The Devil's Bargain

Ten:

Nice Guys Finish Last

Raccoon City, 1997

She woke up before him for work with the game and television off and a blanket on her. She blinked, touching the blanket. It was hand woven and soft. It was clearly his or his mother's. He'd come out and covered her up.

The wonderful bastard.

She got in the shower and heard him getting up. She ignored it, putting on make up while he moved silently behind her in the tiny bathroom.

She made some toast, paused, and made two extra pieces for him leaving it on the counter with a cup of coffee she poured. He saw it, sighed, and packed a lunch for her.

She took the lunch without a word.

She curled her hair and put on her beret. They brushed their teeth side by side without a sound. They came out of the house and didn't ride together. She took her bike and he took his. They didn't gun engines or race.

They just went to work.

She went to the lobby to get some coffee. He went up to his desk. She came up and found everyone working together. She sat down at her desk and started going through files.

There was no whoopie cushion in her chair.

The day found them scrubbing toilets at lunch. She avoided him. He made no effort to talk to her. He joked with Barry. He threw a spitwad at Brad. Joseph showed him the newest Hustler for the month and they made dirty remarks about the women in it.

She and Barry talked about his girls. Moira, his oldest, was taking dance lessons. She was pretty good apparently. He showed pictures and made them laugh.

At 2 p.m. she was back on the mat with Wesker. He could see the sadness all over her today. He chastised her and kicked her ass. She fought half assed and pathetic.

Wesker slapped her face. She drove a kick at him. He knocked her away. He threw an elbow and she surprised him. Even in her stubborn sullenness, she was strong. She caught his elbow and punched him, hard, in the side. He lost his breath.

He lifted his eyes to her face, "What drives you, Jill Valentine?"

She met his eyes. "Today? Nothing."

It was a good answer. She was starting to see the benefits of emptiness. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe losing Redfield would push her to be the best she'd ever been. Maybe she needed to lose the softness in her to find the steel.

Something flickered in him. He considered it, rolled it in his brain. Ah. It was interest. She interested him. More than any other. More than Chris Redfield who was, in a way, his obsession. He wanted to know what drove Chris, what made him, what bled him. But Jill? He wanted to know what it would take to make her turn on everything she cared about. Did she have a trigger?

Could he seduce her to earn her loyalty? Had Redfield won her that way? Was it a matter of human touch and emotion? He could pantomime such a thing. He could woo her and win her to his side. He'd been acting his whole life. But he didn't think it was that easy. The human heart was a mystery to him. He couldn't pretend to know what love was. He didn't feel it. Couldn't understand it. To fake it, he would need to know how to pantomime it. You couldn't fake what was between her and Chris. It was very real. And very interesting.

He'd been intimate with women all his life. He'd pretended to care. He'd even let his body explore itself sexually on more than one occasion. He'd dated to please the eyes of the world and to allow his body to find release. He'd taken Anita Muller to his bed on more than one occasion.

Anita, he mused, what a woman. She'd been young and delightful. She'd been beautiful. She'd come from Edonia with nothing. She was looking for a chance. He was looking for a beautiful woman to hang on his arm. He'd played her like a fiddle. He'd been as fond of her as he could have been given the state of what he was. She'd looked at him with red, red hair and her big green eyes and he'd wanted to, briefly, own her. So he'd put himself between her thighs and satisfied his body and her want of him. And then she'd talked about marriage. She'd mentioned children. He'd been unable to hide anymore beneath the armor of his own emptiness and she'd seen he didn't love her. So she'd run away. He hadn't seen her in…six years. She was, possibly, the only woman that lingered a bit like regret in his mouth. If he'd been able to feel anything, he might have felt it for Anita Muller.

Jill leapt on him and he caught her against his front. He held her there, studying her face. Was that part of this? She looked like Anita. She had the shape of her eyes and her body. She had the fire. Was there some interest in her because of that? He waited for his body to react sexually to her. And there was nothing. No. It wasn't that. But it was possession. He wanted to own Jill Valentine.

He needed her emptied of everything for that. He needed to have something to bargain with. The time would come.

She elbowed him in the face and kneed him in the stomach. He grabbed her arm, rotated, and kicked her in the side. She spun back, spun low, and took his feet. It threw him to his back. She tried to do a heavy knee drop on him and he rolled. He kicked her in the chest and she gasped, curling around the pain.

"I can feel your hate. Who do you hate Jill? Me? Or yourself?"

She rushed him.

He knocked her down and held her there. His pale, pale eyes made her feel broken and weak. He said, "Find your strength, Jill. Or give up."

She said nothing. He let her go. "Tomorrow."

"Fine."

He watched her leave the gym and wondered if he'd pushed them too hard. He turned and there was Redfield, standing in the far doorway. He'd been watching. He'd been there for her even if she'd never known.

