Jill and Charlie started dating after that night. I still saw her, not as much, of course, but she never once let our friendship slip, all in all, nothing changed.

But everything had.

I sat behind my desk at RPD, a month to the day since I'd ran from Jill to protect her. Thumbing through some reports sent up by the Narcotics Squad, some medium-sized operation was trying to establish a human trafficking lane through the city, more shit running the HIDTA (High-Intensity Drug Trafficking Area, if you're unfamiliar.), they were requesting STARS help. I pared it down to the essentials and sent it up to Wesker, while running six side tabs, browsing for intel on anything new across social media and the dark web forums.

My official role was Intel and Medical now, backfilling Alpha's lacking medic slot; thank you, SOCM (Special Operations Combat Medical). I split my off time doing clinicals and ambulance runs for Raccoon General, trying to stay busy and keep my skills sharp. I'd also been eyeing that Physician's Assistant certification, god knew I already had enough credits.

Someone whistled; I looked up to see Chris standing over me, "Hey bud, how's business?"

I smiled, Chris and I had become friends over the last months, once he'd told me he'd come from North Dakota, it was all over, rednecks stick together, bring Forrest into the equation? That's a recipe for disaster, "Not bad, brother, just kicking this paperwork back and forth, trying to look busy for another," I glanced at the clock, "Twenty minutes."

He grinned, "Well, bud, it's Friday, Joe's free, Forrest is in, the last piece of the puzzle is you, feel like stirring up some shit tonight?"

Now he had my attention, "Drinking with you heathens or sitting on my couch? What do you think, man? Where are you thinking?

"Well, what about Jay's?"

I winced inwardly, "Sure, Jay's sound great, haven't been there in a minute."

"Jay's sounds great to start." He corrected me, "It's gonna be a long night, dude, you sure you can keep up?"

"Boy, I was shutting 'em down when you still had to sneak in, fuck outta here."

Chris laughed, "Fair enough, you old sumbitch."

I deadpanned, "Dude, I'm thirty…fucking kids…What time you guys wanna meet up?"

"Around nine, need a ride?"

I nodded, "Yeah, if it's gonna be like that, I don't need to be leaving my bike downtown. Swing through around eight-thirty?"

"Will do, man, I asked Valentine, she's got a thing apparently."

I stared at the wall for a second, "Date with Charlie, I think."

Chris looked like he was gonna comment, but let it drop, "Whatever, the only estrogen will be what we can find along the way then."

"Fucking boy's night out sounds great, man, thanks for the invite."

He scoffed, "C'mon dude, one team, one fight."

I chuckled, shaking off the sharp stick jammed in my heart, "Not sure that applies to getting schwacked Redfield, but I like the enthusiasm."

"Fuckin' A', I'll see you later."

"Right on."

I went back to my paperwork, crossing T's and dotting I's when I felt someone behind me; I glanced over my shoulder, seeing Jill slip in looking a little unkempt, quickly tucking her hair back into place. Charlie was right behind her, strolling past the door in a similar state on his way to Admin.

Get the fuck outta here. Did they just?

I turned back to the screen, unaware that I was white-knuckling the edge of my desk.

"Hey, Mike."

I spun my chair around to see Jill standing there, looking a touch out of breath, her chest heaving a little; no one else would've picked up on it, but I sure as fuck did.

"Hey, Valentine, what's up? You go for a run on break or what?"

Her face got paler, "Why do you ask?"

"Because you're sweating like a hooker in church, dude." It didn't come out like the joke I'd intended it as, more like an accusation.

Pump the fucking brakes, Kelly

"Jill, I'm fucking with you, not as much as Charlie, I imagine…" I wiggled my eyebrows.

"Oh shit Mike, no, that's not… I was helping him carry some boxes you goon."

Hope springs eternal in the human heart.

I held up my hands, "Hey, none of my business buddy, I was about to start clapping."

