if she hadn't been confused about her feelings for him before, now she most definitely was. Not even the refreshing shower had helped dissipate the fogginess in her head.

"Good morning!" Chris smiled softly at her as he placed the bacon slices onto a plate before pushing it over to her. "Coffee?"

Jill hesitated. The man was surprisingly stable for someone who had just found out how much of a mess full of monsters and death his life was, and she wondered if there was a part of him who still didn't believe the story she had shared with him.

She also wondered if he knew how to make anything but eggs and bacon for breakfast.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said after waiting hopelessly for her reaction and poured her a big mug. "I wanted to thank you, Jill. For telling me everything." One arm placed the mug onto the counter in front of the woman, who had to turn her face down to her breakfast so Chris wouldn't see the displeasure on it.

Everything was a relative concept. She had told him about Umbrella and about Raccoon; she had briefly introduced him to Claire's adventures in the RPD, on Rockfort Island and Antarctica, at which Chris had run to Mrs. Wilson's house to call his sister and ask her for forgiveness. She had informed him about Wesker's repeated survival; about important battles they had fought; about how Chris Redfield had stopped being an S.O.A. to become the Captain of the North American S.O.U., Alpha Team, leading him to recruit natural talents like Piers Nivans and many other soldiers. She had even told him about their failed mission in Edonia in which most of his men had lost their lives.

She hadn't told him about the Spencer Estate, though.

It wasn't important, was it? And she wasn't ready to make herself look like a heroine, anyway; not after all the crimes she'd been forced to commit. Once Wesker had found his little mind-control drug and made her his puppet, she had tortured, infected and slaughtered many people — innocent people— , and there was no self-sacrifice, light sensitivity or disrupted dream in the world that could make up for all her sins.

"You're welcome," she breathed into her mug and began to slurp the hot drink, her eyes watching her partner closely as he went back to prepare his own plate.

They hadn't spoken about the kiss nor about what it had done to her. It had come so unpredictably out of nowhere that she had expected him to just do it again at any time, putting her on constant alert. He hadn't, though. He hadn't even tried, and Jill couldn't stop herself from feeling somewhat disappointed about it.

"I hope you will take me to headquarters soon," he added when he leaned over his plate at the counter facing her. "Maybe if I see the images…"

And now? Now he was acting like nothing had ever happened. Jill frowned.

"You still don't remember?"

Chris blew out a breath.

"Flashes," he said and surprised her with his honesty. "Sensations. I saw a picture of a sinister painting in a catalogue and my head began to hurt."

Jill chuckled. Many people related to Umbrella shared a strange obsession for creepy artworks, and they had often laughed about the other common interests of the researchers, besides the virus thing and the experiments.

"You'll soon remember," she said, unsuccessfully trying to poke her fork into a crispy slice of bacon. "We will get back to New York after breakfast. And if you want to, we can go straight to headquarters."

Chris nodded, leaving his breakfast on the counter with the distinctive clunk of a ceramic plate.

"Great!"


It was past noon when they reached the huge building the B.S.A.A. had chosen to be their headquarters. Placed outside the city limits, it enjoyed the luxury of having enough space for an outside training ground as big as two football fields, its own shooting range and five floors of offices, gym and other kinds of comforts.

Chris couldn't get his mouth to close when Jill turned at the traffic light and entered the parking garage.

"This is where we work?"

The blonde chuckled as she rolled down the window and pressed the red alarm button on the device at the access gates.

Hello?

"Hi, this is Jill Valentine. I forgot my access card. Can you please open the gate for me?"

Index finger and thumb raised her sunglasses to her front, so the girl on the other end could see her face through the camera and identify her as the person she claimed to be.

Good morning Miss Valentine. Nice to see you again. Mister Johnson will be happy to have you back.

As soon as the position of the sunglasses was corrected, Jill rolled her eyes at the comment. After a short Thank you, she drove into the parking garage, leaving the Audi in Piers' usual spot.

"Johnson, right," Chris muttered thoughtfully. "The director of all this."

She nodded softly before killing the engine, letting her tongue snap into an audible click.

"He's not as bad as we described him," she said before she and Chris got out of the car. "We were just used to higher standards, you know?"

