- Wait for me - Yearn for me-

Whispering Pines

Jill woke first.

She opened her eyes to the gray fog of a rainy day. A sweet, soft rumble of thunder accompanied her awakening. The room was filled with extraordinary, misty light. She lay for a moment, listening to the rain on the windows and the roof and watching what lay in the bed before her.

Ben had rolled at some point. He had one arm looped around Leon's neck, and one leg hooked on his hip. It was a sleep hug if she'd ever seen one. He snored adorably and snarfled a little bit with big breaths. Leon was still on his side, facing her; one arm pillowed under his head and the other draped over the boy who cuddled him.

It took her a moment to realize the hand pillowed under his head was still wrapped around hers. Their fingers were intertwined and aligned. Her free arm was looped over the both of them. A sleep hug indeed. They'd dog-piled together in the enormous bed and held on.

Jill shifted, making sure not to disturb them, and her thumb traced Leon's mouth as it went. Sound asleep, he still kissed it, moving a little as he resumed that quiet breathing. He didn't snore. She had no doubt that it would be adorable if he did start snoring.

Jill slid out of bed and moved toward the closet. Hunnigan hadn't lied. She'd left them with a closet full of clothes. An assault bag was tucked on the floor that would most likely be filled with weapons.

Jill fingered a silk blouse and sighed a little. She gripped a silky, satiny robe off one of the hangers, slipped it on over the nightgown, and went toward the stairs to get some coffee. Hopefully, the kitchen had some. She'd seen the expensive Keurig waiting to brew her a delicious cup of liquid delight.

The smell of roasting meat and brewing coffee hit her when she turned the stairs. She finished her descent to find Helena in the kitchen cooking. Helena was fully dressed for the day. She wore a little white tank top beneath a brown buttoned-over shirt. It was paired with camel-colored khaki skinny jeans tucked into knee-high, rich brown leather boots that hugged her curvy calves like a second skin. Her shoulder and thigh holster made a cute outfit, rugged. Whatever else was true: Helena was rocking it with style.

She turned when she saw Jill approaching. And her smile was soft on her pretty face. Pretty, Jill thought objectively; she reminded Jill of Lara Croft. She had that rich dark hair and full lips. Those lips were shiny without gloss and looked bee-stung. They were so plump. She was beautiful. It had gotten lost somewhere in the rush to safety, but Jill was taking a moment to look at the girl who'd traveled so far with them. The girl that had lost her sister after trying so hard to save her. The girl that had betrayed the President in a mad attempt to protect the only thing in the world she'd cared about.

Jill smiled at her and moved forward. It was a good hug. Helena looked like she needed the hug. She held on for a long moment, breathing softly. The sadness on that pretty face made Jill hurt for her. A good girl, she was too young for such grief. In the light of the day, she figured Helena was likely in her young twenties. No lines on her face, no wrinkles, no gray hair. Pretty and young and already in the Secret Service. She'd had a promising career before Simmons had come to take it away.

They separated, and Jill rubbed her arm a little. "Better after some sleep?"

Helena nodded and offered her a cup of coffee. Jill laughed, poking her unruly blonde hair behind her ear, "I'm dying for some. Seriously."

They sat at the table and shared eggs and bacon, and coffee. They talked about Debra. Helena told her about her transfer from the CIA to the Secret Service when Debra's abusive boyfriend had put her in the hospital. In turn? Helena had shot him.

They held eyes. Helena said, "Yeah. I walked in…he had her on the floor. He just…kept hitting her. So I shot him. No warning. Nothing. I drew down on him and shot him in the back."

Jill gripped her hand on the table and squeezed. "I would have too. Trust me. I've done worse, Helena. Much worse."

"They transferred me to a desk jockey job, took my weapon, made me a glorified gopher. When Hunnigan came along to recruit me, I was thrilled. I'd already had one mark against me for using excessive force on a murder suspect. Honestly, I figured I was done. And then to be rejected from the D.S.O.? I figured I wasn't just done…I was fucked. But Hunnigan interceded for me and got me transferred to the SS. I served faithfully. I had no clue Simmons was pulling the strings to get me promoted or redirected. And when the time was right? He took Debra and blackmailed me."