No. Not too hard, he mused. Just hard enough. She was Redfield's Anita. Wesker smirked and moved to rinse himself free of sweat in the showers.

Jill went into the women's locker room and showered off. No one stole her towel and forced her to leave the room naked until she found her clothes. No one fucked with her. Because Chris wasn't her friend anymore.

She went back to her desk. They were all there working. She went to the board to work on patterns for the witch hunter murders. She studied diagrams of voodoo and ritual.

Chris stepped up beside her. He pointed, "This is the connection. See?" He pointed out the last two markers. "If they lay two more? They'll have closed the circle."

"Any way to know what or where?"

"I'm working on it."

"Hmm. Good luck with that. Let me know if I can help."

She went back to her desk. He watched her, saying nothing.

They went on patrol. She stayed on her side of the park. A fine rain was falling, splattering her face and hands with cold droplets. The park was large and beautiful. The clock tower loomed above it, offering a view of the coming storm. The clock tower gonged midnight.

She turned back to cross the pretty walkways. A hobo was sleeping on a bench in the rain. Jill found some newspaper and covered him up. She considered and tucked her last ten bucks in his sleeping hands. He opened one eye and smiled at her. She smiled back and patted his dog that stalwartly sat beside the bench.

She crossed the walkways and stopped. Chris was standing there, watching her.

"What?"

"Was that your last ten bucks?"

"Yeah? So?"

"Why?"

"He needs it. I don't. I've sat there on the bench with no roof and no money and no food. Nobody helped me. So I did." She passed by him.

He said nothing but followed her. She threw one leg over her bike and gunned the engine.

"You gonna wear your helmet?" She glanced at him as he called to her over the rain.

"You gonna pretend to care if I don't? Go home, Redfield. I can take care of myself." She peeled away from the curb.

He watched her go and sighed. Girls. Somebody save him from the trouble of them. She was a pain in the ass. Why was he bothering with her?

Because she'd given a homeless guy the only money she had.

Because she gave shit like a man and made him laugh. Because she fucked like a porn star and brought out dirty parts of him he'd never have touched without her. Because she was his best friend in the world. And he missed her.

She was in her room with the door closed when he got home. He threw together something to eat and opened her door. She watched him from her bed where she was reading.

He sat the plate and the sandwich on it down beside her and put a beer on the nightstand adjacent to her side of the bed. He said, "I covered your bike up. The storms supposed to be pretty bad so I covered it and put against the back with mine."

"..thanks."

"Sure. Night."

He closed her door.

She sighed and missed him.

She got up around midnight, unable to sleep, and made brownies. She put a plate with two on his nightstand. He rolled over about 2 a.m. and saw it. He sighed and rolled on his back, watching the shadows on the ceiling.

He shifted out of the bed and went to check on her. She was sleeping on the couch again with the t.v. on. He picked her up and carried her back to her bed, tucking her in.

The storm came and stayed into the morning. They got ready for work. They moved around each other easily. It was fine, Jill mused, this is what people did when they got ready for work. It was what roommates did. They existed but they didn't have to be friends to do that.

She was brushing her teeth and moved aside so he could too. She said, "I plugged the hole in the basement where the leak was. May want to call the landlord though and get someone to fix it."

"I'm sure you did great. I've never seen anyone who can fix shit like you." He spit in the sink and she smiled a little.

"Thanks."

"Sure."

Jill rinsed her tooth brush and said, hesitantly, "Thanks for the sandwich last night."

"You bet. Thanks for the brownies."

"...no problem. Did you...put me in bed?"

"Yeah. You looked cold." He rinsed the sink and missed her frown, "You want a ride to work? I don't like the idea of you riding that bike in the pouring rain."

Touched, she nodded. "Sure. Thanks."

"Yep."

Jill went into her room to get dressed. He sighed and wondered if she'd ever speak to him again like they were friends.

At work, they were friendly and talkative to everyone else. They were polite to each other. They did target practice all morning and Wesker had them cleaning toilets and then running simulations all afternoon.

She was writing down numbers on a report when the STARS office door opened and one of the rookies from Vice came in. She grinned at him. Manny Rodriguez was a pretty funny guy. He was always hitting on her. She was always quick to deflect. She considered and figured today was the day she'd say yes.

Joseph chuckled, knowing the game well. Manny struck out at least twice a week with Jill. Objectively, he was a good looking dude. Tall and thin with a tattoo on his neck of some kind of Mexican catholic thing. But he wasn't pretty enough for Jill. They constantly ribbed her on her love for pretty boys. Ryman had made sense. This guy? No way.

Barry snorted.

Brad was grinning waiting for the rejection.

Jill didn't bother to look at Chris. She grinned, leaning back in her seat now.

"Hey Manny."

"Hey Jill. You gonna let me buy you dinner today?"

"Yep."