The man slammed the door shut too brutally —surprised by the strength in his limbs— and gave her a nod of understanding.

"O'Brien."

Jill made a face of bafflement. It was impressive how easily Chris had retained even the tiniest piece of information she had fed him, recovering every detail with no effort and outing himself as the world's best listener.

They decided to take the stairs. It would give Chris time to get used to the smell and noises, approach their target slowly instead of being spat into a chaotic reception hall by the elevator, and the man appreciated it. His palms were wet with warm sweat as they climbed up the steps to the first floor, where a big glass door with a huge emblem saying Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance, North American Branch welcomed them. He was happy that it was his elbow Jill squeezed before opening the door and asking him to step in —at least, it was dry. A couple of young women were seated at a curved front desk made of maple wood, one of them anxiously turning from one side to the other on her wheeled office chair as she was engaged in an animated phone call; the other, so far busy stapling a stack of papers, turned to greet the two founding members.

"Captain Redfield!" She jumped up, making her blond curls wave blithely around her head as her fingers began to pull on the hem of her skirt to make sure every compromising spot was covered. "It's so good to see you! How are you feeling?"

Jill slowly placed a hand onto the desk.

"Take it easy, Jenny," she said in a soothing voice. "He has amnesia."

The girl's shiny red lips formed a surprised O when her big blue doll eyes turned back to the man.

"I see, I'm sorry."

Chris chuckled, feeling how his mouth grew automatically into a big grin when his look collided with the girl's. She couldn't be older than nineteen, twenty at much, and the way she tried to look professional and grown-up reminded him somehow of Claire. Claire, though, wouldn't have made it through her teenage days had he ever caught her with such short skirts on. He laughed.

"Don't worry. Just have some patience if I don't remember something you told me..." One hand of his drew big circles backwards in the air. "It's because I'm having some troubles remembering general stuff."

She laughed a shrill laughter and the well-defined golden locks jumped like thin metal springs around her head. The girl in fire-red hair next to her slammed the handset back onto the phone and got up.

"Agent Valentine, Captain Redfield," she said with a respectful nod. Her demeanor was serious and calm, unlike her unnaturally red hair. "It's good to see you're back."

"Thank you, Amanda," Jill replied. "I will show Mister Redfield around to see if he starts remembering anything. I will be in my office later. If anyone asks for Chris, send them to me."

The two girls smirked understandingly and Jill turned Chris and herself away from the front desk.

"You have an office of your own?" Chris asked incredulously when they went through the glass door to take the stairs to the second floor. The question made Jill laugh.

"Of course! I practically live here. My own office is the least I can ask for." Her reply made him laugh. "You have one, too, by the way."

He stopped, letting Jill walk up a couple of steps as he assimilated the news. He couldn't deny that he used the chance to side glance at the roundness of her butt in those skin tight jeans; a view used to stealing more than one breath.

"You kidding me?"

And she laughed, stretching her hand out to invite him to follow her. And the sound of her laughter made his heart flutter.

"Come with me. I'll show you."


"And this, Captain Redfield, is your office!"

The expectation that had held him captive from the moment Jill had informed him about the existence of their own offices until she had opened the door ripped a gasp of surprise from him when he saw how beautifully the sun flooded the room and showered the pieces of furniture. Desk and shelves were held in the same light maple tone as the front desk and all other pieces they had come across on their way through the facility.

"Wow!"

It was all he could articulate, with his mind too busy keeping himself on his feet. He wandered wordlessly into the room, blinded by all the pictures and awards on the shelf, and baffled by the hero he apparently was. It was so full of memories he'd never had that his head began to ache. He turned around, letting his look inspect the four walls closely. That was a pretty nice office they had given him, bright and spacious, especially compared to the tiny, window-less wardrobe Wesker had occupied during his S.T.A.R.S. days and which he'd even had to share with Enrico. Chris grimaced when he thought of his days back at S.T.A.R.S., so present to him, but so long gone to the man he was supposed to be.

"You okay?"

He turned to face the concerned look of Jill. How would he ever thank her for staying with him after the accident she said he'd had? He was so grateful for her presence, for she and Claire were the only people in this goddamn universe who seemed to keep him grounded, reminding him of who he was beyond who he was supposed to be. He might have gone crazy in his very own future if it hadn't been for them.

