Summary:
Jill Valentine should have died from her fall from the cliff in 2006 and in many ways she did. Upon arrival of the BSAA and Chris Redfield to Africa in 2009, Jill was freed from the grip of Albert Wesker. Only, freedom isn't free for someone like her.
After a year of testing that concludes in 2010, Jill Valentine has been cleared to return to her normal life. But Jill can't forgive or forget what she's done and the compassion she receives from those around her rings hollow. When the nightmares of her dreams follow her into the nightmare of the present, Jill can't help but think of one man. She never told anyone how much she dreamed of Carlos Oliveira; she never told them how much his memory saved her from losing her mind entirely.
On her search for Carlos through South America, Jill encounters one of the oldest evils of civilization. Humanity.
Bioweapons required the utmost consideration when fighting against them. But men? Men were just men, and they bled every time for Jill Valentine.
Chapter 1: The Rhamnusia
Fairbanks, Alaska was cold in January of 2010 and the drab colors of snow covering the trees outside of Jill Valentine's window wasn't something she was going to miss.
It had been a little under a year since her extraction from Africa and from underneath the control of Albert Wesker. The first few months had been the hardest; sometimes the dreams convinced her that none of her freedom was real.
Battling beneath the surface for three years, Jill had been brought back to health by her former S.T.A.R.S. captain after her fall and was used over and over again for what now lived in her body.
During those years with Wesker, there were times when the pain became too much, and she would forget everything that had happened. When Jill would open her eyes and see the familiar face staring back at her, she would weakly call out to her blond captain for help, and in response he would laugh.
Seeing Chris Redfield in the streets of Africa in 2009 had been Jill's first rays of hope. The familiar slope of his shoulders and the hardened face that stared at her from behind her mask were nearly enough to allow her to regain control.
Partner, her mind raged. Safety, her heart screamed. Save me, her soul pleaded. Kill me, her wishes vowed.
"I would have expected you to be happier to see us," Wesker had said to Chris before he had yanked her hood off during their altercation.
"Jill, come on! It's me, Chris. Snap out of it!" I can't, she had screamed on the inside. "Wake up, Jill Valentine!"
The familiar cold of the P30 rushing through her system was something she'd never forget. Her tolerance had only gone so far, and with Wesker's daily influence, the suggestibility that the P30 drug was derived only became stronger and stronger with her frequent dosages.
Chris had brought her back to the surface. Waking up in the arms of her partner was a whole new nightmare for her. Her own actions or not, she had killed a great many people in Africa and that wasn't going to wash off.
As much as she had wanted to be the one who joined Chris and ended the nightmare once and for all, she hadn't deserved it. After she urged Chris and Sheva on, she was found by Captain Josh Stone, and they had contacted the tanker before eventually joining Chris at the volcano site.
Former Captain Albert Wesker of the Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. had finally fallen and it was a sight that Jill remembered in vivid memory; Alpha team had always been coming for him.
"A future worth fighting for; a future without fear." Chris had shared with her when they touched down at the BSAA Headquarters in Alaska after leaving Africa. And how he smiled.
It wasn't a smile you should give a murderer. It wasn't accountability, nor was it redemption.
For months, Chris would visit the Alaskan base to check in with her while they ran test after test and counseling session after counseling session for her recovery. Chris' delivered looks had been kind, patient, and reassuring. The gentle touches to her arm and shoulder burned as did his hopeful words.
A Fitness for Duty Assessment was performed last when the months were starting to wind down. The BSAA was reinstating her name, and no longer was she listed as Presumed Killed In Action. Chris had also informed her that the empty gravesite they had placed for her had been removed.
Part of Jill wanted to tell him to have them keep it up, but she could never voice this to Chris.
Everyone around her did their best to convince her that the blame didn't lie on her. It lay within the firm and dead grasp of Albert Wesker. However, that mattered very little to Jill when the dreams showed her the faces of the dead African citizens. Albert Wesker was gone, and he wouldn't be carrying the knowledge of their crimes.
She did though.
"Ms. Valentine," The counselor would speak when the long silences went on in her sessions. "What you went through…It's a lot to hold for anyone. Many soldiers experience trauma through psychological warfare. It bears repeating that your case is unique. We can't yet know how the psychological effects will be measured."
The nightmares in her dreams continued and led to the nightmare that was slowly becoming her waking life.
One voice always came through though and it always seemed to soothe.
Jill had shared quite a lot in the months of her rehabilitation, but she hadn't been able to tell them everything. Some of it from grief, and some out of safety.
Sometimes, while in Wesker's captivity, she would dream of the past. It was an escape her subconscious would afford her when the days became especially bad.