She rolled her eyes, "Charlie and I are taking it slow, haven't gotten there yet."

A sigh of relief rushed out of me; that'd be a two-bottle evening for damn sure.

"How about you? Anything special?"

I side-eyed the shit out of her as I packed up my stuff, "Val, you know there isn't, as sad as it is, you're the only woman in my life."

I'd meant it as a joke, but the second it left me, I realized what it sounded like; Jill was already giving me a look I couldn't read.

I shot through the budding weirdness, "Well I've gotta go, I'm taking the Salvaro Cartel file home to work on, Chris and the boys corralled me into going out tonight, I'm gonna get home and change, go knock some ladies dead this evening. Maybe I'll get as lucky as you did, huh?"

Her voice was a little strained when she spoke, "Good luck Mike, try and take it easy on them, huh?"

I chuckled, "Not a goddamn chance, Valentine, have a good one." I walked out of the squadroom without another word.

I couldn't get my pounding heart under control until I was halfway across the lobby. Fuck I needed a drink.

I stuffed the manilla envelope in my saddlebags and kicked the engine to life, about to pull out when Jill came flying out of the main doors, making a beeline right for me, carrying a garment bag of all things.

Seconds from a clean getaway

I killed the engine and pulled off my helmet, the black and red bandana I wore under it flapping gently in the breeze, "What's up Val?"

"I'm fucked, my battery is dead, and I'm supposed to meet Charlie for dinner in an hour. Can you give me a ride?"

"Sure, man, hop on." I passed her my helmet, I'd ridden without it enough times, "My place is closer, you can shower there, I've got plenty of time to clean up before Redfield shows, I'll give you a ride to the restaurant."

"This," She slid the helmet on, "is why we're friends."

"So I can play taxi? I do not see the upside here," She thumped me on the shoulder as I eased out of the spot, rocketing off towards my apartment. At some point, Jill wrapped her arms around my waist, leaning her head against my back, for stability, of course, but it set my heart racing. I wished the ride wouldn't end, but it did and all too soon.

I ran in ahead of her, keeping an eye on the time, "Forty-five minutes Jill."

"Now, you're just stressing me out."

"My job, no?"

I unlocked the door, and she rushed past me, shedding her uniform top, the white t-shirt underneath clung to her; she was working on her belt as she turned the corner into my small bathroom.

Son of a…

Was I a complete bastard for checking out my best friend while she got ready for a date? Probably. Did I give a fuck? Absolutely not. I lit a smoke as my shower kicked on and tried not to imagine what was going on in there.

Jill's perfect hourglass figure caressed by the warm spray, the shampoo she was doubtless working on making her porcelain skin slick.

No-go at this fucking station, bud. I shook my head, trying to clear the increasingly arousing images from my mind. I thought about Chinese economic policy until the heat left my cheeks… and everywhere else.

Geopolitics works better than grandma, bank on it.

After few more torturous minutes, Jill emerged, her still damp hair plastered to her neck, but that dress…A strapless dark green number that hugged her curves. I was wondering how best to get it off of her when she walked right up to me, spinning and holding her hair off to the side," Can you help me with the zipper?"

I reached down with shaking hands, getting an unobstructed view of her bare back, cords of muscle flexing as her arms moved; time slowed down as I grasped the zipper, slowly running it up her back, she arched slightly under my touch, or was that my imagination? Until it reached the terminus, just below her neck, she dropped her hair in a flash, and we were back to being friends again.

"Thanks, man." She turned, giving me an eyeful and a sweet smile all in one go, "How do I look?"

Good enough to eat?

"Dude, Charlie's not gonna know what hit him."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes, "Thank man, I'm a little worried about my hair on the back of your bike; I'll just Uber it from here."

Why couldn't she have done that from the station? I left that line of questioning where it lay, forging my way ahead after a quick time check,

"Gotta shower, dude, can you fix your hair out here?"

She nodded, "Oh yeah, do your thing."