"Yeah."

How beautiful she was, those bright eyes of hers loaded with curiosity, and standing out majestically from the paleness of her face along with the round little nose and her lips.

Her lips.

He couldn't suppress the twitch of his mouth when he thought of the kiss he had stolen from her and which was, apparently, the apex of their relationship so far. Soft and hungry, Jill Valentine had the sweetest mouth he'd ever gotten to kiss — as far as he remembered.

He hadn't insisted, sensing how uneasy she had been with the sudden situation, if that wasn't an understatement. The blonde hadn't stopped chewing on her lower lip throughout the telling of their story afterwards, she had started blinking nervously and had spilled her coffee twice, and he had decided that one kiss was enough for the time being. She seemed to have recovered from the shock, joking and laughing again as though nothing had happened, but there was still a hole in the layer of coolness and poise.

"Do you remember anything?"

Besides the taste of her? He breathed in and shrugged, concealing his thoughts.

"No. I'm sorry."

Her eyes narrowed bitterly, but the rosy roundness of her lip twitched into a smile of comfort and hope as she made a lovely little sound of cheer.

"Don't be. It'll soon come back to you. Just take your time," she said and turned to the door, pointing into the hallway. "I have to get something from my office very quickly before I can show you around and introduce you to your former… to your future life." An awkward expression climbed onto her face as she spoke. "Stay here and take a look around. Remember that everything in this office belongs to you."

His look followed her, glued to her round little ass until she disappeared into the hallway. He snickered to himself and resumed his inspection of the room, flooded by the intense bluish-yellow of the wintersun and Chris spotted the specks of dust flying through the air whenever he took a step forward. His own office. His father would be proud, he assumed. Just as the thought came to him, he turned to the shelf and frowned. If he really spent so much time in that place, why weren't there any pictures of his family in his office? Pictures of his parents and Claire, at least.

He frowned at the thought, wondering what kind of man it was that worked or lived behind that desk of his, and if he would like him once he met him.

"You're back!"

He turned around and met the gaze of a woman in long, dark hair that covered her whole frame down to her elbows like one of those religious robes. Red lips shone through from behind the locks, giving a hint of life to the pale face underneath. It was a different paleness than Jill's, Chris realized, as the woman in front of him wore it with pride and power, while Jill seemed almost ashamed of her skin whenever he gazed at her for too long. It looked better on the blonde, though.

"Hi," he said and smiled kindly, stretching his hand out. "I'm Chris."

The woman's left eyebrow jumped up, making him reconsider his last words.

"Sorry, I mean... You probably know that."

The beautiful though uninteresting young lady in the tight, blue dress chuckled as soon as her expression relaxed.

"So, it's true what they say?" She breathed as she swaggered into his direction and Chris watched her alarmedly. She was young. She was beautiful. She looked like she ate a couple of men for breakfast every day. "You lost your memory?"

He had smelled her when she had still been standing at the door. Now that he had the woman right under his nose, her perfume was poisoning, sweet and sour like a green apple, and her intense stare said she was used to getting whatever she wanted by saying three little words. From Eat my pussy to Wash my car, it didn't matter.

"Well maybe I can help you remember," her voice loaded with eroticism, she leastways could have had the decency to introduce herself before looping her arm around his neck and sticking her tongue into his mouth. Chris was too surprised to pull away before she had the chance to moan a couple of times, but when he understood what was happening, his hands rose immediately to her shoulders and pushed her back.

"Oh, lady, I…."

She made a sound of disappointment and clicked her tongue, making him almost fear her punishment.

"No?" A pair of eyebrows rose in expectation, until he shook his head into her displeased face. "How odd. I thought you would remember the good time we had at the Christmas party." Another awaiting glance; another headshake. "In the supply room?"

Chris deadpanned a second, considering what it was that they had done in that supply room at the Christmas party. He probably didn't want to know.

"Melissa!"

Had there ever been a voice as wonderful as the loud grunt Piers Nivans projected into his office? When the pair turned, they found the young lieutenant standing in the doorway, with his arms tightly crossed and a look of disapproval on his face.

"Don't you have work to do?"