She never told the BSAA how much she dreamed of Carlos Oliveira—she couldn't when he was supposed to be hiding.
She never told them how much his memory saved her from losing her mind entirely.
Jill had relived a lot of her past in the years she would do Wesker's bidding without control. Carlos' voice had always seemed to come through the strongest.
Without even realizing it, Carlos had saved her again, but this time it had been from her own mind.
When she and Carlos had escaped Raccoon City, Michigan in 1998, they had made a stop at a local hotel on the docks of Carp Lake Landing, Michigan. From her side, she had contacted Barry Burton for extraction and further update to Umbrella's movements.
Carlos had made his own phone calls.
It was then when they both realized they had the same contact that had been feeding them information. Carlos had been in contact with Trent; the same man who had warned her about the Spencer mansion before the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team had taken off in July.
"Where will you go?" she had asked Carlos then while they stood at the edge of the docks.
"I don't know," he responded quietly while he studied her. "Maybe back home somewhere. Don't think I'll be recognized, but there's always a chance... You could come with me, you know."
A small part of her had wanted to, but she hadn't known the cost of the fight against Umbrella then. After Arklay and Raccoon, Jill and the rest of the remaining squad had a duty to see justice for themselves and for their citizens. At the time, Jill had seen it as the coward's option. For her, she wasn't allowed to run.
"I can't do that." She had turned away from his warm gaze and clenched her fist at her side.
"Hey." His large hand was wrapping around her bicep, and he turned her back towards him. "That offer stands if you ever change your mind and want a vacation."
The looks he had been giving her since the chopper had touched down seemed to be different and yet the same. Jill knew he had begun to trust her and even more, he respected her. The heat in his gaze was a man who admired a comrade but if Jill was being honest, it was becoming more than that.
"A vacation?" she had asked with a somewhat forced smile and a scoff. She allowed his hand to stay wrapped around her arm.
"Yeah, Supercop, a vacation." his head tilted while he gazed at her. "Even you deserve one of those once and a while."
"Are you an expert on what I deserve?" Jill asked before something beeped at his hip.
Carlos' hand was still on her arm when he dropped his eyes from hers and glanced down at a communicator.
"When are you leaving?" He asked when he turned those dark eyes back on her.
"Barry will be here in the morning. You?" She responded not backing down from the challenge his eyes seemed to bid on.
"Right now," he breathed. "But I can wait until—"
"No," she choked out, not missing a shift in his gaze. She couldn't afford to get distracted. No matter how much she wanted— "You should go. This place is going to be swarming soon and I don't want them to find you."
"Letting a perp go?" He grinned before releasing her arm and laying the back of his fingers against her cheek. "Maybe that vaccine is starting to wear off after all."
"You're not on my list, Carlos." Jill admitted with a true smile shining through. She resisted the urge to lean into that teasing hand.
"That's a shame." Jill's eyes widened slightly at his admission. The fingers slid from her cheek to grasp around the back of her neck, and he was stepping into her before he pulled her forward in a hug.
"Wouldn't mind the chase. Don't forget me, Jill. You can find me any time." He murmured into her ear.
Jill fisted her hands into the back of his black vest when she returned the hug. Tears threatened to spill and looking back on it as she was now, she didn't understand then how much Carlos had earned her trust. In the storm of Raccoon City, he had been a salvation Jill didn't know she had been missing.
Lips were pressed into her hair before Carlos stepped away and turned toward the edge of the docks. His gait was assured, and he didn't turn back to view her before he disappeared around the side of the building and walked out of her life.
With hope in her eyes and vengeance at her back, Jill had let him go to chase down what would eventually destroy her—
A knock at her bedroom door in the BSAA laboratory building brought Jill all the way back to the present. She still stood at the window and the tears on her cheeks were colder than the snow that blanketed the world beyond.
She would find him now, she decided.
A vacation sounded nice.
"Jill." Their boot falls echoed in the large hall that connected the dormitories to the main labs in the BSAA's northwestern building while she and Chris walked. "Are you sure about this? If you give me a location, I can at least—"
Jill turned her eyes toward her partner and stopped in the hall.
Jill could see it in his eyes then. The fragility in which he regarded her; the victim he saw her as. The woman he had to release from her own purgatory.
Chris Redfield had absolutely saved her from her fate, but his compassion was a prison she didn't know how to navigate now.
"No," she said shortly. "I need time, Chris. You can understand that, right?"
"You're not telling anyone where you're going. You just got released and we just were alerted to a series of disappearances in Western Australia around Philosophy. Rebecca is—" Chris' tone was rising, and Jill was thankful to hear the anger creeping into his voice.
"Have my accounts been reactivated?" she cut him off, starting her pace once more.