I stripped my uniform top, throwing it on the back of the couch, my t-shirt followed, pants would've been next until I remembered Jill was here. I turned and walk down the hallway, undoing my belt as I stepped into the bathroom, her perfume permeating the air; this was the shit I didn't need in my life. I showered quickly, trying to ignore the sharp and sensual floral scent that clung to everything. Moments later, I walked out in a towel, heading back to the living room where I'd left the freshly laundered clothes. Jill was doing her makeup in the big mirror just off-set from the hallway when I walked up, opening her mouth to fire off some quip or another, she stopped when she saw me, eyes flicking over my chest, stomach, and lower through the reflection.

Sneaky, but I'm sneakier.

"Enjoying the view, Val?"

She immediately went back to her eyeliner, and nothing more was said about it. I dressed in civvies, threw some gel in my long-ish hair, some aftershave followed; I was trying to make an impression tonight. As much as it hurt, Jill was doing her own thing; it was about time I did mine.

She was still flicking her gaze in my direction every so often as I stood by the door, clad in a unit t-shirt I'd gotten a long time ago, "Wanted: Ph.D.'s who can win a bar fight!" Plastered across the front, echoing the newspaper ad designed to attract recruits to the OSS back during WWII, a pair of blue jeans I'd gotten from Costco of all places, and my old scuffed cowboy boots. If I was a dope, I'd wonder why, but that unspoken attraction had become mutual if that drunken rant was real. It seemed we were both fighting feelings here. Or maybe my outfit was shit.

I shrugged mentally; I'd been through the wringer over Jill Valentine, maybe it was time to lay it down for good.

We parted ways when her cab pulled up, and I found myself meaning every word of it when I told her to have fun and tell Charlie I said hey.

Maybe I was starting to heal after all?

Chris rolled up a few minutes later. The Silverado was suspiciously empty.

"So, we're riding solo?"

Chris nodded, "Forrest got voluntold for some collateral duty with RPD, Joe wasn't feeling too hot, so he called it. Looks like it's just the two of us."

"Oh, be still my beating heart, a date with Chris Redfield," I fanned myself, "What's a girl to do."

"You're a fucking weirdo, get in."

I jumped in the truck, looking forward to a night where I wasn't tortured by Jill.

A few hours later found us at the third bar of the evening, Jay's had been a warmup after all, so here I was at some hole in the wall called Brixton's, balls deep in a rum and coke, Chris was chatting up a flight attendant from LA. I'd lost the battle to keep my mind off of Jill, and the few girls that approached got shot down without preamble. Chris caught wind of my mood around midnight, right after I turned down a model-model-pretty pre-med student from Colorado State.

"You gonna tell me what your issue is, bud?"

"No issues Chris, just enjoying the solitary life."

"So, it has nothing to do with Valentine?"

I almost choked on my drink, "What? No man, why would it?"

"Because you guys went from being together all the time to her having a man pretty damn quick. She's my partner Mike, I know the gory details."

I sighed, "Fuck it. Chris? Can I trust you, I mean really trust you?"

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head, "Absolutely man."

"Good because this could make shit real weird around the office. I…I'm in love with Jill, I mean bad, I didn't mean for this shit to happen, but it did. It hurts a lot. But now she's got Charlie, and that's that."

"But is it, though? Have you told her how you feel?"

I shook my head, "The opposite, I made it real clear that I didn't feel the same way."

He raised an eyebrow, "Ya lost me."

"Jill told me the first night that she doesn't want to date coworkers, some bad shit went down a long time ago. I tried to respect it because her shit is ironclad; she has good reasons. But now…I don't know."

"Well, I know she likes you; never mind how I know, but I give you my word that you're not the only one. You guys need to clear the air because this is the kinda shit…"

"That eats a team from the inside out," I finished, "I know Chris. This is some high-school shit that I need to lock down, but I don't want her hurt. Can any of us promise that we'll come back after the next call out? If I give in to this and something happens to me, it'd kill her, and I don't even want to think about something happening to her."

