The Devil's Bargain

Nine:

Loss of Feeling

Raccoon City, 1997

They circled on the mat; teacher and pupil. He wasn't the guy who'd reamed her and made her best friend "dump" her. He was her teacher, her task master, her unflinching leader.

He was in sweat pants and an undershirt. It was the least clothes she'd ever seen him in. Objectively, he was in incredible shape. There was a honed look to him that spoke of discipline.

She was wearing her typical headband and stubby ponytails. She looked sloppy and young. She felt sloppy and young.

Wesker said, "First, understand the rules of what we do here."

"Ok. What are the rules?"

"That is the kicker and the mistake people make when trying to understand it. There are no rules. There is no sense of it when fighting. There are two choices in a fight: win or die. Understanding how easily one can fall to the second allows us to utilize the desire to adhere to the first."

Wesker paused, watching her, "Now…choose. Which will use to guide you?"

She raced at him. He braced and spun, last minute, swept low and took her feet out from her. She went down and rolled back and he caught her hair, slapped her face, and threw her away from him. She skidded, face down on the floor with her butt stuck up in the air.

Awesome, she thought with the first spiral of rage, just what she needed. The icing on her crap cake of failure. First: she loses the best friend. Second: she loses versus the boss that emasculated him. Third?

His hand came down and smacked. He smacked her, hard and fast, on her pert little butt. She froze, horrified.

"If you stick your ass in the air, Jill, someone will slap it down. Get up. And show me what you can do."

Jill rolled, scissored her legs, and leapt up. She threw a punch, spun a kick, dropped low and tried to take his legs. He met each move, reversed it and kicked her in the chest. She went onto her back, skidding across the floor.

She knew it.

She knew he'd been taking it easy on her.

Jill drove her hands behind her back, humped her hips, and leapt up.

They circled.

"The first step here is admitting you know nothing. You are a baby. A child. To learn, you have to let go of what you think you know. There is no white horse, there is no hero, there is no savior. You are all there is. Decide! What drives you? What makes you? What breaks you? And FIGHT for it."

She rushed at him, leapt, and went into a front tuck. She landed, spun a side kick at him, had him catch her foot and throw her out. She rolled through it, reversed, and rolled under him as he jumped. Her foot came up, her leg drove into his groin, and she grabbed his hips and threw him.

Wesker rolled, gaining his feet.

"Good! But not good enough. Forget that rage! I can see it on your face. Forget it! Rage is a fool's bargain. It's the devil's bargain. It offers lies and destroys. Rage will get you killed. Disconnect it and find your center. Chris? He will never fight like you can. He's in his head, in his heart. He's feelings and hope and loss. Forget him. And forget all of it. The only way to win? Forget how it feels to lose."

She came at him again and he waited, spun back, and drove his hip into her. He jerked her forward, turned her face down beside him, slapped her ass twice, twisted and tossed her to her face on the mat. She laid there, breathing with rage.

Jill rolled to her feet, feeling the fire in her blood.

"Let it go, Jill! It will NEVER complete you. You have to let it become a quiet nothing. Look inside you! To the bottom of that pit of rage. There is a quiet darkness there. FIND IT. EMBRACE IT. And you will become what you are meant to become."

"What's that?"

"…unstoppable."

She raced at him and he caught her, sweeping her legs out from under her. He grabbed her arm, rotated it, stole her breath, and drove his elbow into her back. She blocked it, barely, and he kicked her knee. She went to one before him and he slapped her face, grabbed her throat, and threw her to the side.

She came up, shouting her anger. Shaking his head, he braced for it. She swung at him, he blocked. She kicked, he deflected. She drove an elbow, he jerked her arm to toss her away. She spun a back kick, he ducked under it. She simply could NOT hit him.

He yelled, "Stop TRYING to hit me and take me down! NOW!"

"HOLD STILL!"

And now he laughed, amused. She rushed at him, leapt, locked her thighs around his face and threw her body back. She threw him, shouting with the anger behind it. He hit the mat on his back and she leapt on him, straddling him.

She drove a punch toward his face and he deflected it, caught her arm, and drove his own punch into her exposed side. She gasped, lost her breath, and he rolled. His legs scissored, locked around her waist, and threw her to her back. He climbed on top of her and pinned her arms down. He sat on her legs and hips, holding her there.

He said, quietly, "You fuck on my desk. You fight like a fool. You are a child, Jill, all rage and emotion and immaturity. You aren't worth what I can teach you. Not until you can let go of that which binds you to your own mortality."

Wesker rose off her. He glanced down at her. "Tomorrow. 2 p.m. Come here with the right attitude. And show me what you've learned."

She laid there on the mat, breathing hard.

