Eighteen:

Friends without Benefits

So, what happened when Chris Redfield broke your heart? Apparently, it meant that you moved back into your own bedroom. Apparently, it meant you mowed the grass alone. Apparently, it meant you took Dog on hikes alone. Apparently, it meant no one stole your meatballs. Apparently, it meant you didn't laugh. You just didn't. Ever.

A man true to his word, Chris didn't stop trying to be her friend. He still joked. He still whoopied her all the time. He still filled her coffee cup with fake spiders to make her scream when she came back from the bathroom to find them floating in her coffee. He still cooked; he still cleaned up after her. He just didn't touch her.

Ever.

Not even a hug.

She did the best she could to return that effort. She understood why he'd done it. She got it. Logically, she got it. But the logic was having trouble in her heart. Her heart said: you know why he did it. You know why. Because you begged him to hurt you, he did, and it nearly got you killed. It wasn't his fault. It was yours. You keep pushing him past his comfort zone. You keep pushing him to do things he wouldn't do for you. You keep testing his limits…and yours. And his limit? His limit is losing you.

He'd rather have you in his life anyway he can get you then be with you. That's how much he loves you. He can't love you and be with you. He can't. Because you keep making it too hard.

It had been hard. Too hard. And it had been AMAZING. The timing had been bad with the witches. It had been really bad. But she hadn't died. She hadn't. She kept hoping he'd see that and come back to her.

But weeks went by and he didn't.

They were still running down pieces of the cult that had been trying to raise the dead in that clearing. They'd gotten a base of the cultists pretty solidly in the ambush. But the leader was eluding them. No one was talking. They were interrogating with little success.

On the mat with Wesker, she was at her best. She was, literally, out performing his best expectations. Without Chris to distract her, she was doing what he'd asked of her: removing the emotion to focus on the purpose.

She was a little alarmed that she hadn't cried, not once, since Chris had left her. It was like she was…what? Numb? Empty? She was something. And that something had Wesker respecting her in ways she'd never felt.

Apparently, getting your heart broken by Chris Redfield meant gaining the respect of your boss.

It was a painful trade.

One afternoon, about three weeks after he'd dumped her in that shower, she was coming off the mat after a sweaty session of training versus some of the guys in Vice and she came upon Kevin Ryman again. He moved over to offer her a bottle of water.

Jill took it, breathing heavy. "Thanks guy."

"Yup." Kevin was so handsome. What had Chris said? Pretty boy. He was. He had all that shaggy hair and big blue eyes. His body was rockin too. Lots of muscle. He kept trying to get into STARS and failing. Lord knew why. But Jill was betting it was the attitude. Kevin wouldn't do well with "absolute obedience".

They'd had a great date actually. Awesome. He was funny and fun and flirty. And she'd shot him down because she wanted to get home to the guy in her house with the soft sweats and nothing underneath.

The guy who'd left her in the shower to protect her.

Big god damn hero…big god damn idiot.

Jill said, "You want to go out again sometime?"

He'd been thinking the same thing. Jill Valentine was probably the coolest chic that had ever been born. She was no bullshit. She was funny and drank beer from a bottle like a dude. And her ass was legendary to those trying to grab it. She hung around with Redfield too much but that seemed platonic enough. And Kevin wasn't a man that worried about romantic complications. He liked a person, he went out with them—end of story.

"Yup."

And Jill laughed now and touched his arm.

It felt really good to laugh.

Back at her desk, she was leafing through victim profiles trying to find a link between the who and the what and the why that Wesker was always shouting about. They were varied and far reaching. The why was clearly trying to raise the dead. But what was the purpose of it? Destruction? To what reason?

Trying to fall into the friendship standard again with him, Jill lifted her head in her little beret and spoke to him, freely, for the first time in weeks. "Have you found a tie between the victims and the cult?"

Chris paused with his coffee halfway to his mouth. It was the first time she'd looked at him without something haunting her eyes. Staying away from her was killing him. He was pretty much dying for her 24/7. But he wouldn't stand there and watch their relationship get her killed, fired, or wounded. Being together had almost done all three.

Maybe she was starting to realize that too.

But he fucking missed her like the other piece of himself.

He rubbed his ear now, considering. "The victims at the last ritual were all minors."