He stared into space for a moment, "Way I see it, bud, you've got two options, you either keep eating this and killing yourself over it, or you tell her and whatever happens after that is what happens. I'm telling you you've got a clear shot right to her. She'd say yes, Mike."

He gestured at me with his beer for emphasis, "This fear that you have about maybe getting hurt and how it would affect her? It's baseless because if you love her and she loves you, that's gonna destroy either of you no matter what. But in the meanwhile? If you two can be together and stop whatever the fuck this is? Why not go for it?"

He shook his head, "Honestly, brother? All I see here are two people so damn scared of how they feel that they're letting it tear them apart."

I opened my mouth to speak when Chris's phone vibrated on the table, my own following suit seconds later. Either this was a coincidence or…

Alpha, report in at 0800.

-A. Wesker.

Calling us in on the weekend? Smelled like an op from a mile away.

"Well, there goes the rest of the night," Chris said, but he grinned at the same time.

I grinned right back, "Shame."

Anyone who functions on a tactical team of any kind might tell you that it's all part of the job, but being real? There isn't one of them that doesn't love the rush. I'd rather be kicking down doors than getting laid.

Images of Jill flashed across my mind on the heels of that thought.

Okay, so maybe there were exceptions.

We paid for our drinks and headed outside, Chris called a cab, and I lit a smoke, standing on the curb humming with excitement. The prospect of a mission had washed away my internal turmoil for the moment.

Chris broke the silence after a moment, "Think about what I said okay, Mike?"

And it came rushing back; I nodded but didn't respond as our cab pulled up, we slipped into the back and pulled off into the night.

"Here's what we know, the report forwarded by Mike contained a potential location for a weigh station run by the Salvaro Cartel; after speaking with the Human Trafficking Task Force, it appears that in addition to high-quality narcotics, this location may also hold between forty and fifty women and girls, all of whom are to be sold to buyers around the US, many of whom have already visited the place. We have precious little time to act, STARS has been given the nod to prosecute."

Alpha was assembled in the STARS office, Wesker briefing us on the operation to come. The Salvaro guys were all ex-military from all over South America, much like MS-13, these guys had cut their teeth in the little wars across the continent before realizing that drugs were a much better way to make a buck. Because of this, they landed squarely in our wheelhouse.

"We will not be going in blind; however, Kelly?"

I stood, "Captain."

"I want you to head to the location just ahead of the rest of Alpha; you are to pose as a potential buyer and get eyes on the hostages. The rest of Alpha and elements of the narcotics unit will be standing by for your word. Criminal Intelligence has put it out on the wire to expect someone matching your description to inspect the merchandise. We step off at 1800."

"Understood, sir. Do we have disposition and numbers on hostiles?"

"At this time? We estimate that there are anywhere from ten to twenty bad guys inside."

"ROE's?" It just popped out of me, a relic of the old days.

Wesker regarded me for a moment, "Team's discretion."

Well, that was unexpected, but I let it drop, "Got it, Captain." I sat back down, feeling Jill's eyes on me from a few chairs down. Chris's words from last night came roaring back.

She'd say yes Mike…

Wesker finished up the brief, and we filed out; I scooped up the location information and started back to my desk to familiarize myself before I headed out.

The house was a two-story, they probably kept the girls in the basement along with everything else, but these guys were crafty, better not to assume anything. I thumbed through the photos taken by the Narcs, people coming and going, but this had been a few days ago, they could've packed up shop by now, probably why the Captain was sending me in.

"What do you think?" Joe's voice breaking my concentration.

I looked up and smiled grimly, "It's a shit show, but I'll get as much info as I can before you guys head in."

"You got this man. We'll be right behind you." He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before walking off.

If he only knew.