Awesome. This was her day. Losing. She was just losing. How to Fuck Up: The Jill Valentine story. She rolled to her feet and went to shower off.

The duty day came to a very boring close. They were neck deep in paperwork regarding the witch case. It was all reports and reading and book work. Chris and her? No talking. Not a peep. He spoke to Brad, he joked with Barry. He laughed with Joseph. Her? Zippo.

She got home and threw her keys on the counter. She grabbed a beer from the fridge. She should really go to sleep since they had to be back at work at nine a.m. and it was not after midnight. But she just couldn't. She was so mad. She was pissed.

The more toilets she'd scrubbed, hating men and all penises attached to them, the more they'd trudged through park APART no less, the madder she became. How was this ALL her fault? He was blaming her. Like she'd MADE him do it. It was unfair and it was stupid and juvenile.

Her brain said: "you mean like fucking on your boss' desk?" YES. Exactly like that.

She'd panicked. She wanted to get the love off his face and replace it with what? Something else? The naked time worked like a charm. The desk? That was secondary.

She couldn't have him in love with her. She wasn't good enough for a guy like Redfield. She just wasn't. He was home grown and had love and laughter and light in his life. She was just some thief's daughter that had mostly been invisible her whole life.

It was okay to fuck her, but you didn't marry her.

She paused, kinda hating herself for the thought of it. She had the lowest self esteem in history to openly admit she was second class snatch. Testing the theory, out loud, she said, "...guys like Chris Redfield don't marry girls like Jill Valentine."

Yep. That felt right. But it hurt like hell to feel it.

And then, that bastard Wesker, he'd shamed her on the mat too! When did the shaming stop!?

She was just a girl being punched in the face with failure until she was numb from it. That was her roll in life. Second class snatch, unwanted daughter, dude with tits, and failure. That's what she was.

Chris came in the house silently behind her.

Jill gave him a look that might have withered a lesser man. As it was, it made him feel the chill of it in his balls. He started to fill the silence and she simply pointed at him, shaking her head.

Ok. What did that mean? There was no explaining. She shook her head again to keep him silent.

Jill grabbed her beer off the table and left the kitchen. She slammed her door, loudly.

In the kitchen, Chris winced at that sharp snap. She had a right, she did, to be pissed. He was being…cold. And it wasn't in his nature. But he was mad. He was. He was mad at her. She'd…

"What?" His mind queried. "She what? MADE you do it? She made you fill her out like an application on the boss' desk? That was HER? Or maybe you're mad because you LOVED it. You LOVED being bad for once. And it doesn't sit well with you."

That was it. That was it exactly. Being bad? It flipped his switch. And he liked it. It was heady. It was hot. And it was dirty and raw and wrong. And it had felt really fucking good to do it.

He owed her an apology.

He was a good dude. He'd set it right.

He knocked.

"Go away!"

"Don't be such a girl, Jill. Come out please."

She jerked open her door. "I AM a girl, you sanctimonious prick. In case you forgot. "

"I didn't forget." But he was reminded now. Lord. She was freaking out like she as the queen of PMS city. Of course, that thought alone was making Claire sharpen her claws somewhere. He was careful to think it and not say it.

"Stop treating me like a dude with tits. I'm a GIRL. I do girly things like get mad when people blame me for the fucking we both did."

Chris lifted his hands to her. "I'm unarmed, lady. I come in peace here. Don't slap me down for it. Come out and talk to me. I'll let you kick my ass if you want."

"Shut up. And go away. We're not friends anymore."

He blinked at her. "What?"

"We're not. You're…mean. And stupid. And stuck up Wesker's ass. And I don't want to be your friend anymore. So go away. You…brown noser!"

She slammed the door.

Chris stood there, blinking. Girls. Girls were a PAIN IN THE ASS. Jill was a girl. She was right. He'd forgotten that girls were a pain in the ass. And that she was one of them.

Oy.

He would not be amused. He wouldn't. But her anger? It felt temporary. It felt girly. It felt...misdirected. Who was she mad at here? Usually she'd just talk to him.

But lately? Things were all about fucking and less about friendship. Another thing he NEVER did. He didn't fuck girls he worked beside. THIS was why.

He knocked again. She opened the door. "Yes?"

"Come out."

"No…assface." She closed the door again.

He twitched his lips and tried the knob. She'd locked the door. Amused, he went into the kitchen to find a screwdriver. But the tools were all in Jill's room.

Chris went back to her door. "Jill, you're being a baby."

"YOU'RE a baby! A big baby. You want your daddy to love you so you don't want to be my friend anymore! FINE! Go away!"

Ok. Now she was just being stupid. She was just being a bitch. He didn't like the bitch side of her. The bitch side was too typical. It was too wounded teen. He hadn't dealt with angry bitch since Claire had been about sixteen.