"I—yes, Jill. Everything is up at the front like you asked. Hey—" His hand was curling around her bicep and Jill winced at the memory it brought on.
"Are you alright?" Chris asked, bringing her closer while he studied her features.
Jill felt her face crumbling before the memory of her former captain whispered through her senses, "Why the tears, Valentine? For which do you mourn? The life you missed out on or the life you had interrupted?"
The cold mask Jill had taken on for years now slid back over her features like she had been trained to and she didn't miss the look of true concern Chris displayed from it.
"No, Chris." she admitted quietly. "I'm leaving."
"When are you coming back?"
"I don't know." she pulled her arm back and touched the spot softly with the opposing hand.
Chris' Adam's apple bobbed. "You are coming back, right?"
Those winter eyes Jill had come to know for nearly a decade were boring into hers and for a moment she allowed herself to see the future he would lead her into.
Chris Redfield had been one of the most honorable men she had ever met even at the ripe age of 22 when she had joined the S.T.A.R.S in 1997. He had spent his time in the U.S. Air Force while also raising his younger sister before he threw himself into police work. Ever since the Spencer mansion incident, Chris had been hellbent right alongside her to take down Umbrella and call for justice for their crimes. When Umbrella finally fell in 2003, they had begun the process of forming the BSAA and hunting down the remaining Umbrella members who had gotten away.
The nights spent over reports, maps, last known locations, shipments for medical supplies, and the list would forever go on. This was no longer simply about justice for themselves, but a lifelong mission and precedent to set for the use and distribution of bioweapons.
"Jill?" Chris beckoned softly as he once again stepped closer to her, his head tilted toward hers.
Jill allowed herself to release a soft laugh while she lowered her eyes for a moment. She was pushing her stark blonde hair behind one of her ears when she considered her next statement.
"I can't do this anymore, Chris."
"Jill, we can—we—" Chris stopped when her slim fingers brushed the sides of his cheeks and carefully held his handsome face between her palms.
"I owe you my life," Jill began.
"No, you don't," Chris breathed, his large hands coming up to wrap carefully around her wrists. That Redfield heat was consuming his tone. "You gave your life for mine when you jumped out that window. Don't leave, Jill."
"This feels different. I feel different. I can't be trusted to make the decisions necessary to be your partner anymore—" Something shifted in her chest as she spoke a truth she hadn't truly acknowledged yet.
"Then don't, but don't leave, Jill. We can still be—" Chris fumbled for words and his eyes finally tore from hers first when he released an angry breath.
"No, we can't." she seemed to agree with the unspoken portion of his hesitation.
Chris winced and he let go of her wrists. In response, Jill's hands dropped from his face, and she pulled him forward in a hug that destroyed her heart.
She would walk away from him. She would do that to save him from what came next if she couldn't figure out who she was anymore.
"Wherever you go…" Chris' voice was thick when he spoke into the side of her face. His arms pulled her the rest of the way to his chest. "Just let me know that you're alright."
"I will," She vowed hoarsely, pulling her head back a little. "Be careful in Australia, Chris."
The storming winter eyes of Chris Redfield met the violet gaze of Jill Valentine one last time before he gave her a sad smile and nodded.
This kiss Jill placed on Chris' cheek spoke to the things they never were and the things she could no longer be for him.
Partner, her mind whispered. Safety, her heart bled. Let me go, her soul pleaded. Let me run, her wishes vowed.
Chris' right hand was weaving into her hair when he pulled her closer and he released a breath of pain that seemed to be shared between the both of them.
"If something happens, I will always come find you, partner," Jill whispered.
Jill was the first to pull away and when she did, she took their shared history with her, and tucked it into a place within her heart to find again.
The black Chevrolet Tahoe that Jill pulled into a lot of the shopping district was a loaner from the BSAA and it was the first vehicle she had driven in over three years. The action of driving had a small burst of energy blooming in her chest with her reclaimed freedom.
After checking her current accounts, Jill had sighed in relief to know that her assets hadn't completely frozen over. Most of the items she had acquired in an old apartment from 2006 had either been moved to a storage unit or had been sold. The money paid to her by the BSAA had usually been reserved for bills, equipment management, and books. The rest was always saved.
Ever since the destruction of Raccoon City, Jill hadn't made a habit of collecting many things in the homes she had barely stayed in. Chris had come over to her apartment in El Paso, Texas only once and he had asked if she had just moved in due to the boxes that still lay pressed up against the walls. At the time, she had been living in the apartment for three years; she just hadn't seen a reason to unpack.
Thinking of her apartment in Raccoon City, Jill let a rare snort escape when she considered she wasn't much of an interior decorator anyway.