The air in Pakistan is thick; you could almost cut it with a knife in the big cities, Lahore qualified. I sipped my mint tea, the scratchy shalwar kameez that I wore covered the cut-down AK that rested against my leg. After a moment, a shorter Pakistani came walking up the street, right on time.

I pretended to scratch at my beard, speaking softly.

"Break, eyes on Fareed, heading for target building."

A gravelly voice answered, "Got it."

Fareed was taking a chance, and we all knew it; he was my asset, I'd had dinner with his family more than once, the guy hated the Islamists and jumped at the chance to help CIA get the job done.

He walked up to the two guards, sharing a word or two, and for a moment, I thought we were gold. Suddenly the first guard swung his AK toward my boy, shouting something in Urdu that I couldn't make out. Fareed held his hands up, and the second guard grabbed him roughly, dragging him inside the building.

"Fuck, they made him. We gotta move."

Ray and Connor emerged from the alleyway next to our target building; I dropped all pretense, letting the cameos fall and pulling out my own rifle, charging across the street to the tune of screaming civvies, we stacked up, and I kicked the door. The guards and Arshad were gone, the back door wide open.

Fareed was lying on the rug, scrabbling at his opened throat, blood spraying through his fingers.

"FUCK!" Ray shouted as I crossed the room, dropping to my knees next to the kid.

"'Stay with me Fareed, it's gonna be okay!" I pulled my keffiyeh off and pressed it hard against the hole in his throat, knowing it was futile from the start; whoever had cut him knew what they were doing. He grabbed my hand, squeezing it gently, his eyes stared into mine, wide and terrified. He knew he was dying, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do for him.

He was trying to speak as tears streamed down his face, I knew what he was trying to say, so I slid my hand up and pulled his head against my chest, whispering softly.

"O Allah, forgive and have mercy upon him, excuse him and pardon him, and make honourable his reception."

Fareed shuddered against me, his body seizing as he tried to draw breath.

"Admit him into the Garden, protect him from the punishment of the grave and the torment of the Fire.'

I finished the prayer as he finally fell still…

"Mike?"

In a flash, the dusty streets of Lahore melted into the STARS bullpen, and Jill's concerned face, "You alright?"

"Yeah, why?" I was shaking a little and realized it too late.

Her brows furrowed, eyes searching mine for a hint of what was really going on, "You were a million miles away for a minute there."

She always knows.

"I'm okay, man, just running over the op."

She crouched down next to me, lowering her voice, her hand finding its way to my shoulder, "You sure?"

Her closeness was making it hard to think, and I found it pissing me off a little, "I'm fine, Valentine." I shot back a little sharper than I'd intended.

She pulled her hand off my shoulder like I'd burned her, hurt flashing across her face as she stood. "Okay, Mike… just checking." She looked like she wanted to say more, but walked away without another word.

I sighed as I watched her go. Chris was right, one way or another, this had to end, and soon.

The time came fast, while the rest of Alpha geared up, I jumped in one of the undercover rigs, a 1982 shit-box from the impound, and drove to the spot. The old townhouse was well-kept, in a decent neighborhood, all the better to avoid suspicion. I parked down the street and watched. A guy stood across the street, waiting for the bus, so it looked anyway, he was one of the Narcs who'd been sitting on the house. The house itself was quiet; I imagined they were waiting for me. I grabbed the bag with the false panels, concealing over fifty-grand, I knew this dance well enough.

I took a deep breath and popped the door open, slinging the bag and making a beeline for the front door, making a little bit of a show of looking around, like someone who didn't know enough about how to be a bad guy to be smart about it.

CI's name is Mark.

Walking up the front steps, I caught the curtains fluttering out of the corner of my eye; I raised my fist to knock before the door opened, revealing a well-built guy, mid-twenties, Hispanic, and a bad attitude.

"The fuck you want?"

