Forever
-chapter sixteen
Turn out the lights now
To see is to believe
I just want you near me
I just want you here with me
And I'd give up everything only for you
It's the least that I could do
'Cause when there's you, I feel whole
And there's no better feeling in the world
But without you, I'm alone
And I'd rather be in love with you
And I feel you holding me...
-michelle branch, "i'd rather be in love"
For what seemed like the millionth time, a tear flowed unobstructed down
Rebecca Chambers' cheek. For the first thousand or so, Beccy quickly wiped the tears
away with the back of her hand, but she soon found herself with more tears than she
could wipe away, and soon, she gave up and let the tears fall. Her eyes were red and she
didn't want to cry, but the tears came anyways and she had no choice but to let them out.
Her mother always said she should let the tears out whenever they came, because
hiding them wouldn't do her any good. It was best that she let out her emotions, because
keeping them inside could have potentially dangerous consequences. She decided to
follow her mother's advice.
Two days have passed since the fateful night that saw the S.T.A.R.S. save the
lives of fifty plus hostages. Apparently, she was in a coma for eleven hours before
suddenly coming to her senses. Beccy remembered little of the actual sortie, due to a
combination of her injuries, psychological trauma, and the pain-killers the doctors gave
her which she presumed had some effect on her memory. What she did know was related
to her by Carlos, who rarely left the side of her hospital bed.
"You were a brave soldier, chica," Carlos said a couple of hours ago as he sat
there, talking to her, "a brave soldier. I dunno if I could've done what you did."
Apparently, she had stepped in front of Andy when he fell and took three shots
while she was covering him with her body. It surprised her, because she wasn't quite sure
that she had the courage in her to do such an action. Regardless, she felt somewhat proud
of herself. She was also happy that civilian casualties were at a minimum and overall the
mission was deemed a success. Several members of her Alpha Team were wounded but
not seriously; except for Chris, who was still in critical but stable condition.
Carlos informed her that she was even credited with one official confirmed kill,
which was surprising to say the very least. She had never hit a tango before, let alone hit
and killed one. Must've been a fluke, she reasoned.
The good news ended there, however. After spending what seemed like a lifetime
in the intensive care ward, the doctors had finally come to her and gave her a diagnosis of
her injuries. She remembered that the tears began to flow even before the doctors began
to speak; she could do nothing but clutch Carlos' hand weakly as they gave her her full
diagnosis.
The doctors had informed her then that it was likely that her injuries had left her
right leg severely damaged, to the point where she could only move the leg with the
greatest of effort. One of the bullets had come dangerously close to her spine and while
the doctors were successful in removing it, the damage that it had done to the joint where
her leg met her hip was irreversible. In short, she would walk with a limp for the rest of
her life. Merely walking around would be difficult chore, let alone running. Not being
able to run or jog meant not being able to participate in S.T.A.R.S. sorties, which in turn
meant she was useless to the team...
She buried her face in her hands as the doctors said that she would never get the
green light to engage in a mission ever again. It hit her harder than a sledgehammer; she
wouldn't miss the gunfire or the killing involved with the S.T.A.R.S., but she would miss
the feeling that she was helping someone in her duties as team medic. That, and the
irreplaceable sense of camaraderie that develops between brothers-in-arms.
That's when the tears started, and they didn't stop since then. The doctors did the
best they could to comfort her, but their words, while having good meaning, didn't have
any effect on Beccy. Their words sounded muffled and blurry to Beccy, as if the doctors
were speaking gibberish. Her friends came by, one by one, to comfort and support her,
and while Beccy appreciated the effort, she didn't really gain anything from them. The
tears continued to flow, and Carlos could do nothing but stroke her hair and whisper in
her ear as she cried into her hands.
Now, Carlos had fallen asleep in the chair next to Beccy's hospital bed, his head
lying on the bed itself, while his hand still clutched hers. Beccy was thankful for Carlos;
just two weeks ago she never knew that the cocky "lovers man" she had known for quite
some time would become her closest friend and only support in this difficult time. Carlos
was the closest thing she had to a boyfriend in her entire life. It was sad, but true.
She regarded him now, as he slept peacefully. Gathering all her physical and
mental strength, she got into a sitting position, groaning as her bandaged wounds ached
and reminded her of their presence. She tried her best to not look at the dead weight that
her right leg had suddenly become, and tried to reach over to the foot of her bed, where a
folded up blanket lay. Face contorted in discomfort, she spread it over Carlos' loudly
snoring form. Satisfied that he was comfortable, she returned to her original position.
She squeezed his hand again, and tried to think of positively. So long as she held
on to Carlos' hand, positive things were easy to think of. She forced herself to think of
things other than her injury. It was difficult and for the first couple of minutes the injury
was all she could think of. She thought of all the things she wanted to accomplish in life
that would now be impossible thanks to her leg... fresh tears began to arrive in her eyes,
and they joined the path of the tears that came before them as they travelled down her
cheek.
But Beccy forced herself to be strong, and she gradually began to move away
from the negativity that was plaguing her mind. She forced herself to think of better
things, of better times. Most of the thoughts that circulated in her head revolved around
her five closest friends, most notably the man who's hand she clutched tightly. She
wasn't sure about which turn their relationship would take; Carlos had had many before
her, and maybe many more after her. Whatever the case, she didn't care. Carlos was there
right now, right here, and that was all that mattered.
At the very least, she realised, she was still alive. That alone was a lot to be
thankful for.