The woman —Melissa— upon getting caught by the man, dedicated another smirk to Chris before innocently tucking her hair behind her right ear.

"Your puppy is here," she whispered and patted his chest before turning to the door.

"I heard that," Piers complained as she walked past him, at which the dark-haired woman gave him a lascive look over her creamy shoulder.

"Cool down, Airhart," she said, making her way out of the office, sway after sway. "That bossy attitude isn't getting you anywhere."

The young man snorted like a dragon about to spit fire, waiting patiently until the lady was out of sight. Chris stood in his corner of the room, hesitant of the apology he should be giving.

"She knows my name," Piers finally broke the awkward silence, explaining the earlier exchange as though he wanted to restore his own manly pride. "She works in Human Resources. She knows, at least, that Airhart's dead. She's just being an immense bitch."

Chris nodded, showing comprehension. Despite the woman's intense and extremely persuasive arguments, he had no doubt that Piers was the one worthy of his trust. After all, he was the one his former self had chosen to be his second-in-command.

Although his former self also spent his Christmas parties in supply rooms.

"Did you imagine your office like this?" Piers asked with a smile growing on his face and tugged him out of his musings. "Any memories surfacing?"

Chris laughed.

"I didn't know I had one, to be honest. This is all so overwhelming, but I don't remember anything. Yet."

The other man's face distorted into an awkward grimace.

"You'll soon remember," he said encouragingly and smiled.

How were they all so certain about that? Over two months had passed and he didn't remember anything solid. How could he get a grasp on the instant flashes that came to him, so briefly that he sometimes couldn't tell if it was a memory trying to come back or just a sneeze.

"Isn't Agent Valentine around?"

Chris almost didn't catch the question, quickly nodding eagerly as soon as he recognized the familiar name of his partner.

"She went to get something," he replied with a gesture to the hallway. "She'll be right back."

Piers smirked.

"Maybe you want to…" he mumbled, one finger pointed at his mouth. "Have a look into the mirror before."

Oh, god, that woman's lips had been redder when she'd entered the room than when she had left again, being the layer one intense shade of fire minus a softer hint of blood, and the result lay traitorously on his own face. Chris sucked in a short stream of air and leaped towards the door, crowning Piers' shoulder with a thankful pat.

"Restrooms are down the corridor," the younger man advised.

Before he could swing his form out of the office like a dancer around a pole, the captain turned back to the man.

"Piers?" He asked, quickly gaining a gesture of attention from the man. "How clean are the supply rooms here?"

After a couple of thoughtful blinks, the lieutenant grimaced in disgust, discarding any idea that wasn't related to keeping supplies in said rooms with a head shake.

"I see," Chris muttered. "Thank you."


Jill clicked restlessly through the pictures and reports they had gathered throughout the years. Not much was left about Arklay, as the few reports they had been clever enough to shove into their pouches on their way through the mansion had been quickly confiscated by Irons. They were lucky Jill and Rebecca had made copies of the most compromising documents before involving the Police Chief, but when Raccoon City had burned, they had lost half of the rest. Whatever they had experienced after the fall of the metropolis, though —with the exception of Rockfort Island and the base in Antarctica—, was precisely documented and reported, completed with pictures of drawings, detailed descriptions and background information about who was pulling the strings behind the scenarios. When the B.S.A.A. had been founded, they had scanned every tiny piece of paper, keeping digital copies accessible to anyone in the organization. Ordered, tagged and stored, it was an immense database of bioterror that served organizations worldwide in their fight against terrorists.

Jill didn't know where to start with her selection of material she would show Chris. Pictures of zombies, perhaps. Among all the B.O.W.s and other infected, maybe they were the easiest to get over due to their remaining human appearance. Or maybe it just made it harder. Hunters had a human base, but the reptile DNA that had been crossed into them gave them looks that made you forget that you weren't just killing an animal. She sighed. Maybe she would start with zombie dogs.

A knock on the door sent her look upwards to meet the face of director Johnson. The victoriously pleased glance of the man put another frown onto her face. The whole situation around Chris' amnesia would carve deep wrinkles even into the genetically enhanced youthful appearance of her face.

"Agent Valentine," Johnson greeted. "I heard you were back. Welcome."