Jill nodded, studying the reports again. "They were. The body they were attempting to resurrect was comprised of adult parts though. So they weren't harvesting pieces from the children. They were just…"

"Using them as hornless goats."

Curious, Jill lifted her brows at him.

Chris sipped his coffee and lifted a finger to give pause to his thought before he pulled one of the books on his desk and gestured. Jill came around the desk and bent down to look at what he was gesturing to in it. "The hornless goat is sometimes what practitioners of dark magic refer to a human sacrifice. Usually, it's found in voodoo to replace the actual animal offering. But I think, in this case, they were trying to offer sacrifice to raise the Destroyer to inhabit the body they'd created. The Destroyer prefers the sacrifice of innocence. What better than children, right?"

He was so fucking smart. She forgot sometimes when he was cracking jokes and being funny. But he just got it. What they were doing here; it just clicked for him. He was following the lines with that brain that was always seeing ten ways the threads could tie together.

She read all about the human sacrifice over his shoulder. He offered her his coffee and she took it without thinking and had a sip. For the first time in weeks, they just talked. They talked about witches and bitches and baby killers. They moved to the corkboard to go over the ties that wound between the members they'd arrested and the victims. They tried to find the link.

They needed to cut off the head of the snake to stop the body. How did they find the head?

Joseph moved over at one point to join the conversation. Barry was close behind. They spitballed. They tossed around ideas.

Joseph offered, "Community leader maybe?"

Barry returned, "Like a church deacon?"

Chris considered that, pacing. "I can see the community leader idea. There's no better way to hide then in the public eye. Think about how easy it is to get away with murder when there's no possible way people would suspect you. Bruce Wayne made the perfect Batman because he was SO visible. Hiding in shadows is for vampires. Killers like this would crave the attention."

Jill studied the faces of the dead on the corkboard. She looked at the locations. She followed, with her finger, the red yarn that made the paths. And then she started to trace the pattern Chris had shown her that night she'd nearly cost them their job. She traced the symbol in the book he'd shown her.

And she said, softly, why the other three continued to suggest potential leaders. "Not a church deacon. A Priest."

There were three heavily attended Catholic churches right in the MIDDLE of the symbol she was tracing with her finger. She turned back to face them; eager with excitement. "A PRIEST, Chris. Look!"

She gestured with her finger. "It moves around these three major hubs of Catholicism. That's the thread. That's the tie. One of these churches has the leader. And he's not a member. He's a leader there. He has to be. He's trying to destroy while he leads the flock into the darkness. I bet all the victims will be members of one of these three churches."

Chris was watching her face while she talked. Don't underestimate yourself, he'd said to her once, he was right. She had the goods. She was just trying too hard to pretend she didn't.

Joseph said, "You think they'll all be members of the same church?"

Jill sighed, considering that, "Maybe? But that might be too obvious. We need to start investigating the congregations though. We should sit in on masses and try to see what lessons the priests are teaching. I think that's where our head of the snake is going to be."

From the doorway, Wesker said, "Brilliant, Jill. And I agree."

They all jumped, startled by his arrival from his office. They'd been so busy brainstorming that they hadn't even known he was there. He moved toward them, smiling. The pale, pale, pale blue of his eyes was always arresting when he didn't wear his glasses.

He stood between Chris and Barry and Jill realized the three of them were exactly the same height. She had to think about that for a minute. Somehow Wesker always seemed so much taller than everyone around them. But they were all…what….six-one? Joseph was the shortest of the group standing there. Well, besides Jill of course.

Wesker was leaner with Barry being the biggest, mass wise, but Chris was the most toned. His arms were flexed without even trying. It was clear he was still lifting, still doing god knew how many push-ups a day, and trying to pack on the muscle he was always chasing.

Wesker studied the board. "I want each of you in civilian clothes to attend Sunday mass at each of these churches. We can't risk going to each service. Brad? You will come with me to this St. Mary's. Barry and Joseph? I want you to attend St. Patrick's. Jill and Chris? Sacred Heart. Let's see if we can discern our enemy by bearding the lion directly in his den."

At the end of the workday, Jill emerged from the STARS showers in jeans and a little blue top that was spaghetti strings and silk. She'd slicked her hair and thrown on enough make to highlight her beautiful face.