Slowly but surely, a smile came to her lips. Another tear came down her cheek,
but unlike the many tears that preceeded it, it was not a tear of sadness.
* * *
On the opposite side of the hospital, Jill Valentine awoke from the dream she had
just had. In it, she and Chris were walking pleasantly down a path in the middle of a
meadow. They were just holding hands and walking, talking about this or that, not doing
anything important in particular. She didn't quite remember what they were talking
about, or where they were walking to. Nonetheless, just being with Chris, even in a
dream, was enough for her.
She rose suddenly, and was extremely relieved to find that the beep-beep-beep of
the machine hooked up to Chris was still working, meaning that for the time being the
S.T.A.R.S. Captain was still alive. She looked at him, his eyes still closed, just the way
she had left him before she drifted off into sleep. It was almost disappointing, because
she was almost sure she felt him caress her cheek and squeeze her hand before she dozed
off. It was probably just a figment of her imagination.
In the fourty-eight hours since the S.T.A.R.S. mission, she had spent about
fourty-six-and-a-quarter of them next to Chris in the small, cramped hospital room that
had become her temporary home. In the time she wasn't next to Chris, (Claire had asked
for time alone with him) she had checked up on everyone else in the team; she tried her
best to comfort Beccy, but Jill knew her heart wasn't fully into it. She took some
comfort, however, in the fact that Carlos was there to comfort Beccy, anyways.
Minutes passed like hours, and hours passed like days. She spent most of the time
whispering nothings to Chris, or humming and singing the tunes to songs she knew Chris
loved. She wondered for a time if she was going insane, and she was almost sure she was,
until Dr.Bryce had stopped by to check up on him in the afternoon of the first day. She
had caught Jill halfway through, of all things, the second verse of 'Everywhere' by
Michelle Branch.*
Jill had stopped her singing as soon as the doctor entered the room. Dr.Bryce
examined Chris' wounds briefly, before making some notes in the clipboard she was
carrying. After a while Jill asked the doctor how Chris was doing.
"If all goes well, he should be okay. You never really know, though... he's not
outta the woods yet. And in the case that he does live through this, he's got a long road to
recovery ahead of him."
"As long as he lives; that's all I could possibly want," Jill stated, matter-of-factly.
The young doctor smiled at Jill. "His life will go through some changes, but he
can easily make a full recovery. It'll take a lot of willpower and determination to get
back into the state he was in before his injuries, but if he really gives it his all, it's very
possible. This, of course, is assuming he makes it through the next few days."
Jill nodded in understanding.
"He's lucky to have a friend like you. A lot of people suddenly lose their resolve
and dedication when they see their loved ones in this condition. But when you see
someone's resolve and dedication _increase_ during times like these, that's when you
know they've got something special. I see that in you and your team, Miss Valentine."
Jill gave Chris an earnest look and his hand a squeeze. "He does mean a lot to
me... Thank you, doctor. It means a lot. Thank you for everything."
"No problem, it's all part of the job," the doctor replied, before brushing a stray
lock of hair out of the way. The young doctor looked tired and downright exhausted, but
she found the strength to smile warmly again at Jill, before making her way to the door.
As she reached it, she turned back to Jill.
"By the way, I didn't know such tough-looking military guys like that could be
into Michelle Branch. I learn something new every day."
Dr.Bryce smiled once more, and headed out the door to check on her other
patients.
* * *
Jill sighed, after the doctor left the room, stroking Chris' hair back for the
millionth time. She let the warm palm of her hand caress his forehead, gazing fondly at
his face with tired eyes as she laid her head back down on the bed. She was still sleepy. A
glance at the digital clock on the nightstand next to the hospital bed informed her that it
was 8:21 in the morning.
Half-wishing for Chris to stroke her hair back and caress her face again, Jill fell
back into the calm, peaceful sleep from which she had briefly emerged.
* * *
Claire Redfield paced back and forth in the Hospital's waiting room. Patients and
medical staff alike walked past her, this way and that. The wounded hostages and the
remaining S.T.A.R.S. had departed hours ago. Barry and the others promised to come
back just as soon as they had gotten a couple of hours of sleep and spent some time with
family. Leon had left thirty minutes ago, promising to return once he had taken a shower
and gotten Claire some clean clothes from her apartment.
Claire herself wasn't sure how she felt about the entire thing. For the first couple
of hours, when Chris' condition was extremely critical, she was extremely afraid of
losing him. Now that Chris' condition was somewhat stabilized, she had calmed down
somewhat, although she knew that Chris was still in danger. She couldn't stand still;
instead, she paced back and forth in the lobby, because at least it gave her something to
occupy her brain with.
Claire was never really one for standing still, anyways. She tried sitting down a
couple of minutes ago, forcing herself to flip through a magazine and listen to the
hospital announcements on the P.A.
"Dr. Hal Emmerich to the Otacon Ward please, Dr.Otacon to the Otacon Ward,
thank you."
"Dr. Wily to the Robotics Lab, please, Dr.Wily to the Robotics Lab, thank you."
"Dr. Mario to the Pharmacy please, thank you."
That didn't work. Claire tried looking around, for something to occupy her...
She had a habit always tapping her fingers, or tapping her foot, or swinging her
legs underneath a chair. She just couldn't stand still. It was often the cause of much
irritation to those around her, especially Chris, who always liked to sit down and think
things over before acting.