Forcing a smile, she got up to show the director the respect he always requested.

"Thank you," she gasped. "It feels good to be here again. Captain Redfield's back, too. I'm planning on introducing him to his past. I'm sure you heard…"

"That he has amnesia, yes." The man grunted, the way he scratched his elbow showing how uncomfortable he was about social interactions. "I'd love to get our own team to check on him. Just to confirm…"

Her eyebrow jumped into a sarcastic expression as she was confronted with the ideas.

"Confirm what?" She asked, arms crossed in front of her chest. "That he doesn't remember? Sir, I don't think we need a second opinion on that. Chris wouldn't fake an amnesia and the two doctors that checked on him in Europe are reputed professionals in their fields."

It was obvious that Johnson didn't like her tone, but the intense flickering of his eyes said he was, at least, considering her words. After a brief moment exchanging glances, the man blew out a breath.

"I see, yes." He nodded and turned to the door. "I trust your criteria in this, Agent Valentine. I know you will make sure Captain Redfield will be operative as soon as possible."

He thrummed his fingers against the door leaf, waiting for her to respond. Jill let him wait a second longer than needed, only to redeem her position as a founding member.

"Yes."

With a laugh, Johnson eventually excused himself and left the office, and Jill dropped back into the chair. The tension drawn from her body, she relaxed.

It looked like she had just gotten into a catfight with Johnson over Chris' peace of mind. And she knew that she would, most probably, do it again.

It was all she could do for him.


Never had he been happier not to run into another soul on his way to the restrooms, as that woman's cherry chapstick covering the skin around his lips had given him the looks of a circus clown, and it had taken him more than six sheets of toilet paper to wipe the red stains off his face. Sugary and creamy like candy it was, but he was certain that Jill's lips were still the sweetest he had ever kissed.

Chris turned his attention from the lower part of his reflection up to his eyes, and he couldn't recognize the man behind them anymore. Ever since he'd woken up from his coma, he hadn't felt particularly weird in this grown-up version of himself, but seeing what he had become against his will made him wonder what kind of trauma he'd had to endure. Bioterrorism was some serious shit, but was it enough to turn him into a man who didn't care enough to take a girl to a hotel instead of hastily fucking her in a supply room?

But who really cared? It didn't matter if said girl wasn't Jill Valentine.

He chuckled at himself. Had it been Jill, it would have been different, of that he was sure. Jill deserved to be loved, not to be kept in a dark room like a broomstick, although he had to admit that the dream of throwing her onto Wesker's desk in the S.T.A.R.S. office had crossed his mind more than once. They would have made much better use of it.

Chris sighed at his sad reflection. It was time for him to finally face the mystery of a man he had become. After pushing the door to the hallway back open, he noticed the bright light that was poured into the building, swallowed easily by the dark carpet floor. He hadn't paid attention to the big glass door before, but now that all hurries and worries about lipstick were forgotten, he decided to enjoy the view of the garden attached to the building.

Only that it wasn't a garden.


When she returned to Chris' office and found the figure of Piers Nivans propped against the wall next to the window, she instantly knew where all the comparisons came from. The young man had unconsciously adopted even simple gestures of his Captain, and Jill had to admit it looked good on him, even though it made him appear older than he was.

"Piers," she greeted and let a puzzled gaze wave across the office. "Where is Chris?"

He smiled quickly, rewarding her with an affirmative gesture.

"In the restrooms. He'll be back in no time."

Jill nodded in relief, dragging herself over to Chris' desk, where she took a seat and flipped open the laptop she had brought with her.

"Oh, thanks for the ride," she said and pulled the man's car key out of her pocket. "It was really helpful. Tank's full."

With a smirk of relief on his lips, the young soldier pushed himself away from the wall and took the keys. He wouldn't admit it, but he had wished really badly for them to give his car back. The full fuel tank was a just payment for the inconveniences.

He played it down brilliantly, though, only cheering a little bit when he replied, "Thanks. I can take you and the Captain back home later if you need it."

He was a gentleman after all, and Jill accepted the offer gratefully.

"How was the ride yesterday? Any complications?" she asked, curiously watching the young man's reaction.