The burner cell phone she had purchased only an hour ago lit up in the dark cab of the SUV and Jill squinted down at the number.
With a quick press of a button, Jill brought the phone up to her ear.
"Ms. Valentine," The familiar low, musical voice from so many years ago greeted her first. "A true pleasure to be speaking with you again. I was surprised to receive your email."
"Trent," Jill uttered into the phone. His voice took her back into the locker room of the R.P.D. in 1998. "Thank you for calling me back I—"
"Want to find one Carlos Oliveira, yes." Trent interrupted with a smooth laugh. "A curious time to be searching for him. I would have thought you would have been busy recovering."
Jill felt her jaw clenching when she sat back into the driver's seat chair.
"Are you prepared to travel, Ms. Valentine?" Trent continued.
"It's—It's just Jill, and yes, I am." Jill said after taking a breath and letting her eyes wander around at the cars sitting in the parking lot.
The snow drifted down onto her windshield, and the passing figures of the nearby shoppers were becoming a blur. The clouds above occluded the sun, and the darkness that settled over the winter-stricken town seemed to make the shadows move around her.
"Jill," Trent acquiesced softly. The intimate tone had Jill's eyes shifting back to her lap. "You've been through quite a lot and if I'm going to be honest, you made my role in Umbrella's downfall that much smoother. I would say I'm in your debt, but I think two friends can simply ask for a favor. Wouldn't you agree?"
The information Trent had provided to Jill in 1998 had been invaluable when she had opened the mini disk-reader in the Spencer mansion. Various documents had alluded to her task of finding the keys, the crests, and the various other pieces to the puzzles in the bizarre mansion. The information had likely saved their lives and helped to get them out much faster. However, the lingering distrust for the man had never faded. After Raccoon City's destruction, she had asked him for aid against Umbrella and he had refused.
When they had run across his face in Umbrella's database as a top Umbrella official in 2003, Jill had understood, and she had deleted his record. As far as she was concerned, they were even.
"I agree," She assented and closed her eyes.
"Are you sure you want to do this? South America is a long way from your organization's reach at the moment and I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to help you beyond a certain point should you run into any trouble."
"I'm sure." Jill cleared her throat and pushed back a blonde strand of hair from her face. "I need to see him."
"Mr. Oliveira was pretty explicit about his no contact request." Trent drawled. "But for you, I think he would enjoy seeing the familiar face."
"It's not so familiar anymore." Jill admitted while looking down at the strands of hair that lacked eumelanin and thus turned her hair blonde. The hand that wasn't holding the phone was reaching up and lying over the scar on her chest.
"Scars heal in time, Jill." Jill snapped her head up and looked around. The black Audi parked in front of her roared to life with a flash of headlights and she could barely make out the familiar figure that had been watching her the entire time. "Be sure to heal the ones in the mind first."
"How did you—" Jill began but stopped. "You haven't told me what I owe you."
"This one is on the house. Meet me at the airport in three hours. I wouldn't advise telling anyone where you're going. For his sake." And the line went dead. The black Audi pulled out of the lot and Trent was gone.
Jill was sliding down out of the SUV and her eyes turned to the back of the Audi that was steadily disappearing the further it drove down the pass. Sliding keys into her pocket, she shut the car door and proceeded toward the stores. She needed clothes that didn't match the Alaskan landscape.
She'd heard South America was hot this time of year.
After dropping the vehicle back up for pick up at the BSAA headquarters, Jill had taken an alternate means of transport over to the airport. The olive-colored army duffle on her shoulder contained several pairs of different clothes that were tightly rolled up to maintain space within the bag. A few other purchases had been made in consideration to her needs while she traversed the country.
She wouldn't be able to bring any of her weapons and where that naturally should have worried her, Jill found relief swirling in her gut when she stepped out of the cab and onto the sidewalk while the planes roared through the sky above.
Jill spotted the black Audi waiting near one of the curbs. Wasting little time, she paid, tipped her driver, and made her way over toward Trent. As she approached, she watched the driver shift in his seat before she yanked the door open. Jill hesitated only for a moment before she slid into the passenger seat, closed the door after herself, and then turned to the familiar gaze of Trent.
Trent hadn't changed much in the years since she had seen him last. His dark hair was carefully swept back from his brow, and the deep-set, dark eyes still twinkled with an inside joke she was never privy to. One of his well-manicured hands reached into his coat pocket when he gave her a charming smile.
"You're still as lovely as I saw you last," he said when he handed her a manilla envelope. Classical music was playing softly from the speakers of the car.
"Mmm," The sound escaped her throat with a slight frown when she took the item from him. She heard him chuckle softly while she tore open the envelope.