It was probably this preference for thought over action which resulted in Chris
hesitating every time Jill and himself had gotten close, Claire noted. She could remember
dozens of times when she saw both Chris and Jill act all teenager-like around each other,
as if they were thinking too much about what to say and when to say it, for fear of saying
the wrong thing. It frustrated Claire, because she always knew Chris had a thing for Jill
and it got her flustered because she couldn't understand why Chris couldn't just do what
needed to be done.
It had all changed that fateful afternoon when Chris had sprained his ankle
playing football and he finally gathered the willpower necessary to spill his guts to Jill.
Claire sighed; that innocent afternoon at the park seemed like ages ago (it does feel like
ages ago... see chapter four -author) but in fact it was only a couple of weeks in the past.
So much had happened, so much had changed since that day. The past two weeks would
dictate the events of years to come.
Both Beccy and Chris had long and bumpy roads ahead of them. Andy and the
other S.T.A.R.S. team members who were wounded (herself included) would carry scars
for the rest of their lives. Not to mention the four Charlie teammates she had lost...
Claire didn't have time to mourn them, and she wasn't sure if right now was the
right time. She didn't really know any of them exceptionally well, but the others did and
anytime anyone you know dies it still has some effect on you, however small. In time,
maybe she could shed tears for them as well, but at the present time she was all cried out.
She stopped her pacing, and looked out the window. Birds flew in the air and the
sky was still blue. She and her friends had just gone to hell and back, but at the end of the
day the birds were still flying and the grass was still green. At times she wished she was a
bird, so that she wouldn't have the cares and concerns she had now. All she would do
was fly, fly away from the city and into the mountains, fly into the valleys and the hills,
fly into the blue, blue sky... fly away from gunfire and injured comrades and fly away
from hatred and fear and pain...
A small frown appeared on Claire's lips when she realised that she couldn't fly. A
tear materialsed in her eye...
....but as she looked out the window, she spotted Leon walking across the patch of
grass inbetween the hospital parking lot and the entrance, obviously unaware that Claire
was watching him. Suddenly, Leon stopped walking when he felt something hit him in
the head. With a disgusted look on his face, he touched the top of his head. His hand
came away stained with a dark substance. Apparently, a passing bird had chosen Leon as
target practice.
"Shit! I just took a fucking shower!" she heard Leon say, despite the fact that he
was about a hundred yards away from her. Several passing hospital employees stopped
and stared at the young S.T.A.R.S. lieutenant, who was beginning to throw a fit in the
hospital courtyard.
Claire burst out in giggles.
"I've always wanted to be a bird," she said softly outloud to herself.
* * *
Elsewhere, Jill had taken a brief break from her vigil at Chris' side to dart into the
hallway. She dragged the nearest member of the hospital staff down and asked him where
the nearest vending machine was; she was hungry as hell and she needed something,
anything, to at least put off her stomach for the time being.
Several minutes and stops for directions later, she found the elusive piece of
machinery in question and fished around in her pockets for change. It was a floor down
from where everyone said it was and tucked in the corner of a fairly large lobby, but she
found it nonetheless. A quarter.. a nickel.. another quarter.. some dimes.. three pennies..
dammit! She was seven cents short for the Cookies'n'Cream bar she so desperately
craved. She put the palm of her hand on the pane of glass seperating her from the
delicious white chocolate with a delightful cookie crunch, as if doing so would somehow
cause the seven cents she needed to materialise out of thin air into her hands.
Suddenly, Leon Kennedy appeared in the room through the automatic sliding
doors, an angry look on his face. He carried a duffel bag slung across both his shoulders.
The S.T.A.R.S. lieutenant was angrily wiping something from the top of his head with a
washcloth, swearing and cursing rather loudly as he did so.
"Leon! Give me seven cents!"
"That sounded like an order," Leon said, "and I think you should know that I
officially outrank you, in the S.T.A.R.S. _Sergeant First Class Valentine_."
"Yeah well, my fist is about to outrank your face if you don't give me my seven
cents."
"Dammit Jill, my wallet's in my back pocket."
A smile coming to her face, she moved behind Leon, and swiftly snatched the
wallet from his back pocket. Rifling through it, she found the seven cents she needed in
the coin pocket... and a twenty-dollar bill, which she stealthily slid into her pocket with a
sly smile as payback for Leon's 'outranking' insult. Satisfied that she had stolen all she
could without Leon noticing -she was a former thief, afterall- she slipped the wallet back
into Leon's back pocket.
"Thanks Leon. I really need these seven cents."
"Bah..." Leon said, before walking off, mumbling incoherently. The odd swear
word was heard as he turned the corner, still trying desperately to wipe God knows what
from the top of his head.
* * *
Jill closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy the sweet taste of the choclate in
her mouth as she slowly made her way back to Chris' room. It was the first real good
thing she had eaten in the past couple of days, and she allowed herself to fully savoir it.
When she reached the room in question, she sat down on a chair outside it, planning to
re-enter once she had finished the chocolate bar with a delightful cookie crunch.
Halfway through the bar, however, she noticed that something was missing. As if
something in the air that was usually there was suddenly absent. Her senses racked her
brain in a vain attempt to find out just what it was... she looked around her desperately,
her years of training telling her that something was wrong. The sixth sense she gained in
Raccoon City's trials was telling her -screaming at her- that something was wrong...
