"Jill," A voice was calling her from far off before Jill could pull herself from the nightmares. "Jill!"
Jill awoke with a start, and then she was grabbing the hand on her arm—Bending it back and twisting the arm attached to it.
"Ow—hey, damn it, you Capuchin—let go!"
Jill blinked and released Alonzo's hand while he continued to swear in pain.
"Sorry," she uttered when he stumbled back.
"My god, woman. You could at least pretend you're as dainty as you look sometimes." Alonzo's grin was wide while he shook the blood flow back into his hand in front of her. He was leaning over her position on the couch.
A dim sunset was filtering through the window near the door and Jill blinked rapidly to recall her thoughts prior to sleeping. It had been the dead of night when they had returned.
"How long have I been out?" she asked.
"About 17 hours, I think." Alonzo was stepping toward the second seat and Jill pulled her bare legs closer to her body to allow him space.
"Shit," She dragged a hand over her sleep pressed face.
"You're pretty cute when you snore too." Alonzo's good mood was starting to grate on her already fraying nerves and whatever look she gave him had him doing that wheezing thing some would call a laugh.
"Carlos?" she asked when her memory flared. She was pulling the hand knitted blanket from her lap when she swung her feet to the floor.
Jill hadn't bothered to put pants on before she had fallen asleep, so when she stood in her clean blue tank top and black cotton panties, Alonzo respectfully turned his gaze down toward the floor.
Jill was waiting for an answer when she strode over to her bag.
"Well?" She asked with a little annoyance.
Alonzo cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the floor while she yanked a blue pair of jeans over her feet and up her legs.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Jill snapped. "If you see something you haven't seen before, feel free to shoot it. How is Carlos?"
When Alonzo felt it was safe to look again, he released another laugh and cut his head toward her with one of his bushy brows lifting beneath his messy hair.
"Yeah, no, I'm not checking out my brother's savior. Even I want to die in a much better way than that." When Jill's face must have reflected her ire, he continued, "He's fine. We gave him the medications you suggested. That was a fun conversation with the town doctor, by the way."
"And the little girl?" Jill rolled clean socks onto her feet before she dragged her hands through her hair.
"She'll live," Alonzo replied in a much more somber tone. "Carlos is asking for the Rhamnusia."
Jill paused when she yanked a bra from her bag.
"You didn't tell him who I was?" Her hands were beginning to shake.
"No." The soft smile of the Oliveira line was gracing his features again. "I love surprising the bastard."
Jill was turning her back to him when she lifted her tank top and pulled her arms from the clothing. With ease, she pulled her arms through the straps of the bra in front of her.
"Jesus Christ," she heard Alonzo snap before he was standing and thundering toward the door.
Jill rolled her eyes and clasped the clothing around her back before she pushed the tank top back down. Extreme modesty had been beaten out of her years ago by Albert Wesker.
"You hungry?" Alonzo asked when he picked up a bag he must have set down when he entered earlier.
"Starving," she said when she closed her pack and glanced at her clothes still drying over a chair.
Alonzo was handing her a banana before he mentioned that more food was waiting for her at the healer's house.
"The scars on your chest and back," Alonzo was asking while she bit into the fruit and followed him toward the porch. "What are they from?"
"My capture in the last three years," she explained vaguely around the bite of her food.
"Is the person who did it dead?" His expression was hardening.
Somehow, in the short amount of time she had been there, she had found a true friend in the second Oliveira brother.
"He is," she said while meeting that look.
"Good." Alonzo waited for her to put her still slightly damp boots back on. "When Carlos sees it's you, I'm sure he'd find the idea of revenge adequate. He's only gotten better since you last saw him."
"Mmm," Jill made the sound in the back of her throat while she chewed. "Are all of you this brazen?"
"Have you met us?" he was grinning again while he walked backwards and watched her eat.
"Yeah, and Carlos is just like you, so can I expect him to gasp at the sight of one of my uncovered ankles?" Jill was surprised at her own snickering tone but then again she had never been a morning person. That had been Barry Burton's deal.
"You're not gonna let that go, are you? I'm not a saint, Jill, and back there was way more than an ankle."
"Bunch of boys whipping guns around getting spooked by the natural anatomy of a woman—you're ridiculous." Jill was folding the banana peel in her hand while she watched him laugh. "By the way, you called me a Capuchin back there. What's that?"
"A monkey." His expression was delighted.
Jill glanced down at the banana peel in her hand before she tossed it at his face.
Alonzo's laugh echoed around the space of the homes around them when the peel bounced off his forehead and smacked into the dirt.