Brad choked on his coffee. Barry lifted a brow. Joseph nearly tumbled out of his chair.

Manny, temporarily shell shocked, recovered with aplomb. He leaned on her desk, grinning. She smiled back. "Yeah?"

"Sure. You've earned it. I've got to pull extra duty tonight. But tomorrow I'm free since it's Saturday. You want to make a day of it?"

"You bet. It's the Umbrella Days Parade this weekend. The rain might fuck it up but we can give it a good anyway if you want."

"Love to. How's ten thirty Saturday morning?"

"Awesome."

"Cool. Pick me up at my place."

"Great!" Manny stood up, grinning like a mad man. He left the office the same way. Jill kept started typing on her computer.

The room was silent.

Brad said, finally. "What the fuck man?"

"What?" Jill filled out a word processing sheet with figures, "He's cute."

Barry said, "You've been blowing him off for months. What gives?"

Jill shrugged, "Feels like time to move on."

Joseph smirked, "Ohhhh. You were seeing somebody. Things go bad?"

"You could say that. We…had a difference of opinion on what was happening with us. He pulled the plug. So I'm bouncing with it."

Joseph nodded, "That's the shits, Valentine. Been there. Mary? She dumped me last week. Bitch. I bought her a fucking ring."

Barry slapped his shoulder sympathetically, "Dude. I wondered. I'm sorry man."

"It's cool. She was a total rag lately anyway. I'm following Jill. I'm gonna go get some easy ass and forget her."

Jill smirked, "Right? Forget giving a fuck about the person. Just go out there and get laid."

"Preach it." Joe turned back to his simulation. Brad snickered. Barry was playing Tetris now.

She felt Chris watching her and ignored him. She worked on her witness reports for the burglary on Bleaker Street. She didn't have mat practice with Wesker on this rainy Friday because he was away on donor recruitment business with Irons.

So at 2 p.m. she went instead down into the lobby to sit by the fountain and take a break. She leaned on it and ran her fingers through the water. She watched the rookies milling about like lost souls. She thought about what she was doing here.

She was moving on right? That's what this was. Chris had drawn the line, she was just giving him the space to stay on his side. Her mind said, he's been trying to make up with you. Don't be a bitch. That was…true. Maybe it was time to make nice again.

She rode with him to the park. He parked the Bronco and she said, into the quiet car while the rain pounded around them, "I'm sorry."

He glanced at her face. She met his eyes. "I'm sorry about being a rag. You hurt my feelings. I overreacted."

Chris shook his head and tried to touch her…and she leaned away. It hurt him. So he drew back from her. He said, quietly, "I'm sorry too. I am. It wasn't your fault. I wanted to go in that office. I wanted to do it. I just blamed you because I'm a fricking asshat who can't take responsibility for his own stupidity. It's not you. I'm not mad at you. I wish you'd stop being mad at me."

Jill smiled a little, "Not mad. Just trying to be a grown up and stop pouting. Friends?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"Cool. Let's do this." She leapt out of the Bronco.

He sighed. He rolled his neck. He ran a hand over his mouth. Fuck. This is why you didn't fuck your friends. What a mess. He opened his door and got out.

At midnight, they gathered back in the Bronco and rode home. He wanted to hear her laugh. He wanted to hear her say anything that was real. He fucking missed her.

She went off toward bed and he grabbed her hand. She looked at his face. "Stay. Please."

"Ok."

"I need help with the zombie dogs."

Jill watched his face in the dim light. She sighed and sat down beside him on the couch. They played the zombie game together.

"Go LEFT." Jill shouted at him as he played.

"I went left!"

"No. You went around the LEFT BEND. If you stay there in the garage? That stupid bitch in the dress comes out and kicks you."

"Well maybe she shouldn't be running around a parking lot in a dress and four inch heels. What kind of idiot fights zombies in a dress and heels?!"

"What kind of idiot just stands around fighting zombies?"

"Right? RUN."

"I'd never run from zombies. I'd make them my bitch."

He laughed and she shifted a little on the couch. Her head settled on his shoulder. His laid on hers, just a little.

They fell asleep on the couch playing the game. He woke up in the early morning light to find she'd covered him up before she'd gone to bed. He sighed and missed her.

The rain had lessened when she came out of her bedroom for her date that morning. He was in the garage hitting the heavy bag hanging there. The soft and gray light from the open garage door spilled in as she stepped out to wait for Manny.

His hands were taped and his torso naked and sweaty. She watched him hit the bag like he'd kill it. His form was technically perfect. He jabbed, hooked, swung and moved around it like a boxer. She watched those muscles bunch in his arms, back, and stomach. She stood near the garage door and smoked a cigarette.

He paused, panting and cooling down. She was in some excuse for an outfit. It was a little red thing with straps and no bra. No bra. Her perky full breasts in something that silky and nearly underwear. She shifted, watching the rain, and he could see the thigh highs she was wearing and the clasp for the garter belt that was clearly on those perfect hips. She had on some kind of strappy black shoe that made her legs look ten feet long.