-Of course! Chris' beeping had stopped! She couldn't her the beeping of the
machine that told her Chris was still alive!-
Suddenly afraid that Chris had flatlined, she dropped the chocolate bar and rushed
to the door of Chris' room. Her fingers refused to work for her, and the precious
milliseconds it took for her to turn the doorknob seemed frighteningly slow. As soon as
the door opened, she dashed into the room, worried above everything else that she was
too late, that Chris had died, and without her by his side... No, no, no, no, she said again
and again in her mind, as she entered the room. To her horror, she discovered that the
beep-beep-beep sound was gone, to be replaced by a solid beeeeeeeeep sound, signaling
that Chris had flatlined. Frightened above all words over what she might see, her eyes
darted to Chris' bed...
-to find that Chris was in a sitting position on his bed, the connector that was
supposed to be monitoring his heartbeat in his hand. Evidently, he had disconnected the
machine himself.
"The freakin' beep-beep-beep sound was pissing me off. How do you turn this
thing off?" the S.T.A.R.S. Captain said.
Jill was torn between the sudden urge of wanting to punch the living daylights out
of him, and the intense happiness she had that Chris had finally regained consciousness.
She wasn't sure what expression she should wear on her face, and she ended up standing
there, motionless, her mouth wide open as if in surprise.
"Fuck you, Chris!! I thought you were dead! You fucking almost gave me a
fucking heart-attack!!! Fuck... fuck, fuck you!! Fuck!" she said, the words rushing to her
throat faster than her brain could process them.
The S.T.A.R.S. Captain scratched the back of his head with his right hand, as he
always did when he either didn't know the answer to something or when he knew he was
in trouble.
"Good morning to you too, Jill," he managed to stumble out.
Jill controlled her anger, and, putting all her thoughts of causing bodily harm to
the wounded man aside, she rushed over to the bed and threw her arms around him. She
hugged him tightly, tears rushing to her eyes. Chris grimaced, because Jill's body
pressing against his made his wounds ache, but he bore the pain like any real man should
when an extremely attractive woman such as Jill is giving him a hug.
"It... it hurts," Chris said. He didn't want to admit the pain but it got the better of
him. He sounded like a three-year-old who's mother was putting a bandage on a scraped
knee.
"Oh, I'm.. I'm sorry," Jill said, the wide smile that was on her face threatening to
tear her head in two, "I'm sorry. But you scared the shit outta me, Chris." Tears flowed
freely down her cheeks.
At that instant, hospital staff rushed into the room, Dr.Bryce being the first one to
reach Chris. Upon realising what had actually happened and that Chris had disconnected
the machine herself, she swore.
"What the?" the young doctor said, "the computer told us you were flatlining!"
"Um, yeah... about that.. Uh, the sound was pissing me off," Chris mumbled, still
scratching the back of his head.
For the next two minutes, Dr.Bryce, Jill, and several other hospital staff treated
Chris to a lecture over how you should never disconnect the heartbeat monitor, how
doing so could give certain people a heart-attack, etc., etc., etc., etc. Chris stared down at
his hands, as the people around him scolded him, making him look a lot like a kid who's
hand was just caught in the cookie jar.
When the staff had left, Jill was left with Chris.
"I thought you were dead, Chris," Jill said softly.
"Me too. But I told myself when I was young that I would go see the Statue of
Liberty before I died, and I haven't done that yet, so I decided to come back to life,"
Chris stated.
"I was expecting something along the lines of 'Jill, it was the memory of your
love and beauty were what kept me from falling into the after-life, I love you, Jill', you
bastard," Jill said, trying to pretend to be angry at him but failing.
"Um, yeah," Chris said, "that's it."
"I missed you. I thought you left me," Jill said softly, suddenly serious.
"I'm sorry I scared you. But I wouldn't leave without kissing your beautiful lips
and looking into your eternally blue eyes one more time, Jill. It was the memory of your
beauty and perpetual love for me that kept me from entering heaven's gates, even though
they were laid open for me. I'd rather live one lifetime with you than face all the ages of
the world alone. I choose a mortal life," Chris said, in his most elegant, serious accent.
Jill giggled. "Arwen said that last line to Aragorn in Lord of the Rings."
"Yeah well.... Have I redeemed myself?" Chris asked.
"Yes. Yes you have, Chris. I love you."
"And I love my PS2. But I love you more."
Jill smiled, then she kissed him, deeply and passionately. Right then, everything
in the world was well.
Author's Note:
*- yes, I am in fact a fan of Michelle Branch. She's soooo dope. She's talented and hot as
hell. It's true, it's true. She's the main reason I play guitar. It's true! Don't laugh at me!
hehe.. :) She's hot, and her music's got a deeper meaning than people like Avril Lavigne..
booo, Avril sucks...
Well anyways, there's the sixteenth chapter. It's a bit longer than the other chapters,
which is always good. I thought a longer chapter was necessary to fully get into
everyone's minds... because I regret to say it, but this'll be the FINAL CHAPTER of
Forever.
*hustler one ducks tomatoes thrown by zealous fans*
Seriously though, I think I've brought the story as far as it could go. I'll definately do an
epilogue, but other than that I think this story's done. That's not to say there won't be a
"Forever: Part 2" but I guess that depends on how many people would be interested in
such a project and, of course, if I can get over my intense laziness. :)
Thanks to everyone who's helped me out over the past year (hard to believe, but it's been
almost a year since I first published this thing). Hopefully you guys will continue to
support my fanfic writing in the future.
Keep your eyes open for the epilogue!
Quote of the day:
"This story is the best story on ff.net!"