Jill could tell when they were nearing the healer's house even before Alonzo mentioned it. People were sitting in small circles eating around a fire when the duo approached. Heads were lifting and the smiles that graced their faces in joy were aimed at Jill.
Jill found herself smiling hesitantly when she lifted a hand and greeted them in a soft tone. The title and last name of Rhamnusia was something she felt she may never get used to.
"This way," Alonzo called while gesturing to a slightly larger home with the door ajar.
Jill was searching the faces of the people who watched her without shame. The scar the Tyrant had given her in Raccoon City seemed to suddenly burn on her arm and Jill was coming to a stop before the steps of the healer's home.
She could hear familiar laughter coming from inside.
It was Carlos'.
Jill's hands were shaking at the reality she had been working so hard to find in the last few days. The years of her torture had allowed her to envision their reunion and it had come in many different forms. She had imagined tears, long talks of their history, quiet exchanges, and when her body hummed at different times, she had also envisioned it with lips, teeth, and roaming hands.
The fingers of her left hand were touching the scar that the Nemesis Tyrant had left on her right arm back in 1998. The scar that had taken her life in a different direction and caused Carlos to search for a vaccine. It was the scar that led to her body's new immunity and was the subject of almost all of Albert Wesker's focus for those last three years.
"Jill?" Alonzo had one boot on the steps while he waited for her to follow.
Jill had been 24 when she had last seen Carlos. At 36 now, her body hardly reflected any changes aside from her unnatural hair color from the injections. At 24 she had been someone else entirely. Someone who still had the burn of justice roaring through her system while she had plotted to take down the corporation who had killed her S.T.A.R.S teammates in the Arklay mansion. She had been so young when her town had gone up in flames while she sat next to the slightly younger Carlos Oliveira on the chopper.
Jill realized then how much she had changed on the inside and suddenly the shame of revealing all of that to Carlos had her boot stepping backwards and away from the porch.
Jill was turning away from Alonzo and the home beyond when she began quick steps around the people at the campfire. She was almost running when she heard Alonzo call out for her again.
Carlos was a resistance fighter. The very thing he was doing here was fighting against monsters like she had been in Africa. How could she tell him what she had done? How could she accept the smiles and gratitude of this village when people just like them lay in nameless graves because she had been too weak to stop it on her own?
Let Carlos keep the image of that 24-year-old in his mind.
Her debt was now paid and as far as Jill could reason, she didn't need to burden his life any further with what she had become.
Alonzo was panting when he grabbed her shoulder in the middle of the village.
"What are you doing?" he uttered. "What's wrong? He's waiting for you."
Jill tossed off his hand and kept her expression in check when she said, "I'm leaving. Don't tell him I was here, just tell him anything other than—"
Alonzo was angry when he stepped in front of her and shoved her in the chest to stop her retreat.
"What the fuck, Jill?" he snapped, lifting a hand to point over her shoulder and back toward the healer's home. "You came here for him and now you don't even want to see him? What is this? What changed? I saw you last night—I saw you holding him—you feel the same way he does, and you're just going to leave and not face that?"
Jill already knew that Alonzo was a loyal brother prior to his current defense. It lay in his very eyes that he would die for Carlos had the opportunity presented itself. The pain in his face was one she knew he understood from some part of an understanding he had for Carlos and the way his brother had saved that newspaper clipping with her face on it.
"Face it? He's not going to face it with me when he understands what I've done!" At her last word, Jill was suddenly shouting. It was a broken sound that had been locked away for years.
"I've killed people, Alonzo. Innocent people! People who begged me for mercy and I wasn't strong enough to stop it! I am the enemy; I am the nemesis I was named after! I deserve death and yet I still live while there are people who deserve so much more than the end I gave them!" Jill was shoving past him with her hair streaming behind her as she truly began to run then.
"I don't know what kind of fucking pedestal you have Carlos on, Jill," Alonzo's voice trailed her when he stayed standing in the middle of the village. "But it's not for you to decide what he will and will not understand. Look around this village when you have a second. We live in war every day. We kill every day to have this. I don't know what happened to you, but it's clear to me that an enemy isn't making this village smile today."
Jill didn't respond while she continued away and toward the home she had woken up in. Alonzo hadn't continued to follow her and when she stepped inside Carlos' home, she didn't bother to hold her sobs back as she began to shove her items back into her duffle.
Carlos Oliveira had shit the bed. Figuratively and literally from his earlier withdrawals. The medication that was now assisting his withdrawals was helping but it would take time. The beds around him showed him the smiling faces of his surviving men, but he knew he would also need to talk to the families of the men who hadn't made it back. There was so many who hadn't made it back.