"Not at all," he responded, willing to let Jill know how well he had watched over his Captain's younger sister and how he had taken her home and left the Mini with her before getting back to his place by subway. However, Chris stumbled back into the room before Piers could even mention the redhead.

"Hey!" Jill exclaimed as she saw him and jumped up, pointing at the screen. "I brought my laptop. Couldn't expect you to remember your password."

She laughed. Chris didn't. He just stared at her in silence, as though he didn't really understand what she was telling him.

"I was going to show you pictures of…" she said and shrugged. "You know… everything."

Chris' reaction put a frown onto Piers' face. Hadn't he seen and spoken to his Captain just half an hour before; a long time for a walk to the restrooms, admittedly; he would have simply attributed his behavior to the revelations Jill had shared with him, but Chris had been normal Chris when he'd found him in the fangs of Melissa Knox before; maybe a little shier than usual, but awake and curious. The man that stood with them in the room right now would have been stomped into the ground by the Captain he was used to.

Jill pulled the chair away from the desk as a silent offer for Chris to have a seat, and the big man began to move. Piers watched them, admiring Jill Valentine for bravely keeping her composure as the Captain walked past her, still wordlessly, and sank into the chair. She leaned over the desk and typed something into the computer before a sigh found its way out.

"Chris?" She called his name and the man turned his face to her. "Some of these images are hard to look at. Please tell me if you start feeling sick or dizzy. Also if you have questions, okay?"

How those icy eyes of hers could spread such a warm look would remain a mystery to Piers, but whenever Jill Valentine looked at Chris Redfield, there was indeed a special connection between them; something that could even be sensed from the outside, if you were close enough. A connection made of trust, friendship, maybe love. It was the essence of Valenfield. Piers chuckled softly when he remembered the talk he'd had with Claire the previous day. She was right. What was between Chris and Jill, was more than just partnership or chemistry.

"I'll get going," he mumbled and walked to the door. "Call me if you need anything."

But he knew that everything they needed was with them in the same room.


When the pen stopped writing, she knew the day was over. Claire had been stuck in meetings all morning long, trying hard not to give in to sleepiness when the financial director laid out the department's budget plans for the current quarter, complaining about how the rest of the NGO had exceeded the budget by fourteen percent to meet their insignificant goals. Afterwards, she had been listening to the whining of one of the major donors, who had threatened her with rescinding his annual donation if his company wasn't treated better in the future. At four, she decided she had worked enough for that day and chose to quickly make a list of tasks she would take care of throughout the rest of the week before leaving, and she was lucky that the pen stopped spitting out ink and just scratched noisily over the paper. She might still sit in her office making said list, if not.

After releasing a deep sigh, Claire dug out her phone from her pocket and tried to call Jill again. She could barely wait to speak to Chris and ask him how he was feeling, the phone call of the previous day still itching under her skin. Chris had never really apologized to her for leaving her in the dark about Umbrella; not back in the 90s, not in the present time; mostly because he was certain he had done it to protect her; boldly ignoring that his concern had nearly gotten her killed anyway. But now he had apologized. He had asked her for forgiveness and she felt closer than ever to her big brother.

She dialed Jill's number again. The blonde had told her they were coming back to New York that day, and if they had left in the morning, they had sure long reached the city. So why didn't she just pick up the fucking phone?

Finding the device disconnected again, she tossed her own phone away in anger, wondering silently who she would call next to bother them about the current location of Valenfield. The office, maybe.

Before she could dial the number of the B.S.A.A., she changed her mind and quickly chose a different person to call. She was relieved to hear the ring tone.

"Claire?"

A second later, she felt incredibly stupid for not coming up with a better way to greet the voice on the other end.

"Hey, Piers," she said and rubbed her front into her palm. "I… sorry I'm calling but… You won't happen to know where my brother and Jill are…?"

There was white background noise and the sound of honkings wherever he was; probably in a car. Good, if he had his ride back, it meant that Jill and Chris had returned it already.

"Oh, you just missed them. Left them at Valentine's place a minute ago."

A sigh of relief escaped her lips.

"Oh, thank god," she exclaimed. "I feared the worst."

The man laughed.

"What could have possibly happened to them? Relax. They spent the day at the office, going through different types of B.O.W.s and introducing your brother to the colleagues. Jill mentioned they hadn't even gone home before, so her phone is probably still off."