-the author
~hustler one
-chapter sixteen
Turn out the lights now
To see is to believe
I just want you near me
I just want you here with me
And I'd give up everything only for you
It's the least that I could do
'Cause when there's you, I feel whole
And there's no better feeling in the world
But without you, I'm alone
And I'd rather be in love with you
And I feel you holding me...
-michelle branch, "i'd rather be in love"
For what seemed like the millionth time, a tear flowed unobstructed down
Rebecca Chambers' cheek. For the first thousand or so, Beccy quickly wiped the tears
away with the back of her hand, but she soon found herself with more tears than she
could wipe away, and soon, she gave up and let the tears fall. Her eyes were red and she
didn't want to cry, but the tears came anyways and she had no choice but to let them out.
Her mother always said she should let the tears out whenever they came, because
hiding them wouldn't do her any good. It was best that she let out her emotions, because
keeping them inside could have potentially dangerous consequences. She decided to
follow her mother's advice.
Two days have passed since the fateful night that saw the S.T.A.R.S. save the
lives of fifty plus hostages. Apparently, she was in a coma for eleven hours before
suddenly coming to her senses. Beccy remembered little of the actual sortie, due to a
combination of her injuries, psychological trauma, and the pain-killers the doctors gave
her which she presumed had some effect on her memory. What she did know was related
to her by Carlos, who rarely left the side of her hospital bed.
"You were a brave soldier, chica," Carlos said a couple of hours ago as he sat
there, talking to her, "a brave soldier. I dunno if I could've done what you did."
Apparently, she had stepped in front of Andy when he fell and took three shots
while she was covering him with her body. It surprised her, because she wasn't quite sure
that she had the courage in her to do such an action. Regardless, she felt somewhat proud
of herself. She was also happy that civilian casualties were at a minimum and overall the
mission was deemed a success. Several members of her Alpha Team were wounded but
not seriously; except for Chris, who was still in critical but stable condition.
Carlos informed her that she was even credited with one official confirmed kill,
which was surprising to say the very least. She had never hit a tango before, let alone hit
and killed one. Must've been a fluke, she reasoned.
The good news ended there, however. After spending what seemed like a lifetime
in the intensive care ward, the doctors had finally come to her and gave her a diagnosis of
her injuries. She remembered that the tears began to flow even before the doctors began
to speak; she could do nothing but clutch Carlos' hand weakly as they gave her her full
diagnosis.
The doctors had informed her then that it was likely that her injuries had left her
right leg severely damaged, to the point where she could only move the leg with the
greatest of effort. One of the bullets had come dangerously close to her spine and while
the doctors were successful in removing it, the damage that it had done to the joint where
her leg met her hip was irreversible. In short, she would walk with a limp for the rest of
her life. Merely walking around would be difficult chore, let alone running. Not being
able to run or jog meant not being able to participate in S.T.A.R.S. sorties, which in turn
meant she was useless to the team...
She buried her face in her hands as the doctors said that she would never get the
green light to engage in a mission ever again. It hit her harder than a sledgehammer; she
wouldn't miss the gunfire or the killing involved with the S.T.A.R.S., but she would miss
the feeling that she was helping someone in her duties as team medic. That, and the
irreplaceable sense of camaraderie that develops between brothers-in-arms.
That's when the tears started, and they didn't stop since then. The doctors did the
best they could to comfort her, but their words, while having good meaning, didn't have
any effect on Beccy. Their words sounded muffled and blurry to Beccy, as if the doctors
were speaking gibberish. Her friends came by, one by one, to comfort and support her,
and while Beccy appreciated the effort, she didn't really gain anything from them. The
tears continued to flow, and Carlos could do nothing but stroke her hair and whisper in
her ear as she cried into her hands.
Now, Carlos had fallen asleep in the chair next to Beccy's hospital bed, his head
lying on the bed itself, while his hand still clutched hers. Beccy was thankful for Carlos;
just two weeks ago she never knew that the cocky "lovers man" she had known for quite
some time would become her closest friend and only support in this difficult time. Carlos
was the closest thing she had to a boyfriend in her entire life. It was sad, but true.
She regarded him now, as he slept peacefully. Gathering all her physical and
mental strength, she got into a sitting position, groaning as her bandaged wounds ached
and reminded her of their presence. She tried her best to not look at the dead weight that
her right leg had suddenly become, and tried to reach over to the foot of her bed, where a
folded up blanket lay. Face contorted in discomfort, she spread it over Carlos' loudly
snoring form. Satisfied that he was comfortable, she returned to her original position.
She squeezed his hand again, and tried to think of positively. So long as she held
on to Carlos' hand, positive things were easy to think of. She forced herself to think of
things other than her injury. It was difficult and for the first couple of minutes the injury
was all she could think of. She thought of all the things she wanted to accomplish in life
that would now be impossible thanks to her leg... fresh tears began to arrive in her eyes,
and they joined the path of the tears that came before them as they travelled down her
cheek.
But Beccy forced herself to be strong, and she gradually began to move away
from the negativity that was plaguing her mind. She forced herself to think of better
things, of better times. Most of the thoughts that circulated in her head revolved around
her five closest friends, most notably the man who's hand she clutched tightly. She
wasn't sure about which turn their relationship would take; Carlos had had many before
her, and maybe many more after her. Whatever the case, she didn't care. Carlos was there
right now, right here, and that was all that mattered.
At the very least, she realised, she was still alive. That alone was a lot to be
thankful for.