Helena shifted and put her face in her hands, rubbing her tired eyes. "I can't take back what I did, Jill. I wish I could. All I can do now is finish Simmons, clear your name and Leon's, and try to fix some of the damage. I'll serve time when it's all done; I deserve at least that. But I can't until Simmons is dead or in custody. I can't."

Jill gripped her hand again. And she answered that desperate look. "I was in the control of Albert Wesker for years. He injected me with a compound that eradicated my free will. I became his puppet. I became his weapon. He infused me with power and made me kill for him. A lot of what happened to me is classified; I can't tell you exactly what happened. But I can tell you I'd take it back if I could. I'd take it back. I couldn't control myself, Helena, but I was still aware. Sometimes? We can't stop things from happening. All we can do is try to clean up the mess we've made when it's over."

Helena nodded, eyes teary and hurting. "Yeah. Yeah. Exactly. You get it. Thank you. I can't ever pay a high enough price for what I've done…but I can't try to set some of it right. It's all I can do now."

Jill shook her head and held that teary gaze, "You lost Debra. You've nearly died. You're still trying to fix it. You've paid the price already, Helena. Stop punishing yourself. Forgive yourself, Helena. It's time."

Helena made a sound of grief and put her face in her hands to cry, so, so quietly. She whispered, "I don't know if I can."

Jill shifted around the table to hold her close. They clung together while Helena sobbed. And Jill answered, stroking her hair. "You can. You'll find a way. I did. You will too. You will, I promise you."

When Helena had cried herself empty, Jill left her napping on the couch and went upstairs to get dressed for the day. She hoped Helena would come out the other side of her grief better, stronger, and unstoppable. A good girl, she'd done the wrong thing for the right reasons. Didn't they all sometimes?

They were still waiting on Hunnigan to call with a plane for them. Jill went into the master bedroom where she'd showered the night before and laid the robe on the bed. She slipped the nightgown off and mourned the comfort of it.

She didn't deny herself another shower, though. She stepped into the heated spray from all twelve shower heads and sighed. The spill of it felt so good on her skin. She knew once they began hunting Simmons again, it could be a while before she had another hot shower.

Once, a mission with Chris had left them high and dry without bathing for a week and a half. They had not been best friends by the end of it. They had been stinky friends, though. They'd also avoided each other on the helicopter ride to safety when it was done. Opposite ends of it. It had been…pretty raunchy. Chris smelled like feet and sweaty balls when he was filthy. Her? She'd smelled worse.

She didn't think Leon Kennedy would have been sniffing around her then. Nope. He'd have run away wincing.

Jill soaped up her legs and bent down to wash her feet.

Later, she'd think there was a reason they called him the Ghost. You didn't hear him unless he wanted you to. He moved like shadows and secrets and smooth, sensual need. He moved like something you tried to catch, felt slip through your fingers, and spent the rest of your life coveting.

She rinsed her toes and saw the water shift around her feet. There were suddenly four feet in the shower. Hers wasn't even the cutest, she mused with a little smile.

She started to turn and rise, and he turned her into the wall, planted her hands on it while the spray hit her in all the right places, and slid into her body in an almost single, excellent, bone-numbing move.

The Ghost - he wasn't a ghost. He was a demon - he'd come to call her soul from her body with his touch. It answered and spilled out of her mouth on his whispered name. It swirled around them with the water. Where had he been all her life? Inches away, seconds away, a shadow...no...a ghost.

Her body just…it opened for him. Like a glove, it fit around the length and girth and feel of him with a precision that stole her breath and spilled it from her mouth in a soft cry. He murmured her name, tilted her hips to him, and rode her body.

Yeah, she thought, a ghost he was indeed. He was going to haunt her forever.

A facile, fluid, tongue-rolling kiss finished them off. Jill shivered in the boiling water and whispered, "I love you."

It was, hands down, the best sex he'd ever had. Where had she been all his life? Inches away, seconds away, a shadow..no...a dream. He'd dreamed of her a hundred times in his life. When his world was falling apart, when there was no light to break up the dark...he'd seen her. He'd been looking for her all his life.

He scooped her hair out of her face and smiled at her, "I bet you say that to all the guys."