"Velaria Rhamnusia," Jill read aloud as she stared down in confusion at a passport with her face from the recent BSAA files staring up at her.
"Jill Valentine is an old name that still rings around the world of crime," Trent said with a flick of his hand while he stared out at the mountains from their parked position at the curb. "News came to me pretty quickly that you were alive and well, but I'm a rare case."
Jill slid her sharp gaze over to him while he spoke. Her thoughts began to race before her attention went once more to the papers he had delivered to her. A birth certificate was among the documents.
"I'm told you know several languages?" he asked.
"I do," Jill simply confirmed.
Her father had spoken French to her while she had grown up. Her Japanese mother had spoken in her own tongue and Jill had decided to take higher level Spanish classes when she had attended college a few years before she had joined the U.S. Army. It was an invaluable skill that she often took for granted.
"Rhamnusia…" Jill continued after a beat of silence passed them.
She could see Trent's responding grin from the corner of her eye.
"'Nemesis, winged balancer of life, dark-faced goddess, daughter of Justice.'" Trent quoted the hymn of the Goddess, Nemesis. "Suiting, don't you think?"
The jaw Jill felt she was perpetually clenching was twanging from the pressure while she refused to meet the pleased gaze of the man beside her.
Along with the irony of the tyrant series that she had outran all those years ago, the name chafed the very vulnerable portions of Jill's newly forming soul.
"The very principle of justice," Trent ignored her obvious discomfort while he watched her. "A weight for right and wrong. Do you know this is what the inner ring of my circle calls you? Rhamnusia."
"In my experience," Jill seethed, letting portions of her teeth bare around the words. "Prisoners don't have names."
"Is that what you thought you were under Albert Wesker, Jill?" his hand was reaching and closing around the top of the documents she was clutching in her hands still. He forced the papers down into her lap, and subsequently, her hands to relax. "A prisoner?"
Jill shifted her eyes to the blonde strand of hair that hung over her face as a reminder to what she wasn't anymore. She silently nodded and looked out the window.
This is what she hadn't been able to admit to her own counselor. What she had refused to speak of despite knowing that she needed to. If she was being transparent, she knew Trent wasn't the best person to be acknowledging this with. However, he was removed from the pity that those around her seemed to carry.
"Are you familiar with the story of Narcissus?" Trent asked. "Nemesis lured him to a pool where he caught sight of his own reflection and fell in love with it, eventually dying. You survived the vanity of Albert Wesker, and despite what you did in his hand, you still chose justice as a means to an end."
The hand that had been lying on top of her documents snaked up and grasped her chin to twist her face toward his. The action had Jill's brows furrowing and her mouth opening in a silent snarl, but Trent didn't balk from her weighted stare.
"Fortune is neither good nor bad, Rhamnusia. It simply is. Figure out what that means for you. I can't tell you what it is, the BSAA can't tell you where to find it, and Carlos won't be able to give it to you."
Jill tore her chin from his grasp and opened her mouth to retort but the words died on her tongue as she considered his words.
"Go," Trent was leaning back into his seat with one of his hands curling around the steering wheel. "Your flight will be leaving soon. I do wonder, will this be our last meeting?"
Jill let her eyes linger on the man while her hand curled back around the door handle. The cold breeze of the outside air was wrapping around her bones once more, but it didn't seem to pierce her as much this time around.
"Thank you," she finally managed to say and meant it.
"You are no one's victim, Rhamnusia and don't thank me yet. I can't be sure what you'll find when you get there. However, if anyone is equipped to handle it, I would think it would be you."
The white of his teeth was a blade in the dark when Jill closed the door to the Audi on him. Watching him drive away for the second time while she clutched her new identity had a soft smile gracing her features. It slipped off her face when she turned toward the airport doors
The transferring flights that eventually led to Jill's arrival to the Viru Viru international airport in Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia was a long journey. The drab puke green color of the airport's décor was a nauseating sight to the former B&E specialist as she emerged from the tunnel gate.
The documents that had accompanied her new identity had held the last known location of Carlos and she had studied it for hours on the plane.
Carlos had been tagged last at a small village outside of Tiwanaku, Bolivia. Reports of criminal activity had served as Jill's only warning for what the conditions were for the area, but it hadn't been well updated.
Bolivia was known for its rich history and for the threat of the varying different cartels. One of the local ones was the Cártel de Santa Cruz.
The growth of the transnational drug trade, and the presence of foreign criminal groups in Bolivia from the Cártel de Santa Cruz were responsible for taking advantage of the Andean nation's strategic position as both a drug producer and transfer point. The current government's new measures may have increased pressure on the low-level criminal gangs, Jill noted, but it appeared the more organized criminal structures were largely untouched.