Slowly but surely, a smile came to her lips. Another tear came down her cheek,
but unlike the many tears that preceeded it, it was not a tear of sadness.
* * *
On the opposite side of the hospital, Jill Valentine awoke from the dream she had
just had. In it, she and Chris were walking pleasantly down a path in the middle of a
meadow. They were just holding hands and walking, talking about this or that, not doing
anything important in particular. She didn't quite remember what they were talking
about, or where they were walking to. Nonetheless, just being with Chris, even in a
dream, was enough for her.
She rose suddenly, and was extremely relieved to find that the beep-beep-beep of
the machine hooked up to Chris was still working, meaning that for the time being the
S.T.A.R.S. Captain was still alive. She looked at him, his eyes still closed, just the way
she had left him before she drifted off into sleep. It was almost disappointing, because
she was almost sure she felt him caress her cheek and squeeze her hand before she dozed
off. It was probably just a figment of her imagination.
In the fourty-eight hours since the S.T.A.R.S. mission, she had spent about
fourty-six-and-a-quarter of them next to Chris in the small, cramped hospital room that
had become her temporary home. In the time she wasn't next to Chris, (Claire had asked
for time alone with him) she had checked up on everyone else in the team; she tried her
best to comfort Beccy, but Jill knew her heart wasn't fully into it. She took some
comfort, however, in the fact that Carlos was there to comfort Beccy, anyways.
Minutes passed like hours, and hours passed like days. She spent most of the time
whispering nothings to Chris, or humming and singing the tunes to songs she knew Chris
loved. She wondered for a time if she was going insane, and she was almost sure she was,
until Dr.Bryce had stopped by to check up on him in the afternoon of the first day. She
had caught Jill halfway through, of all things, the second verse of 'Everywhere' by
Michelle Branch.*
Jill had stopped her singing as soon as the doctor entered the room. Dr.Bryce
examined Chris' wounds briefly, before making some notes in the clipboard she was
carrying. After a while Jill asked the doctor how Chris was doing.
"If all goes well, he should be okay. You never really know, though... he's not
outta the woods yet. And in the case that he does live through this, he's got a long road to
recovery ahead of him."
"As long as he lives; that's all I could possibly want," Jill stated, matter-of-factly.
The young doctor smiled at Jill. "His life will go through some changes, but he
can easily make a full recovery. It'll take a lot of willpower and determination to get
back into the state he was in before his injuries, but if he really gives it his all, it's very
possible. This, of course, is assuming he makes it through the next few days."
Jill nodded in understanding.
"He's lucky to have a friend like you. A lot of people suddenly lose their resolve
and dedication when they see their loved ones in this condition. But when you see
someone's resolve and dedication _increase_ during times like these, that's when you
know they've got something special. I see that in you and your team, Miss Valentine."
Jill gave Chris an earnest look and his hand a squeeze. "He does mean a lot to
me... Thank you, doctor. It means a lot. Thank you for everything."
"No problem, it's all part of the job," the doctor replied, before brushing a stray
lock of hair out of the way. The young doctor looked tired and downright exhausted, but
she found the strength to smile warmly again at Jill, before making her way to the door.
As she reached it, she turned back to Jill.
"By the way, I didn't know such tough-looking military guys like that could be
into Michelle Branch. I learn something new every day."
Dr.Bryce smiled once more, and headed out the door to check on her other
patients.
* * *
Jill sighed, after the doctor left the room, stroking Chris' hair back for the
millionth time. She let the warm palm of her hand caress his forehead, gazing fondly at
his face with tired eyes as she laid her head back down on the bed. She was still sleepy. A
glance at the digital clock on the nightstand next to the hospital bed informed her that it
was 8:21 in the morning.
Half-wishing for Chris to stroke her hair back and caress her face again, Jill fell
back into the calm, peaceful sleep from which she had briefly emerged.
* * *
Claire Redfield paced back and forth in the Hospital's waiting room. Patients and
medical staff alike walked past her, this way and that. The wounded hostages and the
remaining S.T.A.R.S. had departed hours ago. Barry and the others promised to come
back just as soon as they had gotten a couple of hours of sleep and spent some time with
family. Leon had left thirty minutes ago, promising to return once he had taken a shower
and gotten Claire some clean clothes from her apartment.
Claire herself wasn't sure how she felt about the entire thing. For the first couple
of hours, when Chris' condition was extremely critical, she was extremely afraid of
losing him. Now that Chris' condition was somewhat stabilized, she had calmed down
somewhat, although she knew that Chris was still in danger. She couldn't stand still;
instead, she paced back and forth in the lobby, because at least it gave her something to
occupy her brain with.
Claire was never really one for standing still, anyways. She tried sitting down a
couple of minutes ago, forcing herself to flip through a magazine and listen to the
hospital announcements on the P.A.
"Dr. Hal Emmerich to the Otacon Ward please, Dr.Otacon to the Otacon Ward,
thank you."
"Dr. Wily to the Robotics Lab, please, Dr.Wily to the Robotics Lab, thank you."
"Dr. Mario to the Pharmacy please, thank you."
That didn't work. Claire tried looking around, for something to occupy her...
She had a habit always tapping her fingers, or tapping her foot, or swinging her
legs underneath a chair. She just couldn't stand still. It was often the cause of much
irritation to those around her, especially Chris, who always liked to sit down and think
things over before acting.