And now, the laughter bubbled up in her. Jill chuckled softly and hugged him to her. "Only the ones that take me bungee jumping make bad jokes and have perfect fucking hair."

Amused, he eased her to her feet on the shower floor to rinse her off. "Is it perfect? It's my thing, I guess. I've had it cut like this…essentially…for so long that I think it's like my calling card now. Maybe it's outlived its time. Maybe I should cut it off."

Horrified, she turned to face him. And he laughed a little at the look on her face. "Or maybe not."

She washed it for him now, running her fingers through it. "Don't ever cut it. Ever. The last time I saw you…was probably ten years ago."

Interested, he met her eyes while she soaped his hair for him. "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Chris threw had that birthday party at Claire's place for her. You showed up with…some redhead." He was having an epiphany. And it was a big one. Her face flashed in his mind and hung out there.

Tongue in cheek, he made a face as he tried to recollect it. "Hmm. Don't remember the redhead. Throw me a description here, Officer Valentine."

Jill recited, "The Perp was approximately five foot two and a hundred ten pounds. She had fake red hair all teased around a witchy face, a big long nose, and stingy little lips."

Leon stroked her smooth ass while she rinsed his hair, laughing a little. "How can you remember that? I don't even know who she was after all this time. A friend of a friend or something."

"Ah…I don't forget faces. And yours? It resonates."

He opened his eyes as she finished. And the look on her face humbled him. "What a thing to say. You remembered my face?"

Her hands traced it now, thrilling him and rocking him in his soul. "Oh yeah. It's a helluva face, objectively."

He caught her waist to drag her into him. His hand lifted to cup her face now and stroke it. "Yeah? Yours is better. Jill…I remember you now. The minute you said it, I figured out why that day in Tall Oaks when I looked up at you…I felt like I'd known you all my life. We met in Raccoon City before the outbreak. I went there to interview. You needed help changing the tire on your little motorcycle that broke down…in front of the c—"

She grabbed his face and laughed, loud and excited. "The clocktower! Oh my god. That was you! I remember now too. Skinny little thing you were with all that shaggy hair. I remember thinking you were so adorably awkward. You dropped the tire iron twice and kept muttering under your breath."

Grinning, he kissed her neck and brought her breath out in a sigh. "That was me. I was so nervous. I didn't know how to change a fucking tire. I was totally guessing. I was trying to impress you. You had all that dark curly hair. And your face….your face, Jill…it stayed with me."

She touched her mouth to his and loved him. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Honey? That face of yours joined Madonna in my sweaty sheets at night. I changed your tire, went home, and jerked off, picturing your face."

Oh, he was something. He turned a phrase, made her laugh, yearn a little, and made her love him in one statement. Jill laughed and kissed him, soft and smooth, "Really? Was it good?"

His laugh was muffled as he nibbled her neck and shoulder, "It was good, kid. Seriously. I came so hard I fell off my desk chair, racked my knee, and blew my load all over the ceiling. Not my finest moment, but it was all your fault."

And so she laughed. She burst out laughing and held him. And she pictured him bumbling along and blowing his load on random ceilings. It was so comic it almost hurt. She quipped, "Mr. Kennedy...are you blowing your load on things? What an image. I don't think that's how you fight zombies."

"No? You don't think so? I could have blasted one and knocked its head off that day. I nearly blew my own off whacking it." And then? He laughed. He just laughed while holding her; his laugh was almost as incredible as his face.

Jill pulled his face back to see him. He was all grin and teeth and looked sated, rested, and happy. Did she look the same? She hoped so. Because she was, she was happy with him. She loved Leon Kennedy.

Whatever else was true. That was how it was.

"That's very dirty, Mr. Kennedy. Are you often known to have your hands in your pants after changing girl's tires?"

"Not generally. But when they were jaunty little berets, and they keep leaning over my back and pressing their tits on me? It's known to happen."

Jill made a hmm noise. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held. "There was no tit pressing, you devil."

"Oh, there was…there was. You just don't remember. Because you weren't looking at me. You were looking at the idiot Redfield."

Smirking, Jill leaned back again to hold his eyes. "Was I? You want to know a secret, Leon Kennedy?"

"I'm dying to know one."