A driver had been set up to take her through the 16-hour journey to the small village. However, her connecting flight within South America had been delayed by several hours and she was uncertain if the driver had waited.
Jill was adjusting the black ball cap on her blonde head when she caught the few sets of eyes following her through the airport. Shifting the duffle on her shoulder, she made sure to keep her head down while she navigated the signs that would lead her outside.
The air of the South American atmosphere was hot and humid, and it reminded Jill a little too much of Africa. It was a thought she pushed away violently before she spotted a man holding a sign with her new name.
"Hello," She greeted him in Spanish. "Are you Santino?"
"Yes," the man responded while he lowered the sign with a wan smile. His eyes were traveling her form briefly before they flicked back up to hers. "I was told to wait for you."
Jill had been careful about her selection of clothing. While heeding the hot atmosphere, she had still opted for preparation. An old habit to break for a former military dog and an officer. The tan tactical pants were form fitting and the G-Tac Soft-Shell jacket was open across her grey tank top. Opting for the jacket's concealed carry abilities, Jill had acknowledged her need to acquire a weapon somewhere within the country.
"Are you hungry?" Santino asked around her assessment of him.
She was slightly lifting the strap of the duffle on her shoulder when she said, "Brought my own food."
Jill caught sight of two men watching her from beneath an awning on the right-hand side of the street. She lifted her chin and delivered a stare to the man who held his arms crossed over his chest. He held her stare for a few beats before he turned his eyes away.
A ripple of satisfaction and another sensation that Jill didn't know how to categorize was pushing through her when she kept her attention their way before sliding into the vehicle.
When the truck pulled away from the foreign airport, Jill was taking in the new landscape when she realized what the sensation led to.
It was hope.
Hope that lingered in her chest while she made her way toward the last man who had given it to her.
"Hey," Santino's voice broke through her dreams and caused Jill to jerk up in her seat.
She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but she never managed to fall asleep on an aircraft much in her history. The journey to South America had been longer than she had realized and as vulnerable as it made her, the sleep in the truck had been needed.
The smattering of homes in the village before her were rectangular, gabled houses. They stood at about in varying different sizes and some appeared to be made of turf that was thatched with wild grass over the roofing. They looked like they were in a state of renovation.
Jill could see people lifting their heads when the truck was kicking dust up on the trail.
"This is an Aymaras village," Santino said quietly while he cranked up the A/C knob in the truck. It was early in the morning of a new day and already the sun was causing the heat waves to ripple on the path before them. "They don't usually take well to strangers and you…well, you stick out."
"I'll keep that in mind," Jill replied, wiping sleep from her eyes as the nerves began to tumble in her chest. Was Carlos watching them approach?
The thought of her dark-eyed comrade watching her through a scope had a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She would have expected nothing less from the former heavy weapons specialist.
"Do you want me to wait for you? Once I'm gone, I'm gone," Santino continued before he stopped his truck near the entrance that housed a wooden fence.
Jill was scanning the coarse grass that llama and alpaca herds were eating from around the area. Farmlands for what Jill assumed were potatoes, corn, barley, and wheat were poking up from the earth. Rowboats and totora-reed rafts could be seen in the distance to where Jill knew the lake was located further on and waited for fishing groups.
"No," she whispered before turning to look at the man once more. "Thank you for bringing me here, Santino."
Santino scoffed and gave her one more of his appraisals before he said, "Be careful, Rhamnusia. This isn't America."
"I know," Jill gave him one of her rare smiles before she closed the door to the truck, turned towards the village, and began a steady walk.
People were clustered around some of the southern facing homes watching her approach. Some of the older men were wearing conical, ear-flapped, knit wool gorros, while the older women sported round, native-made wool derbies and colorful tunics. The younger crowd assessing her had more modernized clothes and their stares seemed to be the hardest of all; protective of what was theirs to preserve.
Jill lifted a hand and called out softly to them in Spanish. She announced herself with her new name and bade Carlos' name into the air.
A few looks were exchanged among some of the people. An older woman with long wavy grey hair was shaking her head before she turned her gaze away.
"Why are you looking for him?" A young woman in a red dress called.
"I'm a…friend," Jill relented as her hand twisted the strap of her duffle on her shoulder. Fresh anxiety was lifting from her gut to her chest.
The young woman studied her for a few more beats, her eyes flickering to a house on the western side of the village before she too shook her head and turned to walk away.
The worn hands of an older man were pulling children away from Jill's assessment when the rest of the people began to follow him back toward the farmlands on the northern side.
She had been dismissed.