He'd dealt with that phase by locking Claire in her room until she grew up.

He was betting Jill wouldn't let him lock her in her room...she'd just pick the fucking lock and escape anyway.

From the door, her muffled shout informed him, "You LOVE Wesker! You loooove him! You want to be his butt buddy and his BEST FRIEND! TRAITOR!"

"I NEVER SAID THAT!" Oh. He was shouting now. Great. She was making him mad. And frustrated. He was so god damn laid back that this was just stupid. She was being stupid.

He should just tell her to fuck off and forget about her. He rolled the idea in his head for a moment and hated it. Because, bitch or not, she was his girl. She was his best friend. That part wasn't changing, even when she was acting like a drama queen.

"You said to stay away from you! I'm doing that! GO AWAY!"

"I never said that either!" He tried his Dad's approach and just, roared, "Damnit JILL! GET OUT HERE!"

In her room, Jill put a hand to her chest. Oh, oh, oh. His shouting made her heart race. In a strange way, she liked the shouting. The shouting was so very...what? Lion. So very lion roaring. That's what he was, after all, a lion.

But he could roar all day. She was too mad to forgive him.

So she shouted back, "NO! BEAT IT, REDFIELD!"

Chris licked his teeth, considered. He could do that. He could go away. But he wasn't really a guy who did that. He was, however, a guy who kicked in doors.

He informed her, "Last chance, Valentine."

"No! Fuck off!"

"Open this door, Jill. Now. Or I'll come in there and kick your ass."

"You wouldn't dare! Are you deaf as well as a brown noser? I said NO!"

Usually when a girl said no, it meant no. No was fine if he was trying to stick his hand up her skirt. But he wasn't. He wasn't the type to even attempt that. He was a fucking gentlemen.

And she was a big brat. There was only one way to handle a brat.

She needed her fucking fanny paddled. She was ridiculous. She was such a girl in this moment he wanted to run away and burn the house down with her PMS inside it.

Instead?

He reared back and put his boot to the door. It flew open, smashing into the far wall. After all, he loved her...crazy or not.

"What the hell!"

"I said come out here."

"You did NOT just kick my door down!"

"It's what I do. Now GET OUT HERE."

"NO!"

Sighing, Chris moved into the room and grabbed her. She screamed, flailing her arms like a mad woman. He was laughing, laughing, as he threw her down on the bed. He leapt on top of her and pinned all her arms and legs to her sides.

She glared at him.

"You're being redonkulous here, Jill. I said to give me a minute. I didn't say to be a crazy bitch and stop being my friend."

"I am crazy…I'm also a bitch!"

"Clearly."

"Get off me and go away. I'm gonna move out."

"No you're not. You can't even afford a can of spam. Stop being stupid."

"I'll live in a box under the bridge with the hobos!"

And now he was shaking with laughter on top of her. She was rigid, glaring. "I hate your sense of humor, Red. I HATE IT!"

"No, you don't. You love me."

"I do NOT! I think you're stupid…and fat."

He lifted a brow and rubbed himself against her. "That part is true. I'm fat."

"…you are a pervert! Get off me."

"Stop being a brat."

"You're a brat!" She tried to bite his nose when he rubbed his against hers. He couldn't stop the laugh.

This was the most ridiculous moment of his life. But he'd told her what would happen.

Chris laughed again and rolled off her. She started to get up and he tugged her over his lap on her belly. She reared up, horrified, and shouted, "I will cut your hands off!"

He shrugged, held her down with an arm over her back, and paddled her anyway. She shrieked like a banshee, fuming and kicking her legs as he spanked her ass three times before he pushed her off him.

She sat up, fuming. Her face was red with mortification and rage."I hate you, Chris Redfield!"

"No, you don't Valentine. What the hell is this about?"

He watched her climb to her feet and pace, muttering. This was deeper than just him. What had Wesker said to her on the mat? She was acting like a pissed off prom date.

He leaned back on his elbows, watching her. "What's the dealio, Valentine? You ain't mad at me. Who's got you fumin?"

"You! Get out of my room! You are a total brown noser! And a boohoo baby. You don't come in my room and spank me!"

He tillted his head, "Then stop acting like a brat!"

She shoved his shoulders and nearly knocked him over, and roared, "You TOOK HIS SIDE!"

He gave her lifted brows, "Whose?"

"WESKER! You like him better than me!"

Ok. In all his life, he'd never had this kind of stupidity hurled at him. Admittedly, she was so angry it burned. It was lava. It leaked and left you scrambling to survive. But this was a kind of jealousy he didn't understand.

She was angry that he respected his boss enough to step back from her at work? Who got mad about that kind of thing? Why did she hate Wesker so much?