When they all had a moment, they also needed to talk about that slaughterhouse and what they had seen. About what had happened to their fighters and more importantly their people... Carlos was no stranger to trauma and the way to the sharpest death was keeping that ugly shit in. When he had a moment to himself, he would also need to face what he had seen and take responsibility for it.
The bandage over the hand with his missing fingers was tightening over his wound when he pushed himself into a sitting position. The knife wounds on his chest were thankfully shallow and didn't look nearly as bad as Alex's face did. Carlos had told Alex he considered it an improvement, and the younger man had called him something seriously unsavory. It made Carlos' broken ribs trill in pain when he laughed.
The little girl, Renata, was the daughter of the herd master, Luis Navarro, and Carlos had been surprised to see her still alive when he had woken up in the healer's home.
Actually, the more he considered it, the more Carlos was truly surprised they all had made it out. Alonzo had been by a few times since he had woken. His annoying little brother had been all smiles when he had told Carlos to rest up so he could meet the Rhamnusia.
Rhamnusia…
Carlos could barely recall most of the events prior to his sickness, but he remembered the cutting sound of her Spanish as she had sliced up Marcos before she had killed the rest of the men holding them hostage.
Soft touches had accompanied his memory, and a blurry face surrounded by blonde hair. It was the soft words in English he struggled to remember. His surprise by the language had given his brain enough to recall the warm body behind him while the truck had jostled in the night across the mountain. A certain phrase she had said kept ringing in his head, but he could only follow the cadence; the words were just beneath the surface. Her words, even in his state, were familiar and they had brought him the deepest sense of comfort he had felt in a long time.
Rhamnusia was American, and she said she had been looking for him. She had called him hers.
"You took what was mine,"
As Carlos sat in silence now, the drugs in his system were still making him feel like shit, but Alonzo had assured him he'd only need to take it until they could ween him down to normal again. The doctor in the town was an ally and he had promised his younger brother he would stop by to check in tomorrow.
The sound of someone shouting outside lifted Carlos' head and his brows furrowed at the sound. It was a female and he winced when he leaned toward the familiar sound of it.
Soon he heard boots pounding through the dirt, over the wooden planks of the porch, and then Alonzo was pushing through the door.
"Little brother," Carlos said. "What's—"
"You need to get up," Alonzo interrupted when he stepped over to Carlos' bed and turned down the blankets. "It's J—it's Rhamnusia—she's going to leave."
Madris was coming out of the back room from the sounds of shouting. When the older woman viewed Alonzo pulling down Carlos' blankets she began to screech at him to back off.
"Whoa, slow down," Carlos said, lifting both of his hands from the bed. One toward Madris and one toward Alonzo. "What are you talking about? The woman? She's leaving? Why?"
"I—" Alonzo looked uncharacteristically tongue tied and it was beginning to put Carlos on edge. "You have to stop her. She won't listen to me."
"He shouldn't be walking!" Madris repeated herself again with her fists pressed into her thick hips.
"This is important, Madris!" Alonzo uttered in exasperation before he looked frantically back at Carlos.
"Why? Why is she leaving?" Even at his line of questioning, Carlos found his legs slowly coming over the edge of the bed.
"Because she thinks—shit, Carlos, she's—" Alonzo looked back toward the doorway as if he could view her now.
Loyalty—that's what Carlos was looking at. His brother had become loyal to the woman who had saved them and there was something he was trying to say but more than likely had been asked not to. Multiple scenarios were running through Carlos' head when he stood with a groan.
"Hand me my pants," Carlos snapped his fingers toward the chair that held the gear Madris had taken off him.
"Smells like shit," Madris muttered with her glower. "You'll get your bandages dirty. I just washed you."
"Alright," Carlos relented before he turned his eyes to Alonzo. "Give me your pants."
"Are you serious? We don't have time for this!" Alonzo snapped.
"Drop your drawers, little brother. I have a Rhamnusia to visit." Carlos smirked slightly before his sibling did as asked and ended up tossing the pants in his face once they were off.
"You both fucking owe me." Alonzo was impatient while he helped Carlos into the pants that were a little tight on his hips.
"Shoes too." Carlos grinned.
Alonzo's answering swears had Alex and David laughing before Carlos made a limping stride toward the door.
"Where is she?" He asked while he ran a hand through his thick mop of hair.
"Your house." Alonzo muttered.
"You put her in my house?" Carlos asked with confusion. He had a few things in there he didn't need some American rifling through.
"You wouldn't have had it any other way." Alonzo sat back on the bed and made a shooing gesture. "Can you hurry the fuck up before she leaves?"
Alonzo's answer was still echoing through Carlos' mind as he made his way through the village.
Jill was staring down at the phone in her hand as it attempted to search for a signal. She wasn't going to have any luck calling Trent and would need to get into one of the larger cities to be able to connect with her cheap international phone.