Jill's eyes slid to the house on the western side and her boot lifted to carry her that way while she listened to the quiet murmurs of the retreating party.
Curious stares were poking out from other homes when Jill walked past, her boots kicking up dirt as the heat caused a light sweat to break out on her skin. Fear was leaking into Jill's heart when she approached the tan colored home. No movement could be seen through the tiny window that faced the path.
Jill's knuckles rattled the door when she knocked. Wind was causing a wind chime that hung from the roof to penetrate the lonely silence of her arrival.
"Carlos?" Jill called softly when she moved toward the window of the home.
A clay stove sat near the door on the inside. A simple couch lay pushed up against the wall while a small table sat before it with a few different items that sat on its surface. A doorway led into what Jill assumed was a bathroom, and she could detect no movement from within.
Carlos wasn't here.
Tears of frustration were threatening to fall when Jill pushed away from the window. With an irritated huff of breath, she turned her head to see some of the villagers still watching her from afar.
The thump of her duffle shook the wooden foundation of the porch when Jill tossed it down. With a backwards slide down the wall, she slid to her bottom and leaned back against the home.
However long it took, she would wait. She wouldn't leave without seeing him or knowing if this was where he would return.
The sun arced across the sky while Jill Valentine waited with her eyes gazing off into the horizon. Every once in a while, someone would walk by, and she would meet their silent stare with a look of determination. She finished one of the bottles of water she had brought before the sun set fully.
When night fell, the cool atmosphere became a balm on her fevered skin. A soft sound emitted when she tossed her hat down on the porch before she placed her face in her hands and finally let the tears fall in the privacy of darkness.
In the early hours before dawn, Jill opened her eyes when she heard footsteps in the dirt coming from around the house. Blinking away the last dredges of sleep, she stood to her feet with her heart in her throat.
A man rounded the corner and for a moment, she thought it was Carlos.
The man had a similar build and the AR in his hand was held just as confidently. However, the faint light showed her the lighter colored eyes and a scowl that twisted the handsome features of the younger man before her.
"Who the fuck are you?" his Spanish was curt and delivered with a harsh breath. Long, slightly curly hair was twisting around his shoulders as if he had just finished running.
"I'm here for Carlos." Jill responded by straightening up her posture and stepping down from the stair that led from the home's porch.
"I don't care who the hell you're here for. Who. Are. You?" The gun was lifting slightly in his arms.
"Velaria Rhamnusia." Jill had tested the name on her tongue a few times while she had traveled. It held too many syllables for it to feel completely natural to her, but she'd use it if it kept danger from Carlos.
"And why are you here for Carlos?" The man was stepping closer as he eyed her attire.
"I thought you said you didn't care who I was here for?" Jill quipped, refusing to raise her hands at her side.
"You're a long way from home, stranger," The man acknowledged with a squint to his lightly colored blue-green eyes. "I suggest you start talking fast before you see your homeland again from the inside of a box."
"I'm a friend," she bit out, motioning to her bag that still lay on the porch. "He told me to come here to visit."
The man's eyes turned from her bag and back to hers when he said, "I doubt that, Velaria. It took a lot of convincing to get him to come back here in the first place."
Jill tilted her head at him before she asked, "And who are you?"
"His brother," the man sneered toward her.
"Does his brother have a name?" Jill petitioned with an old feeling of her days in law enforcement rearing up to pry for details without much care to etiquette.
"Alonzo," He said after a beat. He was pushing past her and walking toward Carlos' front door.
"Alonzo Oliveira," Jill called after a moment, watching as he tested the door. "I didn't break in."
Alonzo was shifting on his feet and looking back at her with his head tilting in what she interpreted as curiosity.
"He told you that surname?" he asked.
"He did. Is it not one you share?" She took in the weapons strapped to different portions of his legs. He was fully armed, and the weapons looked well maintained.
Jill was wondering what sort of militia was in the area when he spoke next.
"It's one we abandoned long ago." He turned and unlocked the door before waving her forward. "Come on then."
Yanking her bag from the ground, Jill followed the man into the house with a healthy dose of caution. She was certain she could disarm him in the small space, but she'd rather not have to resort to violence if he truly was Carlos' brother.
Alonzo was rifling through something in the backroom that Jill had assumed was a bathroom earlier. When he emerged again, he held a faded looking piece of paper in his hand. His eyes scanned the paper before he glanced up at her and then back down. Jill turned her eyes from him for a moment while she took in the space in closer detail.
Plates were stacked neatly on a small stool and the old scent of food could still be detected near the stove, but it looked like nothing had been prepared for a while. Dirt and dust layered the small table with various items atop it and Jill noted the blankets on the green colored couch also didn't look like they had been used in at least a few days. Clothes and various different packs sat near the wall the couch sat against. Finally, two handguns lay on a shelf that looked relatively new. One of the Berettas was dismantled, as if the owner had been interrupted when they had been cleaning it.