Joseph whistled as she grabbed her jacket from her chair. "Date?"

Jill chuckled a little. "That's the rumor. How's Maggie?"

"Great. How soon is too soon to propose?"

Jill studied his guileless face. Joseph was such a gossip. He knew everything. He could tell you everyone's business sometimes before they knew it. Hiding her relationship with Chris from him had been difficult. But he was a good man at the core of it.

"You love her?"

Joseph grinned. "Like it's killing me."

"Then it's never too soon, my friend. The only real failure comes by not giving it your best shot, Joe. Propose. If she's worth it? She won't run." Jill slipped on her jacket.

"And if she says no?"

"Well, then you're better off. Nobody wants to hitch their wagon to someone who runs when things get hard. Right?"

She could FEEL Chris looking at her. She knew it was boggy ground here. But it needed said. He'd spent so long chasing her. He got her. And he ran away. She had a right to be pissed at him. They both knew it.

"True story. That's Valentine. You want to be my best man?"

Jill chuckled and grabbed her keys from her desk. "I'd love to."

"Awesome."

Jill left the office, jingling her keys. Kevin was waiting in the lobby. He had on an old leather bomber jacket in a good cowhide brown. It worked with the white t-shirt and jeans he wore. It worked with the cowboy boots he sported beneath them.

Jill grinned at him. "Dinner?"

"You read my mind."

In the office, Chris rolled his stapler in his hands. Well, it was clear where that arrow had been aimed. In one hand, she was right. He had run. But he had good reason. He did. Right? He had a good reason. They were good friends here. Loving her had nearly killed her.

If that wasn't a good reason...what was?

He grabbed his keys and moved into the lobby. And there she was, leaving with Kevin Ryman.

…shit.

The swell of jealousy pissed him off.

He wasn't a jealous man by nature. And yet he was always chasing her around because of it. It was fucking degrading. He'd pulled the plug on things. It made sense she'd move on.

Why did it hurt so fucking bad?

Chris went home to hang out with Dog.

Dog was watching Will & Grace when he came through the door. Jack and Karen were hee-hawing about some stupid joke. It usually made Chris laugh. Tonight, he bypassed the television and went right out to the heavy bag. Dog followed him into the garage to watch him.

Chris tossed his shirt over his workbench and started taping his hands. "What's the answer here Dog? Seriously?"

Dog chewed his bone, watching him.

"I'm so fucking nuts for her. But that guy? He had her on the ground with a knife in her. A KNIFE. Because her body was all kinds of fucked up from me. I hurt her. I did that. And what? She expects me to just…" Chris hit the bag so hard that his arm went numb to the elbow. Dog kept on watching him, judging. "She just wants me to forget that. Or get over it. How? How do I forget? If I wouldn't have gotten to her, she'd be dead. DEAD, Dog. Do you hear me?"

Dog woofed softly.

"Yeah. You hear me. So why can't SHE hear me?"

On her date, Jill swirled her drink in her hand. Kevin had a perpetual five o'clock shadow. It was part of his charm. It was sexy. He was sexy. He was clearly intelligent and funny and friendly. She should be kinda crushin on him.

But Chris Redfield rolled in her gut like lead.

How did she get him out?

Kevin paid the check. He walked her to her car.

"So, that's how I became Ryman the red faced wienie."

He'd been telling her the story of a childhood prank gone wrong. Jill laughed a little and leaned on her car, watching him. Kevin added, "The chicken in this story was clearly antagonistic. I'm just sayin."

"Clearly."

"Clearly."

"Hey, Ryman?"

"Hmm?"

"You want to kiss me?"

"Yup."

And they both laughed.

Jill grabbed his jacket and pulled him toward her. They kissed; smooth and wet. It was a good kiss. He knew what he was doing. He was good with the pressure and he didn't try to lick her tonsils. All kinds of right tongue and teeth and suck.

She should take him home.

A few months ago, she'd have taken him home and fucked him stupid.

What had changed?

Well, of course, she knew what had changed. She'd taken a ride on a freight train. And now it was all she could get her head to wrap around. They separated from the kiss.

Kevin cupped her face. "You gonna let me see you again, Jill?"

And Jill grinned at him, "Yup."