She doubted Alonzo would drive her and she was struggling to remember how far the town had been where she had met Arturo when she heard the steps on the porch. The door opened and Jill's irritation was cresting its burning point.
"I told you I'm not staying." She hissed before she tossed her phone back in the duffle.
"And why is that?"
Jill froze and the duffle fell to the floor with a spill of some of her equipment.
Carlos stood behind her now; there'd be no running any longer.
The hive of Jill's angry thoughts stuttered on the despair of this reality and when she didn't say anything she could hear the limping steps of Carlos as he came further into the house and shut the door behind him.
"Alonzo seems really broken up that you're leaving. I understand if you can't stay but I wanted to thank you—" He was saying before she turned around and he suddenly stopped altogether.
She could see when the recognition took hold. When he looked past the blonde hair framing her face and understood then who she was.
"Hello, Carlos," she spoke in English.
"Jill." Carlos' face went slack and suddenly it was as if his eyes couldn't consume her fast enough. He was looking at her from head to toe while his mouth worked silently.
He stepped forward and Jill couldn't stop the tears flooding into her eyes. He still looked the same. Neither one of them were that old, but the years had been kind to him and even with his injuries he was still a vision that roused something in her chest.
"It was you," His bandaged hand with the missing fingers slightly gestured back toward the wall. Toward where the slaughterhouse sat in charred ruins. Toward where she had saved him. "You're Rhamnusia?"
"Yes," the conversation continued in English, which Jill found appropriate.
"You're alive," Another step closer. "I wasn't sure—I tried to find you a few times but then I saw the report in 2006—You're alive, Jill, shit."
Tears rolled down her cheeks and dipped into the hollow of her collarbones. She couldn't seem to find her voice any longer when he took the last step up to her. It wasn't a big house and he seemed bigger than she remembered.
His good hand was coming up to touch her cheek, maybe to wipe away the tears, maybe just to make contact but he stopped before his skin touched hers.
"You're alive but you were trying to leave." He spoke with his dark eyes stuttering on her features. "You were going to leave without seeing me. Why?"
Jill wanted to lean into the hand before he dropped it back down to his side. He was so close now she could smell the herbs that the healer had more than likely placed against his injuries. The swelling in his face had gone down considerably, but the black and blue bruises still lined his handsome features.
"I—" Every reason Jill had in her mind seemed weak in comparison to the strong reaction of pain he held in his gaze now. She hadn't wanted to hurt him—the last thing she wanted was to hurt Carlos Oliveira.
"I'm sorry," she managed before her feet seemed to move on their own and she was bending to scoop up her bag. She shoved the items back inside and stepped around him to head for the door.
"I never should have come here," she bid wildly when she twisted the door handle.
A large hand slammed against the surface beside her head and the door boomed shut.
Jill followed the arm over her shoulder and to the dark gaze of the man that stood behind her now.
"No," he gritted out.
"No?" she uttered with anger lacing her tone. "Remove your hand, Oliveira."
"No," he repeated. "Had you never come, I'd be dead and forgive me if I find that to be a huge fucking deal. Actually, I'm more thankful that little Renata gets to be with her family again—or did you want to walk away from that fact too?"
The duffle bag crashed to the ground again when the angry eyes of Jill Valentine met his full on.
"Or, how 'bout David, Pedro, and Alex?" he leaned toward her, the muscles in the arm that was still pinning the door shut were flexing as he held himself up. "Did you want to know that prior to our last mission none of those men had ever held a gun before? They help herd the animals, they tend to the fields, and they watch the children when the women need a break, but fuck all of that, right?"
"You don't understand," Jill found herself accusing him with a snarl.
"Nah, you're right, I don't," he seethed while he tilted his head toward her. "I don't remember you being a coward, Jill Valentine. I remember you as much more than that."
"Fuck you," she bit out and lifted her hands to place on his chest. She meant to shove him back, but the action didn't follow through. She would hurt him had she done so and nothing in Jill seemed to be able to do that.
Carlos glanced down at her hands before he slowly lifted his head back to hers. His bandaged hand closed over one of hers.
"I heard what you said to me, Valentine." Carlos said quietly. "You came here for me. Why are you trying to leave? You found me. You saved me. I'm right here."
"I didn't want you to know," she whispered and squeezed the skin over his heart.
"Know what?" his hand tightened over hers.
"What I've done." She dropped his stare and found herself leaning back into the door. "I don't deserve to be here, Carlos. I don't deserve a single happy moment of it."
"Are you happy to see me?" he asked with a frown when she pulled her hand back.
"Yes," the answer tore from her very soul.