It was probably this preference for thought over action which resulted in Chris
hesitating every time Jill and himself had gotten close, Claire noted. She could remember
dozens of times when she saw both Chris and Jill act all teenager-like around each other,
as if they were thinking too much about what to say and when to say it, for fear of saying
the wrong thing. It frustrated Claire, because she always knew Chris had a thing for Jill
and it got her flustered because she couldn't understand why Chris couldn't just do what
needed to be done.
It had all changed that fateful afternoon when Chris had sprained his ankle
playing football and he finally gathered the willpower necessary to spill his guts to Jill.
Claire sighed; that innocent afternoon at the park seemed like ages ago (it does feel like
ages ago... see chapter four -author) but in fact it was only a couple of weeks in the past.
So much had happened, so much had changed since that day. The past two weeks would
dictate the events of years to come.
Both Beccy and Chris had long and bumpy roads ahead of them. Andy and the
other S.T.A.R.S. team members who were wounded (herself included) would carry scars
for the rest of their lives. Not to mention the four Charlie teammates she had lost...
Claire didn't have time to mourn them, and she wasn't sure if right now was the
right time. She didn't really know any of them exceptionally well, but the others did and
anytime anyone you know dies it still has some effect on you, however small. In time,
maybe she could shed tears for them as well, but at the present time she was all cried out.
She stopped her pacing, and looked out the window. Birds flew in the air and the
sky was still blue. She and her friends had just gone to hell and back, but at the end of the
day the birds were still flying and the grass was still green. At times she wished she was a
bird, so that she wouldn't have the cares and concerns she had now. All she would do
was fly, fly away from the city and into the mountains, fly into the valleys and the hills,
fly into the blue, blue sky... fly away from gunfire and injured comrades and fly away
from hatred and fear and pain...
A small frown appeared on Claire's lips when she realised that she couldn't fly. A
tear materialsed in her eye...
....but as she looked out the window, she spotted Leon walking across the patch of
grass inbetween the hospital parking lot and the entrance, obviously unaware that Claire
was watching him. Suddenly, Leon stopped walking when he felt something hit him in
the head. With a disgusted look on his face, he touched the top of his head. His hand
came away stained with a dark substance. Apparently, a passing bird had chosen Leon as
target practice.
"Shit! I just took a fucking shower!" she heard Leon say, despite the fact that he
was about a hundred yards away from her. Several passing hospital employees stopped
and stared at the young S.T.A.R.S. lieutenant, who was beginning to throw a fit in the
hospital courtyard.
Claire burst out in giggles.
"I've always wanted to be a bird," she said softly outloud to herself.
* * *
Elsewhere, Jill had taken a brief break from her vigil at Chris' side to dart into the
hallway. She dragged the nearest member of the hospital staff down and asked him where
the nearest vending machine was; she was hungry as hell and she needed something,
anything, to at least put off her stomach for the time being.
Several minutes and stops for directions later, she found the elusive piece of
machinery in question and fished around in her pockets for change. It was a floor down
from where everyone said it was and tucked in the corner of a fairly large lobby, but she
found it nonetheless. A quarter.. a nickel.. another quarter.. some dimes.. three pennies..
dammit! She was seven cents short for the Cookies'n'Cream bar she so desperately
craved. She put the palm of her hand on the pane of glass seperating her from the
delicious white chocolate with a delightful cookie crunch, as if doing so would somehow
cause the seven cents she needed to materialise out of thin air into her hands.
Suddenly, Leon Kennedy appeared in the room through the automatic sliding
doors, an angry look on his face. He carried a duffel bag slung across both his shoulders.
The S.T.A.R.S. lieutenant was angrily wiping something from the top of his head with a
washcloth, swearing and cursing rather loudly as he did so.
"Leon! Give me seven cents!"
"That sounded like an order," Leon said, "and I think you should know that I
officially outrank you, in the S.T.A.R.S. _Sergeant First Class Valentine_."
"Yeah well, my fist is about to outrank your face if you don't give me my seven
cents."
"Dammit Jill, my wallet's in my back pocket."
A smile coming to her face, she moved behind Leon, and swiftly snatched the
wallet from his back pocket. Rifling through it, she found the seven cents she needed in
the coin pocket... and a twenty-dollar bill, which she stealthily slid into her pocket with a
sly smile as payback for Leon's 'outranking' insult. Satisfied that she had stolen all she
could without Leon noticing -she was a former thief, afterall- she slipped the wallet back
into Leon's back pocket.
"Thanks Leon. I really need these seven cents."
"Bah..." Leon said, before walking off, mumbling incoherently. The odd swear
word was heard as he turned the corner, still trying desperately to wipe God knows what
from the top of his head.
* * *
Jill closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy the sweet taste of the choclate in
her mouth as she slowly made her way back to Chris' room. It was the first real good
thing she had eaten in the past couple of days, and she allowed herself to fully savoir it.
When she reached the room in question, she sat down on a chair outside it, planning to
re-enter once she had finished the chocolate bar with a delightful cookie crunch.
Halfway through the bar, however, she noticed that something was missing. As if
something in the air that was usually there was suddenly absent. Her senses racked her
brain in a vain attempt to find out just what it was... she looked around her desperately,
her years of training telling her that something was wrong. The sixth sense she gained in
Raccoon City's trials was telling her -screaming at her- that something was wrong...