She rolled in about midnight. She could hear him out in the garage beating up the bag. Dog barked out with him to signal he knew she was home.

Jill grabbed her cigarettes and went out into the garage. She hit the release to raise the door and lit up a smoke. Dog rubbed against her legs for a pet.

"Hey, pal. You been good?"

Dog woofed his answer.

Chris grabbed the bag to halt the swinging. He was all sweaty and yummy. A lock of all that hair of his fell in his eyes. He pushed it out, watching her.

"Good date?"

"Actually yeah." Jill leaped up on the workbench and sat there smoking and petting Dog. "You been out here all night?"

"Off and on, yeah."

"You should find a nice girl and give her a ride on the freight train."

Shit. SHIT. He'd been afraid she was going to say something like that. And he hated that it made him ache to hear it. He studied her face to look for anger. But there was none. She wasn't being catty. She was just being Jill, his buddy. His pal.

His regret.

And Chris Redfield HATED regret.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's gotta be better than wasting your Friday night beating up the heavy bag."

"I was hanging with Dog too. So, not wasted."

"True story." Jill petted the mutt and played with his floppy bacon ears. He was her guy. He'd given her a dog to make her smile. He'd punched Greg in the face. He'd backed off to protect her. It was time to let him go back to being her guy and stop trying to make him her man. "Thank you."

Surprised, Chris stopped hitting the bag again. "What?"

"You were right. I hate it like hell. But you were right. We can't keep what we're doing and work together. This is better. So, we move on. And we do it with no hard feelings. We gave it a shot right? We didn't get into STARS to tank our careers and hurt each other. So, let's just hit the rewind here and stop doing that." Jill leaped off the table, stubbing out the smoke. She tossed it into the coffee can beside the garage. "No hard feelings here, Chris. Ok?"

Jesus.

Cheese and rice.

Is this what he wanted?

Maybe. But it felt like a punch in the dick. "…ok."

"I've been saving up some money the last few months. Give me a couple more and I'll get out of your hair here. Thanks for letting me squat though. In hindsight, living together was bound to make a mess right? Kevin was telling me that an apartment in his building should be coming up soon. It's pet friendly. So we can split Dog between us after that." Jill moved toward the house. "Don't hit the bag too hard, big guy. I don't think it can take the full power of the freight train."

She closed the door quietly behind her.

Chris hit the heavy bag with everything he had.

Saturday morning she was gone by the time he dragged his hungover ass out of bed. He'd finished hitting the bag and gone straight for the beer. Dog and Chris had sat outside on the hood of the Bronco. Dog sat on the ground, watching him.

Across the street, the neighbor kids were jumping through the sprinkler.

His mouth felt like sandpaper and cotton. He fucking knew better at his age than to fire back a twelve pack. But he was grieving…or something. Yeah. He was grieving. Because she was ok with it being over.

And he was fucking aching for her.

The motorcycle rolled up the driveway and his baby sister leaped off.

"Heya, butt breath."

"C-Bear."

She was wearing her little motorcycle jacket that he'd given her. She sat her helmet on the tail of the bike. At least she was wearing it today. She'd chopped off a bunch of her long hair. It was just past the shoulders.

"Whoa, kid. Where's the do?"

"Donated. Charity. You know for kids with cancer?"

His C-Bear. She had a heart as big and wide as the ocean. Chris patted the hood and she leaped up to sit by him. She didn't have to ask. She knew. She'd run into Jill in town.

Claire wrapped her hands around his big arm and put her head on his shoulder.

He dropped his cheek to her head.

"You want to talk about it?"

"….nope."

"Mmmk." Claire kept on holding on while the kids across the street laughed and jumped and played. "You want me to kick her ass?"

And now Chris laughed. He laughed. And kissed her forehead. "Nope. Not her fault. This one? All me."

Surprised, Claire glanced up at his face. "What did you do?"

"Let her go. It's the only way I can protect her."

Claire studied his face. He looked so much like their Dad as he got older. It was insane. And wonderful. He acted like him too. All selfless and soft. The big squish.

"You idiot."

Chris blinked at her. "What?"

"Did she ask you to protect her?"

"You don't ask someone to protect you, Claire. You just do it."

"You're a dumb ass, Chris Redfield."