A smirk of relief grew on her lips. She had become a little paranoid, it seemed, and she couldn't deny that she suddenly felt embarrassed about the situation. However, after the very personal talks they'd had in the car on their way home the day before; not to mention their night together; she could surely consider Piers one of her friends now, and he would understand her concerns.

"How is he?"

Piers made a sound of hesitation.

"Oh well, he's dealing pretty well, I think. He seems to be a little confused, but don't worry, Claire. He's still adapting."

She felt her facial muscles tense as a wide smile spread across her lips. She pressed the phone tighter to her ear and nervously tapped her finger onto the backside of the device.

"Okay, thanks Piers. I guess I'll just wait for her to give me a call."

She heard him sigh impatiently before he responded in an agitated tone, "Yeah, it's the best thing you can do."

She rolled her eyes at the thought that she was probably bothering him. How dumb she felt. He was driving and didn't have time for the bullshit of a paranoid old lady.

He heard her laugh.

"Okay, thank you, Piers," the hands-free kit said with Claire's voice. "I won't waste any more of your time."

"You don't…" he tried to say, but Claire had already hung up, leaving him alone with the silence that was the traffic noise to him. And he kept driving through the city streets, now helplessly delivered to the mercy of his own cold thoughts.


"It's okay, Claire," Jill mumbled into the phone for the uptenth time, rolling her eyes at Chris in amusement. "Don't worry."

When the redhead had finally gotten to speak to her brother that day, the scene from the previous afternoon just repeated itself in front of Jill's eyes. Chris on the phone with his sister, spelling all kinds of apologies and warm words to each other. Something was different this time, though, something that had shifted on the man's face so imperceptibly that she had to check twice if it wasn't just a product of her exhausted mind. It wasn't. It was there. A line of something she couldn't identify as something she had seen on him before, and it made her believe that any of the promises she could give to his sister were actually a big, fat lie.

"Of course, he'll be fine."

Chris had dropped his whole weight onto the couch, searching for the needed rest after a long, exhausting day, and Jill joined him as soon as she ended the call with Claire.

"So? How was your day?"

He laughed darkly without really looking at her, and the reaction was so uncommon for the cheerful man he had become that Jill almost believed to find old Chris beneath that protective fortress the amnesia had built around him. She swallowed, afraid of any reaction he could show, but bravely deciding to put her hand onto his shoulder anyway.

"You okay?"

He turned his face to her, allowing her look to collide with this stare full of accusation. His hand crawled up to hers on his shoulder and held it in a tight grasp before she could pull it back. The gesture was filled with such passive violence that it almost scared her.

"Chris?"

He clicked his tongue as his eyes turned into narrow slits.

"I went to the graveyard today."

Instinct made her want to pull her hand back, but her self control kept her from trying. It would have been useless, anyway, as the man was still holding it too tightly. She knew what came next, when all the pieces suddenly fit together and the whole situation; Chris' demeanor included; began to make sense.

"Oh, really?"

But she wasn't going to let anxiety control her, willing to delay the inevitable. Chris responded to her interested question with a sigh, releasing her hand from his. The blonde took the chance to break the physical contact and turn away, walking straight towards the kitchen.

"What do you want for dinner?" She innocently asked as she opened the fridge and bathed in the bright shine of the cool light. She didn't flinch when she heard Chris' heavy footsteps following her into the kitchen. "Chicken or…?"

"Why is there a tombstone with your name on it, Jill?"


A/N: Thank you all so much for the support. I replied to all of your wonderful reviews through a PM, but FFnet is lazy and often doesn't send out notifications. So if you left a review with your account and didn't receive a reply, please check the PM section on the website to receive my token of gratitude :D (not the mobile app).

And to my dearest guest reviewer 1, whom I can't send a PM, these words: oh, Piers and Claire are still wonderfully dumb. But they'll soon find out how obviously they were made for each other. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing my dear. I hope you are fine and safe and healthy.

I hope you all are.

By the way, Melissa's appearance is the result of a petition from wilburforcemoney on chapter 7 (which was published... in March... fuck, I'm so slow).

Please forgive me.