"Act like it then." His hands were curling on her shoulders, and he yanked her forward into his chest.
After 12 years—12 long and hard years, Jill Valentine found herself once again in Carlos Oliveira's arms. Her hands found their place at his hips when she stumbled forward into his tall frame. Her body was pressing into the bandaged cuts, but he didn't seem to care when his bearded face pressed to the top of her forehead.
He wasn't wearing a shirt and the skin of his chest against hers was a home she wanted to live in.
"Jill," he whispered into her skin, and he tightened up when she shivered against him.
Jill's hands were gripping his hips harder before she suddenly pulled back, her shoulder blades knocking against the door behind her.
"You wouldn't if you knew—" she sputtered. "You wouldn't want to even look at me if you knew what I did to them."
"Did to who?" A look of pain crossed his features and Jill didn't know if it was from his wounds or her actions. "What happened to you, Jill?"
His hand came up and touched her cheek and his fingers curled around the blonde strands of her hair.
Jill looked up into his face and when she opened her mouth, she couldn't stop the tirade that came forth.
Jill told him of 2006 when the BSAA received information on the whereabouts of Umbrella's founder, Oswell E. Spencer and thus Albert Wesker. She briefly described who Albert Wesker had been to her in 1998 and the betrayal he made against the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team. She and Chris hadn't been prepared for what Albert Wesker had become. He was too fast; too strong. Jill told Carlos of Albert Wesker holding her partner up by his neck like a ragdoll and the decision she had made when she had chosen Chris' life over hers.
"I chose death," Jill cried and yanked her head back from Carlos' kind touch when she sobbed. "I chose death, and he wouldn't even let me have that!"
Carlos was silent when she told him of her first conscious thoughts in the bright white lab. Agony like she had never known was her life for nearly a year while Wesker and a small team of Tricell researchers mended the broken body that was hers after falling from such a great height. She admitted to calling for help—to Wesker, to Chris, to him when she became confused from all of the painkillers in her system. Pain had only answered; pain and the red eyes of her enemy.
When her body had healed, Wesker had begun to cage her will. The first doses of P30 were in the trial phase and Jill thought she would lose her mind when she had tried to kill herself several times; the suggestibility hadn't been nearly as strong, and when she fought Wesker, she had lost more times than she could count.
When the P30 trials started to show improvement and Jill became more obedient as the drug was injected over and over again, Wesker had started with simple commands. He had taunted her, commanded her, and praised her viciously when she did as she was told all while holding that cold mask of indifference. He had asked her to do such vile things.
Her final test, or rather the final P30 test, had been walking into the room to find a man tied to a chair. The gag in his mouth had stopped Jill from being able to hear the words but one didn't need to know the words when she understood he was pleading for his life. The man was dirty, as if he had been kept in confinement for longer than a few weeks. Built up oil and grime caked his skin and made his shiny visage stick out with full clarity in her mind.
"Kill him," Albert Wesker had commanded simply behind her.
Jill had been screaming from somewhere far off while she watched her own hands grip the man's oily face. Light brown eyes were begging her for mercy; begging her to at least reconsider. But the body of a machine had no hesitation before the sound of life being snuffed out in a single crack of a spine filled the room. Silence reigned.
"Excellent," the devil at her back had whispered in her ear.
The work on P30 was continuous and little by little the effects lasted longer and longer the more Albert Wesker prepared for his actions in 2009. A year prior, her ex-captain decided that her hand-to-hand combat skills needed work, and the only mistake he ever made was teaching Jill Valentine hundreds of ways to kill a man with her bare hands. She had planned to kill him with one of those ways, but that never became a possibility.
And so, in 2008, Jill had done as asked and assisted Wesker in capturing the Ndipaya tribe and doing nothing when they were implanted with Type 3 Plagas as test subjects. Even now she could hear them screaming. Standing before Carlos now, she could hear the fearful voices of the citizens in Kijuju. She had been ordered to protect Irving as he conducted business in the city, and the number of people who had tried to hinder the man's progress was a stain on her hands.
Carlos wasn't looking at her when she detailed her encounter with Chris Redfield near the end. Carlos was looking down at the ground when she seethed that it only took Chris saying her name for her to break free. He didn't see the rage on her face when she detailed how weak that had made her feel.
Chris Redfield had absolutely saved her life—but she felt so weak in front of him now.
"Did you enjoy it?" Carlos' voice stopped her as she breathed heavily. Jill's was ridged when she noticed his downturned eyes.
"No," she barked. "How the hell can you ask me that? I—" she was stepping closer to him when she leaned up and caught his eyes above her now. "Did I enjoy it, Carlos? What do you think?"