I allowed a timid note to creep into my voice, I looked over my shoulder,

"Um, Mark told me to come here, I-I brought money." I went to unzip the bag, he grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me into the house,

"The fuck are you thinking gringo? Trying to get us both busted? You said Mark sent you?"

I nodded shakily," He um, he said that you could help with finding a girl? Young?"

I shuddered internally, but if I could get him talking about underage girls, we had them on CP and trafficking, plus whatever drugs were in the house.

He smiled evilly, "How young we talking?"

"The younger, the better.." I trailed off, looking away nervously.

Buy it, you fucking animal.

"Easy guey, no judgment here, how much 'fetti you got?"

"Huh?"

He rolled his eyes," Money gringo, how much money?"

I handed him the bag, "Fifty thousand, Mark told me that was how much I needed, I'll need some time if it's more."

He smiled again, "No hay problema, no worries, this is good. Let's go see the girls, and you can take your pick."

I pretended to be relieved and excited all in one, "How young are your youngest?"

"All the way down to five." He said, turning away and walking further into the house. My vision went hazy for a moment, my head starting to pound.

"Oh, wonderful…" I kept my voice cheerful, thankful even as I followed him, but my hand drifted to the G10 knife I had tucked deep in my jeans. My heart pounded in my ears, I felt ice flowing through my veins.

"Simple op, ISIS has a camp set up for local leaders' concubines, go in and kill everyone with a weapon, Kurds will be on standby for cleanup. Get the woman and children out, special attention to be paid to Amira Fulani; she has the intel we need. Other than that? No, ROE's."

"Make them pay for it, boys."

He banked left and was about to open the basement door when I stuck him twice in the kidney; he started convulsing almost immediately, shock taking over, I clapped a hand over his mouth, pulling his head back and ramming the blade into his neck, twisting and counting to ten as his movements slowed, then stopped altogether. I dragged him into the kitchen area and laid him gently on the linoleum not out of any sense of respect, but to keep the noise to a minimum. I rifled through his pockets and waistband, turning up a Beretta and a spare magazine.

Turning away from the shitbag, I spied a half-empty soda bottle on the counter.

Our infill had gone smooth, I screwed the suppressor on my Glock, the gate guard had no idea what was coming for him. I raised the pistol, the night sights glowing softly under my NOD's as they came level with his head.

I blew his brains out with a suppressed THWAT!

The rest of the guys cheering as they watched the football game never looked up as I caught the sicariounder his arms, blood pouring over my hands obscenely. And laid him on the floor.

We stacked up, Connor gave me the squeeze, and the suppressed Vz58 came up as I pied the corner, two guys playing cards. I shot each of them in the head, moving to the left corner as Ray went right, and Connor came to the center.

"Clear."

"Ali?" Came a voice from the top of the stairs. I turned and fired as soon as I saw a weapon.

The sicario rolled on the floor, a burbling scream tearing its way out of the hole in his throat punched by the nine-mil.

"Kelly!" Someone shouted from behind me. I spun, the Beretta coming level with their head, the slack out of the trigger.

"Captain Wesker?" I dropped the Beretta back to low-ready. The rest of Alpha team was behind him, along with a few narcotics guys. I saw looks of shock and downright confusion, all directed at me.

"Easy, Kelly. It's over."

I shook my head, trying to clear it; I wasn't in Syria, I was in a grungy basement in a stash house in Raccoon. I looked around, the sicario on the floor had breathed his last, the room was packed with cages, five or six children in each, the grime made it hard to tell how old they were. The smell of blood and cordite lingered in the air.

Did I…

Oh…oh, fuck.

A/N:

PTSD and flashbacks are no joke. You feel so embarrassed once it's over, especially if someone was around to see you go batshit crazy for a second. Mike just had a doozy of an episode. This is not emblematic of his behavior from here on out; he's not gonna be some unkillable super Mary Sue badass. He's a highly trained dude that got hit with the perfect storm. If you want some more technical background on Mike and what he did, look up SAD/SOG. Until next time.