-Of course! Chris' beeping had stopped! She couldn't her the beeping of the
machine that told her Chris was still alive!-
Suddenly afraid that Chris had flatlined, she dropped the chocolate bar and rushed
to the door of Chris' room. Her fingers refused to work for her, and the precious
milliseconds it took for her to turn the doorknob seemed frighteningly slow. As soon as
the door opened, she dashed into the room, worried above everything else that she was
too late, that Chris had died, and without her by his side... No, no, no, no, she said again
and again in her mind, as she entered the room. To her horror, she discovered that the
beep-beep-beep sound was gone, to be replaced by a solid beeeeeeeeep sound, signaling
that Chris had flatlined. Frightened above all words over what she might see, her eyes
darted to Chris' bed...
-to find that Chris was in a sitting position on his bed, the connector that was
supposed to be monitoring his heartbeat in his hand. Evidently, he had disconnected the
machine himself.
"The freakin' beep-beep-beep sound was pissing me off. How do you turn this
thing off?" the S.T.A.R.S. Captain said.
Jill was torn between the sudden urge of wanting to punch the living daylights out
of him, and the intense happiness she had that Chris had finally regained consciousness.
She wasn't sure what expression she should wear on her face, and she ended up standing
there, motionless, her mouth wide open as if in surprise.
"Fuck you, Chris!! I thought you were dead! You fucking almost gave me a
fucking heart-attack!!! Fuck... fuck, fuck you!! Fuck!" she said, the words rushing to her
throat faster than her brain could process them.
The S.T.A.R.S. Captain scratched the back of his head with his right hand, as he
always did when he either didn't know the answer to something or when he knew he was
in trouble.
"Good morning to you too, Jill," he managed to stumble out.
Jill controlled her anger, and, putting all her thoughts of causing bodily harm to
the wounded man aside, she rushed over to the bed and threw her arms around him. She
hugged him tightly, tears rushing to her eyes. Chris grimaced, because Jill's body
pressing against his made his wounds ache, but he bore the pain like any real man should
when an extremely attractive woman such as Jill is giving him a hug.
"It... it hurts," Chris said. He didn't want to admit the pain but it got the better of
him. He sounded like a three-year-old who's mother was putting a bandage on a scraped
knee.
"Oh, I'm.. I'm sorry," Jill said, the wide smile that was on her face threatening to
tear her head in two, "I'm sorry. But you scared the shit outta me, Chris." Tears flowed
freely down her cheeks.
At that instant, hospital staff rushed into the room, Dr.Bryce being the first one to
reach Chris. Upon realising what had actually happened and that Chris had disconnected
the machine herself, she swore.
"What the?" the young doctor said, "the computer told us you were flatlining!"
"Um, yeah... about that.. Uh, the sound was pissing me off," Chris mumbled, still
scratching the back of his head.
For the next two minutes, Dr.Bryce, Jill, and several other hospital staff treated
Chris to a lecture over how you should never disconnect the heartbeat monitor, how
doing so could give certain people a heart-attack, etc., etc., etc., etc. Chris stared down at
his hands, as the people around him scolded him, making him look a lot like a kid who's
hand was just caught in the cookie jar.
When the staff had left, Jill was left with Chris.
"I thought you were dead, Chris," Jill said softly.
"Me too. But I told myself when I was young that I would go see the Statue of
Liberty before I died, and I haven't done that yet, so I decided to come back to life,"
Chris stated.
"I was expecting something along the lines of 'Jill, it was the memory of your
love and beauty were what kept me from falling into the after-life, I love you, Jill', you
bastard," Jill said, trying to pretend to be angry at him but failing.
"Um, yeah," Chris said, "that's it."
"I missed you. I thought you left me," Jill said softly, suddenly serious.
"I'm sorry I scared you. But I wouldn't leave without kissing your beautiful lips
and looking into your eternally blue eyes one more time, Jill. It was the memory of your
beauty and perpetual love for me that kept me from entering heaven's gates, even though
they were laid open for me. I'd rather live one lifetime with you than face all the ages of
the world alone. I choose a mortal life," Chris said, in his most elegant, serious accent.
Jill giggled. "Arwen said that last line to Aragorn in Lord of the Rings."
"Yeah well.... Have I redeemed myself?" Chris asked.
"Yes. Yes you have, Chris. I love you."
"And I love my PS2. But I love you more."
Jill smiled, then she kissed him, deeply and passionately. Right then, everything
in the world was well.
Author's Note:
*- yes, I am in fact a fan of Michelle Branch. She's soooo dope. She's talented and hot as
hell. It's true, it's true. She's the main reason I play guitar. It's true! Don't laugh at me!
hehe.. :) She's hot, and her music's got a deeper meaning than people like Avril Lavigne..
booo, Avril sucks...
Well anyways, there's the sixteenth chapter. It's a bit longer than the other chapters,
which is always good. I thought a longer chapter was necessary to fully get into
everyone's minds... because I regret to say it, but this'll be the FINAL CHAPTER of
Forever.
*hustler one ducks tomatoes thrown by zealous fans*
Seriously though, I think I've brought the story as far as it could go. I'll definately do an
epilogue, but other than that I think this story's done. That's not to say there won't be a
"Forever: Part 2" but I guess that depends on how many people would be interested in
such a project and, of course, if I can get over my intense laziness. :)
Thanks to everyone who's helped me out over the past year (hard to believe, but it's been
almost a year since I first published this thing). Hopefully you guys will continue to
support my fanfic writing in the future.
Keep your eyes open for the epilogue!
Quote of the day:
"This story is the best story on ff.net!"
-the author
~hustler one