Jill had done something to her short dark hair so that it was all curly and twisted up around her face. She had enough eyeliner and make up to highlight those cheekbones and the brilliant blue of her eyes. She lifted a brow at him. "What?"

"Nuthin. You look good."

"Thanks."

"Nervous?"

"Nope."

A bead of sweat rolled down his neck and settled in the suggestion of hair on his chest. They held gazes. A silver Mazda pulled up and idled in the street and honked.

Chris lifted a brow. "What a guy. Honking so he doesn't get wet."

"Some guys don't like getting wet I guess."

She glanced at him soaked in sweat. He held her gaze. No bullshit, she thought, damn him. "Some guys do."

"Yeah. Until they get a spanking for it. Then? They're just like the rest of them."

Ouch.

He shook his head, laughing a little. But it wasn't funny. It was just bitter. "Have fun, Jill."

"You too." She tossed the cigarette. "See ya."

He kept on hitting the bag long after she'd gone. Why? What was happening here? They'd said sorry. It was done. Why were they still of course here? What did she want from him?

His mind said: what do you want from her?

Well he loved her. And he wanted her around. What that meant? Who knew.

And he didn't have time to worry about it. Claire was pulling up in the rain. He watched her leap off her bike and grin. She ran into the garage, pulling off her helmet. He grinned, watching her.

She had the longest hair of any girl he'd ever met. The red ponytail trailed against her butt as she moved to hug him. And stopped.

"Ew."

"Thanks."

"Whatcha doin home on a Saturday?"

"Workin out. What else? What about you? No dudes dangling off your fingers this weekend?"

In her jeans and a motorcycle jacket, his baby sister didn't look like a baby anymore. She was all grown up and beautiful with it. She leapt up on the workbench he had and lit up a smoke. He eyed her, disproving.

"Pfft. You want one?"

"…yeah." He took one and they lit up together. Somewhere their parents were judging them for it.

Claire grinned, "Only room in my life for one boy today, Redfield. Where's your better half?"

Chris shrugged and grinned at her, "Date."

Ah. Claire studied his face. That was the pain there in those eyes. The big squish. He was all about that girl. Why weren't they just together already? She inhaled a long drag of that nasty cigarette she was smoking.

"Hmm. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Surprised, he met her eyes. "Come again?"

"Don't be a doofus, Chris. What are you doing? Just get the girl."

"She don't want to be "got", Claire. Think I can make her want me?"

Claire looked at him, considering. She shook her head. "I've seen her look at you. She wants you. Why aren't you together?"

"It's not what she wants."

They moved into the house together and Chris closed the garage. Claire followed him into the living room and they flopped on the couch. She tossed her jacket in the recliner.

"Says who?"

"Jill."

"Not to put too fine a point on it but I don't think she knows what she wants."

"No. She's a fucking mess." He turned on the game and they played together for awhile. She laughed as the female character in the game was blown up by a grenade.

"That's what that bitch gets for wearing a dress."

"That's what I said man!"

Chris burped and offered her the plate of nachos they were sharing. Claire took one and scooped up some jalapeno cheese. She glanced at him, "What's the rule on farting?"

"Fire in the hole, kid."

"Cool."

She blasted the sofa with one and made him laugh. He loved her, the little shit. She put her head on his shoulder as they shifted to watch reruns of Saved by the Bell.

"You love her." Not a question. She just said it. He sighed.

"Yeah. Not that simple though. I promised her."

"Chris, slow and steady is good for a race where you're holding a spoon and carrying an egg. But when it comes to love? Slow and steady gets you stuck in the friend zone."

Chris shrugged but stared at the pouring rain beyond the window. "Well that's what you wants."

"She's a fucking idiot than."

"Stop it. She's not."

"You deserve better. Forget her. And go find a nice girl to marry."

"Shit…now you sound like Mom."

Claire laughed a little. He lifted his arm and she moved under it. She could tell he needed a hug. She put her head on his chest. "I miss them."

The rain started to pick up, sounding thick and heavy now on the roof. He said, quietly, "Me too, kid. Me too. Every fucking day."

"They'd want you to be happy."

"I'm happy."

"Pfft. Liar."

"I'm mostly happy."

"Then go take what makes you happy, Chris. You and I both know there's nothing in life worth waiting for. Go get it. Or you'll be forty five one day and watching the woman you love marry the wrong guy."

It was a frightening thought. He wondered what kind of ugly mess he'd be when he was that fucking old. Probably a fat security guard in a mini mall somewhere with eight kids and a pudgy wife that nagged him all the time. Scary.

The scariest part? He wanted his pudgy nagging wife to be Jill.

It was a hard road being a guy who kept his promises.