"I think you're a victim alongside them all, Jill Valentine," Carlos lifted his head only slightly and their noses were inches apart now. "I think you hate yourself for that fact because you've never allowed yourself to be a victim before."
"No," she shook her head, and her blonde strands smacked against her neck. "I am responsible—"
"No, Jill, you're not. You were a victim. Held against your will like you saw me yesterday."
"Don't give me that," she shouted and watched when he flinched from her angry features. "Don't give me your compassion, your niceties, your sorrow—I'm tired of hearing it! I'm tired of the excuses made for me—"
"You prideful, little thing," His large hand placed itself over the scar on her chest that he now understood, and he shoved her back into the door before holding her there. "Do you hear yourself? You never forgave yourself for it, did you? For being betrayed by your captain, for not being able to save your city, for not being able to die, for not being able to go against a man who was only stronger because of what lived in his veins then."
Jill's hands were wrapping around his wrist as anger burned in her heart. "Don't—"
"No, I think I will, Jill," he cut her off and pressed his hand more firmly into her chest but not enough to hurt. "Compassion burns you, but you deserve it. The words of people who love you hurt you because you feel as if your circumstances are only your fault. Do you know how to live any other way? Damning only yourself when you can't control something?"
He leaned down toward her face and said, "It's not your fault."
"Stop," she begged.
"It's not your fault but you're allowed to be angry at what you were forced to do. You're allowed to be in pain from the lives you were forced to take. You are allowed everything, Jill, because you are not a machine." he continued. "I don't know why you came here, but I'm glad you did."
"I deserve—" she was crying so hard now that she could barely recognize her own voice.
"You deserve so much, Jill." His fingers slid from over the scar at her chest and up to her chin. "You deserve so much and more."
"I came here—" she paused and tried to stop the hiccupping sounds escaping from her mouth. "I came here because it was you. It was you, Carlos. I didn't stop thinking of you when I couldn't control my body."
Carlos' mouth wobbled for a moment, and Jill watched when tears were peering out of the corners of his dark eyes.
"I trusted you, Carlos," she admitted before she touched his hand on her chin and brought his fingers up to her cheek and just held them there. "I wanted to leave with you when you asked, and I regretted not going but I had to see things through with Umbrella. The way you made me feel in just the few nights of knowing you was safety to me. Unclouded history of just two people eventually trusting each other and knowing that the other would be there. I played your voice in my mind for years; I thought I'd die hearing it but I lived—I lived and the only person I wanted to see was you when I was free."
The truth took her strength and suddenly Jill could no longer stay on her feet as a bone-weary exhaustion crept over her body. Carlos' arms caught her and the action had him hissing in pain from his injuries. Still, he brought her forward into him before he turned them both to slide against the door of his home.
Jill lay against him with her face pressed into his chest as she slipped the ground on her knees between his legs. His arms were squeezing her tightly as he held her and allowed her cry against him. After a moment, he hooked his forearms beneath her legs and placed her legs around his waist.
Jill pressed in closer with her arms wrapping around his neck and just allowed herself to feel—everything. The cold mask she had been using to keep it all back was finally off, and the sobs of so many different lives she had been forced to take were finally free.
Carlos continued to hold her tightly and pressed his face into the side of hers while he began to speak softly to her.
The sun was casting the last shadows of the day on the eastern wall above the couch across from the pair, but Carlos didn't let her go as she clung to him. Carlos continued to talk to her softly as she shook and released years of tears in his arms.
Also for the first time in years, Jill felt no shame as she expressed herself and she knew the man beneath her would allow her that.
Soon, the moon outside of the window was pushing a small amount of light through the home.
"I thought of you too," Carlos' voice was rough after the passing of time without speaking. He cleared his throat. "For 12 years, I thought of you. It's always your voice in my head when I make a mistake or when I trust the wrong person. Somehow, you became the angel on my shoulder and more, Valentine."
Jill lifted her face and pressed it into his neck as he spoke. His arms pulled her impossibly closer.
"So, where do we go from here?" Jill asked into his skin before she pulled back to look up at him.
"Wherever you'd like," he murmured above her.
"You're kind of fighting a war right now," Jill pointed out.
"I am kind of fighting a war right now," he agreed. "You decimated part of the problem though, so…"
Jill said nothing while she kept her face upturned toward his. She was watching his mouth as he spoke, and she jumped slightly when his free hand came up and ran lightly under her jaw.
"I find it fitting that it was you who came to avenge me last," he dragged his knuckles back and forth across her skin and when she shivered, she swore she could see something a little hungrier enter his eyes. "The Rhamnusia—The Nemesis. The one who brings justice."