It was too confusing. He tried to reason with her, "No I don't. He's the boss, Jill. We disrespected him. He deserves better than that. You know I'm right."

"You are a jerk! The second he gave you the stink eye, you cowed. You coward! You just let him walk all over you. You're such a peon. I bet you'd follow him into a burning building if he asked and die at his side."

A curious thing to know she wouldn't. He tilted his head at her, "I would. It's called dedication. He's earned it."

"He's earned nothing. He was GIVEN your position as the boss, Chris. It doesn't make him worthy."

Curious again. What was this? What was under the anger? "Alright. What does it take to earn it from you?"

She shook her head, tearing up and hating it. She pointed at him, "Loyalty. You have to give it to get it back...you were on that desk with me. You were right there...you knew what the cost was...but you threw me under the boss the second he started pointing fingers. We were both bad on that desk, Chris...but it's easier for you to blame me and pretend you're the good guy than to admit you liked it. You liked being bad...you just hate that it makes you look like shit in front of him."

Ouch. He sat for a moment, watching her. He hated that she was right. He hated that he'd come from a history of being the good guy to being the guy who fucked on the boss' desk...and loved it. He hated that the second they were called out on it, he'd run from her like she was on fire.

He hated...that she was right to be angry with him.

He reached for her wrist, chastised, and apologetic for it, "Ok. I'm-"

"No." She jerked her arm away. She shoved his shoulder and surprised him. "No. I knew this is what would happen. I knew it. You drew the line here. So stay on your side of it."

Chris blinked, watching her. She left the room.

He waited and she didn't come back. So he followed her into the living room. She was playing the Playstation. He waited, watching her.

She glanced up and gave him the finger.

"So it's like that?" He queried.

She kept the finger up.

"Fine. You don't want to be friends anymore?"

She pulled the little headphones on her ears off one of them. She kept the finger up. "You started this shit show, Redfield. Take your enormous cock and your sucking up and beat it. I have zombies to kill and no time to waste with a guy who is a complete and utter fucking pussy. See ya."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah." She lifted a brow at him. "I'll pay my half the rent. I'll stay the fuck out of your way. I won't even LOOK at you at work anymore. Sense you think it's my fucking fault and all. You and Wesker can become butt buddies and ride off into the sunset together holding hands and wearing stupid glasses. I'll take my disobedience and my slutty little snatch and mind my own fucking business."

He stared at her. She felt him. She finally looked away from the screen.

"What?" And her tone was nasty and mean.

"You're acting like a baby, Jill. Stop being a bitch."

"So? I'm a girl. I get to do that. You? You're acting like I stuck my hand under your skirt, you liked it, and then your mom caught us. Who's the bitch here? At least I know it wasn't just me on that desk, boyscout. Get the fuck out of here."

She went back to playing, putting her headphones over her ears. He stood there, licking his teeth. Fuck it, he wasn't even going to attempt to apologize now. Let her fume on it and be stupid.

He snorted and rolled his eyes, "Bitches be trippin."

She kept that finger up.

That was it. He was done putting his hand out and having her smack it down. She wanted to be roommates? That was fine with him.

Finally, he shrugged and went to his room.

She heard him close the door.

She was shaking on the couch while she played. The bastard. Both of them. MEN. WHY!? First one humiliates her and then the other abandons her and then wonders why she's mad. MEN! Men were the stupidest things on earth. She hated them. If she had any interest in vagina she'd just become a lesbian.

Fine. She'd do what Wesker wanted. She'd do her fucking job and stay away from Chris. She'd fight like he wanted. She'd play the good girl. Her whole life people had wanted her to fit in a certain mold. She'd always gone her own way and she was living with eighteen dollars in her checking account. Somewhere, Henri was proud. She'd become his daughter after all. Nothing to show for her fucking struggles and nobody who gave a damn about her.

The only person she'd loved was in his room acting like she had the plague.

Her mind said, you heard that right? You said love. You said you love him. You said you loved Chris Redfield. And she did. It was true. He was her guy. She loved him. He got her. He made her laugh. He fucked her like he loved her. Had any man ever touched her like that? Like he loved her? When was the last time someone had kicked in her door to be close to her?

She laid on the couch and hurt. She was sorry she'd hurt him. She was. She'd wanted to keep things light between them. But something had shifted. They loved each other. When had it happened? It was what they'd been trying to avoid.

They? Her mind said. When did he say that? He just agreed to your rules.

You said no I love you. Has he said it?

But he SHOWED it. Damnit. And that was the problem. Why?! Because now she loved him too. That BASTARD! That idiot. She loved him. And it made her hate him a little. She fell asleep on the couch with the game on, wishing she was somewhere fighting zombies instead of lying alone on the couch wishing she was with Chris Redfield.