She put her mouth to his and whispered, "I've been changing my own tires since I was fifteen years old."

Oh, the surprise on his face thrilled her. His eyebrows winged up. "You clever little thing. You let me change that damn tire, and you didn't even need me to?"

"Not even a little bit." She nipped his mouth while it spilled into a huge grin. "I liked watching you bend over. I was watching your ass. When you left? I had to redo it. I had to put the tire on right because you'd done it all wrong. I didn't care. I watched your adorable little ass in those jeans you were wearing for half an hour while you tried to help me. So it was a win/win for me."

He reached behind her and killed the water. It tickled and tingled around them as it finished rushing for the drain. The sudden absence of sound was startling. Jill was still grinning. His eyes volleyed over her face, darting back and forth while he studied her.

She said softly, "I might have gone home and had a party to your face that night…and that ass of yours."

He loved her. He just did. It spilled into and out of him in a laugh that healed them both. They held in the shower, slick and naked and happy. Leon mused, on a chuckling breath, "The funny part about that will always be that the night before, I drove into Raccoon City and had my first…and rather only…shift on the force..."

"Mmm?"

He carried her from the shower while he talked. He didn't even strain. She was a good one twenty and muscled. He carried her like she weighed nothing. And she liked it. So she let him take her into the bedroom and lay her on the bed. He bounded next to her and stroked her belly and thighs almost absently. It was that petting thing he did.

"So the night before…I got fucking hammered. I mean, I just tore it up. I closed down two bars and lost a shoe. I pissed on random stuff. I walked down the street with a bottle of scotch singing Irish fucking drinking ballads. I woke up half in a gutter missing my wallet and keys. I might have been robbed. I might have thrown them, given them to a hooker, or simply dropped them in a storm drain. I was so fucked up I don't even remember." He watched her face where he was braced on one arm, petting her. Jill lay on her back, stroking his face with one hand and the mound of scars on his shoulder with the other.

"My girlfriend dumped me. She pulled the trigger on me and left my poor little-wounded heart all kinds of broken."

Jill's eyes flared, and she grinned. She traced his mouth. "Poor baby cop. The saddest boy around. What a fucking idiot she was…thank god."

He grinned and kissed her. "She didn't want to move to Raccoon City. What a dump, she'd yelled. She wanted to marry a Kennedy. Didn't I know I was supposed to be a senator!?"

Jill giggled a little, delighting him. He scooped her close to him to feel her softness and the taut muscle of those legs on his.

"So, she cut me loose. The sad, tragic story of a boy that tried to drink away his pain." He mused this without any rancor. He didn't have any feelings about that girl anymore. He hadn't really had any then that he could remember now. He knew how he felt about the girl in his arms, though. That part was pretty straightforward. "I get wasted and woke up late for work on my first day. Worse than that?"

Jill lifted a brow as his hand stroked her smooth little butt. "What's worse than rolling into Raccoon City while it burned?"

He laughed, and that look on his face…would it ever stop making her feel about fifteen years old? She wanted to hold on to him naked for a hundred years.

"Well," He grinned again and rolled until he was on top of her. She opened her legs so he could snuggle right up against her. His arms bracketed her head, and his hands cupped her face. Hers lifted and stroked over his biceps. "Hung over, I poured my ass into the shower, and it wasn't even my girlfriend's face I pictured while I soaped up and knocked one out."

"No?" Her belly fluttered, "No wonder she dumped you."

He laughed and swept her hair off her face to see her. "It was yours. Your face, Jill Valentine, that day in Tall Oaks when I said we should both picture it? I've been picturing it for years. And then one day…I looked up, and there it was. And now I get to see it every minute."

Oh god.

Her heart stuttered and dropped.

He smiled at her, the cheeky little shit, "You were with me in Raccoon City after all. That day by the clock tower, you gave shit like a man, poked fun at me, and made me want you. You were in uniform with that beret and those ugly blue pants. And you were beautiful. I didn't get your name that day. I realized that went back, but you were gone. I asked at the station about you, but they looked at me like I was nuts for even asking. I couldn't find you…but I never forgot you."

He'd known her for three days.

He'd been looking for her all his life.

She was his ghost. She'd been haunting him for fifteen years.