"If I never hear that name again," Jill responded in a breathless tone. She had dreamed of his hands on her like this. "I will probably die happy."
The laugh that Carlos gave rumbled on her chest as it shook her frame. She found herself smiling into his neck when she shifted her head to his shoulder once more.
"Pretty sure you're not gonna get away with that," his lips pressed into her hair. "I think they were building a statue of you in the middle of the village."
"Fuck," she sighed into his skin.
"Blonde," Carlos said then and his hand was roving through her hair. "No wonder I didn't recognize you."
"Mmmph," the sound at the back of her throat was dismissive. "It's ridiculous."
"No," Carlos gripped her hair a little more tightly and she looked up into the dark eyes when he craned his head down toward hers. "Ridiculous is not how I was gonna describe it."
"You like blondes, Oliveira?" she sassed lightly with a tilt of her head up to his once more.
"I like whatever you got, Valentine," he metered out slowly.
Jill was speechless for a moment before a heat was creeping up to her face. She flinched slightly when the back of his fingers touched her cheek like they had 12 years ago.
"Either that vaccine is non-functional again, or I just made Jill Valentine blush." his grin was stretching across his face proudly.
"Shut up," she grumbled and pulled back.
His one arm still around her waist tightened when he said, "Going somewhere?"
"We should probably get you into bed." she said, glancing at the couch.
"That's the spirit." She turned back toward him and found him laughing quietly.
"So that you can heal, Carlos!" She was 36 years old, and this man would not turn her into a stuttering mess—
"Right," he said, pulling his arm back and allowing her to stand. "Always wanted a little blonde nurse of my own. Where are you going to sleep?"
Jill stood to her feet and held out her hands to help him up. He did so with careful consideration and when he looked down at her expectantly, she realized he had asked a question.
"Uh," she uttered intelligently. "The floor?"
"Wrong," he breathed before he walked slowly toward the bathroom.
Jill's brows were raised when he shut the door to the bathroom. She glanced back at the couch before she tilted her head with a grimace.
"Do you even fit on that couch?" she called.
Carlos' laughter rang out from beyond the door and Jill shook her head before she considered his previous words.
Carlos hadn't cured her, and he hadn't provided her with redemption. No, he couldn't do that for her, Trent had been right about that; however, he had provided her with something more to think about. Instead of a counselor, who knew nothing about where she came from, telling her the same things, it was Carlos. Carlos who wasn't as close in professional partnership like Chris. Carlos who wouldn't withhold his anger but was honest in his compassion.
Carlos who wouldn't coddle her but would always challenge her when she needed it and would follow her if she wanted to lead.
And in truth, it was only Carlos she had allowed so close since she had been free.
Guilt towards Chris Redfield flooded her veins, and Jill recognized then that she owed her longtime friend and partner an apology. A big one.
When the door to the bathroom opened, Carlos walked up beside her as she stared out the window.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
Carlos seemed to understand because she could see him nodding from the corner of her eye.
"Will you stay?" he asked then.
Jill turned her head toward his and her heart nearly broke at the hopeful way he stared at her.
"Do you want me to?" she asked.
"Do you really have to ask that?" His hand closed around hers and he gave her a simple tug.
Jill followed him toward the couch, and she raised both brows to watch his large frame curl up on the furniture that was not made for someone his size.
"That really doesn't look comfortable for you," she admitted.
"Stop stalling, Valentine," he chuckled and leaned out to grab her hand again. The next tug he gave had her tumbling into him.
"You did that to yourself," Jill released in a laugh when he groaned at her shoulder smashing into his chest.
"Worth it," he wheezed. "Fuck, so worth it."
"If you say so," Jill said while she leaned on her elbow and tried to settle in appropriately as she laid in front of him.
They were both lying on their sides on the small couch. There was barely any room left over for Jill to lay and her knees hung over the side of the couch as she tried to curl herself inward.
"I do say so," he breathed when his hands grabbed her hips and brought her back into him.
His hand trailed down to her leg and he brought her feet back to tangle with his. His right arm was beneath his head for support and the trailing hand above her was tangling in her blonde strands.
Unexpected tears filled Jill's eyes and she was startled to find how very right she felt.
Safe.
She was safe like she had never felt before. When Carlos' other arm came back around to rest on her stomach, he must have caught sight of the tear that slipped out.
"Shit," he said quickly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that without asking. That was stupid—"
"No," she interrupted with a shake of her head. She tilted her head backwards and caught his worried gaze. "I'm just…it's ok, Carlos."
"You sure?" he asked with the worried look not fully disappearing.
Jill nodded before she grabbed the hand he had draped over her stomach. She was careful when she lifted it and placed her lips on the back of his hand before she set it back down.