"Dually noted."

Dog woofed on the ground. Claire looked him. She blinked. Dog blinked. She put her hand out and petted him. He put his head on her knee.

"You got a dog."

"I did."

"….you got a dog for Jill Valentine?"

It was stupid how well she knew him. The little snot. He sighed. "I did."

"….I love you, Chris."

And now he laughed. He kissed her forehead again. "Thanks, kid. Ditto."

"You know she's bumming around with that hot cop right?"

"I know that."

"You're ok with it?" She studied his face.

No. No, he was NOT ok with it. At all. Not even a little bit. He was not ok with it at all. What he was, was resolute about it. He looked like shit, felt worse, and made her soften with love for him.

"I bounce, C-Bear. And I will bounce here too. She's not mine. Not anymore. So she gets to do what she wants."

"She gets to do WHO she wants?"

Ouch.

"Yep. That too. Part of the package."

"Chris…apologize and get her back."

"Can't do it. It was the right thing to do, Claire. Sometimes the right thing hurts like a fucking punch in the face."

The big hero. Always screwing himself for the safety of those he cared about. It was admirable. And stupid. He deserved all the love in the world. Why was he running from it?

Claire kissed his mouth, gently. He looped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. And the pounding in his head was his only comfort.

They went to mass on Sunday. The service was interesting. He wasn't Catholic but his mother had been. So he'd been to a few services in his time.

The Priest was engaging. He spoke of hellfire and brimstone. He spoke of redemption. He offered the body and blood of Christ. He offered parishioners the chance to confess their sins and find their absolution. The flock loved him. They yearned for his approval.

Chris studied him, trying to decide if he was their guy.

A younger Priest, he was handsome and guileless. The intensity with which he preached God's message was interesting. He made you want to believe him. He quoted scripture, he referenced Revelations, he mentioned Jesus and his death on the cross. He spoke of the holy trinity.

Chris thought: Are you killing people in your spare time, Father?

The Priest left the dais and the congregation began to break up. Chris rose in his suit and headed toward the doors that led outside. He moved down the stairs to the Bronco and climbed in. Jill climbed in the passenger seat a moment later.

Her Sunday best was pink and virginal. It was unadorned and simple. And it made him hard to look at her in it. Her dark hair was clipped up in a style that looked artless and easy.

They watched the faithful stop and laugh and talk. The priest moved amongst them, shaking hands and laughing. Jill finally spoke into the silence, "What's your gut tell you?"

The Priest stopped and touched the hair on a little girl. She smiled; big blue eyes and happiness. And his hand lingered…just a moment too long.

"My gut says he's the guy."

Jill replied, quietly, "Yeah. That's what mine says too. What now?"

Chris opened his car door and leaped out. Surprised, Jill watched him walk toward the priest. They shook hands. Chris, adorable in his rumpled suit, dwarfed the shorter man in sheer size. But that wasn't it. It was how he engaged him. Chris made the priest laugh. Chris made the priest comfortable. Chris just did that. With everyone. With strangers, with friends, with girls…with terrorists. He just put you at ease.

She fucking missed him.

He came back toward the Bronco shedding his suit jacket. His shirt sleeves were perfectly ironed and crisp white. The collar of the button down was left open. He opened the car door and tossed his jacket in the back seat. He climbed into the front, talking, "Oh yeah he's the guy."

"Yeah? How can you be sure?"

"He preens. Priests do lots of things. They don't preen. He's full of shit and loving it." Chris sat down in the seat.

And the sound of farting filled the interior of the car.

He blinked.

Jill blinked.

She'd whoopied him. She'd put the whoopie under his car seat cover. She'd whoopied him at a church.

Jill watched his face. He watched hers. And she giggled.

His eyebrows went straight up into his hair. "…what was that?"

Jill turned toward her window. She said, "Nothing. I laughed."

"You giggled, Valentine. We both heard it."

"Don't be stupid. Drive the truck."

He cranked the engine and pulled away from the curb. After a long moment, he laughed. And it felt really good to laugh. He'd missed laughing with her. She was his best friend. It was more than missing the taste of her. It was missing her laughter and her humor and her good will. He didn't just love her, he enjoyed her. And it cut both ways.

He just wasn't sure how they set it right.