"Velaria," Alonzo said quietly next to her.
Jill turned her attention back to him and she noticed a new look in his eyes now. His focus started from her hair, dove into the grooves of her face before moving at a quicker pace down her lean form.
"Tell me your real name." he dropped the hand holding the paper to his side.
Jill felt her proverbial hackles rise and she slid her foot into a more solidified stance to prepare for the altercation she thought may be coming.
Alonzo noted the shift and when he smiled, she finally saw the first pieces of evidence that Carlos may share a name with the man before her. It was his smile too.
"Why would I have another name, Alonzo?" she asked in the deadly calm tone she was known for.
"Because you look like Jill Valentine." He revealed then, shaking the paper slightly in his hand. "And if you were, Jill Valentine, I may tell you what happened to Carlos."
Jill took in a sharp breath at his words and stepped forward when she said, "Where is he?"
"Hello, Jill," Alonzo breathed before he handed her the paper. "Always wondered if I was going to meet you."
Jill snapped the paper from his hand and stared down at her own face smiling slightly into the camera. It was her picture from the Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. Her old beret perched atop her brunette-colored hair. The associated article detailed her status as a survivor of Raccoon City and as one of the fallen BSAA agents lost in 2006.
"He didn't believe you were dead," Alonzo revealed when he turned for a chair near the stove. "'Not Jill', he had said. 'She'd survive and whomever she was chasing better pray to whatever gods were listening she didn't find them.'"
The picture began to shake in her hand when she lowered it and met Alonzo's gaze.
"Where is he?"
"Captured and likely dead," Alonzo said with his tone dipping slightly. "History repeats itself, you see? But Carlos didn't care. He wouldn't stand for what the gangs were doing in these lands."
"When?" Jill's features were transforming on her face as the anger of her youth was shining forward for the first time in years.
"A week ago," Alonzo answered, sitting up and meeting her harsh stare. "It's too dangerous to get into their camps and we don't know which one it is."
"Who's we and where is this information stored?" Jill demanded. When Alonzo hesitated, she was baring her teeth for the second time that week. "Alonzo, if you don't tell me, I will wage the kind of hell you've only read about. Is there a chance he's still alive?"
Alonzo's smile was sad while he studied her.
"I see why he spoke of you as he did," he said quietly. "Did you ever hear of the Indians of Vila Vila and Caracollo defeating a conservative army of Oruro?"
Jill shook her head while her heartbeat continued to pound through her ears.
"I won't bore you with the history lesson then but there's always a resistance under the scenes in Bolivia. Most of us serve because we grew up in it. Only this time, it's the Cártel de Santa Cruz that's expanded out. Villages like this are underserved and no one bats an eye until it's at a higher level. They started sniffing out the resistance in the smaller areas; wiping us out one by one while they captured our women and children."
"Do you have a list of their sites they hold for executions?" Jill was setting the picture of herself down atop the cold oven.
"We do," He nodded and shifted his eyes toward the window. "But Jill, we're not going to be able to get close."
"I don't need you to come with me. I just need information and equipment." Her tactical mind was already moving at a mile a minute.
"You'll die," Alonzo was standing to his feet again, his imposing height doing nothing for the horrors that lived beneath Jill's skin. "That's not what he would've wanted—for them to kill you like a dog in the street."
"They can try," she said quietly with malice behind her tone when she leaned up toward Alonzo. "Take me to where your information is."
Alonzo stared at her for a few moments more before he eventually nodded and pushed past her out the door.
The violet eyes of Jill Valentine lit up in the sun when she followed after him. When Alonzo looked back at her, maybe to see if her resolve was truly there or not, what he saw in her eyes caused him to flinch slightly.
"Your second name," Alonzo said as he led her through the various houses and toward where a few vehicles were parked. "Do you know what they mean together?"
"No," Jill responded with her mind spiraling around the events that were about to occur next.
"It means 'strong nemesis'," Alonzo glanced back at her once. "Velaria Rhamnusia means strong nemesis. If you're anything like Carlos described, I think it suits you."
Jill's eyes were on the similarly shaped form of the brother to the man she had come to find. The cloak of something colder was washing over her features when she recognized that what brought her here was also going to be what she would need to do to rescue Carlos.
"Do you know what you were before I found you, Ms. Valentine?" Wesker had asked her once while she lay on the ground, bleeding from one of their training sessions in 2008. "One from whom there is no escape from. What you are now, is only evidence of your transcendence."