The look that crossed his features then wasn't something she could recognize. It was a cross between yearning and something much deeper.
"Get some rest, Carlos." she whispered, watching him still.
"Please still be here when I wake up, Jill." Carlos' arm was tightening around her.
"I'll be here," she responded and meant it.
Sleep found Jill faster than any other time in living memory. Carlos' arm never left her waist and with his strong heartbeat at her back, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to imagine she had finally found a home.
The world seemed to be shaking when Jill opened her eyes next. Annoying light from the sun was reflecting off of something metal on the house across the way and it rebounded through Carlos' window and directly into her face.
"You awake?" Carlos' scratchy tone sounded off behind her.
That was when Jill realized it was him who was shaking.
"Oh, God," she uttered before she bolted upwards. "You need those meds. Why didn't you wake me up?"
"And ruin the best night of my life? What the hell, Valentine?" he chuckled groggily.
Jill glanced back to see his sweating but smiling face.
"You think that was the best night of your life?" she asked with a raised brow.
"Can you do me one better?" he raised his.
"Work on getting well and I might consider it." Jill winked before she stood.
"My God," Carlos murmured behind her. "A blush and a flirtatious remark all in the same 12 hours? I'm not gonna make it."
"Now you're the one stalling," she accused when she pulled the blanket he had off of him. "Get up, we need to get down to the healer's house."
"Fuck, you're mean after a night of cuddling." He was rolling to his feet with more strength than she had seen from him yesterday. She wouldn't inflate his ego at the moment, but he was more resilient than she gave him credit for.
"Speaking of which…" Jill asked before trailing off. She shook her head and went to grab her boots; hoping then he would just let the comment drop as an early morning thought.
"I'm listening," he answered while he stood and stretched.
No such luck to be had. She wasn't surprised.
"You, uh," she ran a hand through her hair and tried to figure out the best way to ask it.
"I…?" Carlos was picking up on her hesitance and toying with her to make it as difficult as possible.
Finding her spine, Jill asked, "You don't have a wife, or kids or anything that I should be worried about coming after me for cuddling with you or…"
"Can I hear the rest of that thought before I answer?" His half grin was sly while he peered at her in the early morning light.
"Never mind, I'll just—" she began.
"No, Jesus, don't change your mind now," He was pulling up a shirt from the corner where a few articles of clothing lay folded. "No, no wife, no kids, no nothing."
Jill watched the muscles in his stomach flex before she turned her eyes away when he caught her looking.
"Good," she finally decided to say after too long of a pause.
Feeling like she may be on the verge of embarrassing herself, Jill turned for the bathroom.
When had she last hit on a man anyway?
The sudden math in her head was starting to get really embarrassing.
Somehow, he managed to cross the small space quickly with his injuries and his shaking limbs. He caught her bicep and turned her around.
"Why do you ask?" his voice was warm and rumbling in her ears.
"You really don't have anyone after all this time?" She was skeptical.
"Is that surprising to you?" He was stepping closer to her.
"Well, it's just," she made an odd gesturing motion at his body, and it caused Carlos to laugh.
"Valentine," he uttered with delight. "Are you callin' me hot?"
A confident smirk was pulling at Jill's mouth before she could stop it.
"I just needed to know," his eyes brightened as she spoke. "So, I can—"
Carlos' door shook when someone knocked against it three times.
"Go away!" Carlos didn't take his eyes from hers or even turn when he shouted.
"Open up and put your clothes on," Alonzo's voice carried through the threshold.
"So, you can…?" Carlos asked, wanting her to continue her thoughts.
"You should probably get that." Jill gave him a promising smile and she could feel his eyes on her until she shut the bathroom door.
Jill heard the door open shortly after and she let out a small laugh when she heard Carlos say in Spanish, "This better be real fuckin' important."
"You still have my pants on." Alonzo's accusing voice filled the home now.
"Yeah?"
"You're an idiot. Did you let her get away?" Alonzo demanded.
"She's in the bathroom, asshole," Carlos snickered.
"Jill! Do we get to keep you?" Alonzo hollered loudly.
Jill finished her business before opening the door to see the two very similar brothers staring toward her direction. Alonzo with a very pleased looking grin and Carlos with one that held more heat.
"Please," Jill said with a hand coming up to her forehead to give it a gentle rub. "Please tell me this village has coffee. I don't know if I can handle both of you at once."
"Only Madris brews it this early, and lucky for the two of you, she's very pissy this morning," Alonzo turned toward Carlos. "You were supposed to come back last night."
"I was busy," Carlos said simply. He hadn't taken his eyes off Jill. "When did you learn Spanish, by the way?"
"I've known Spanish since I was 17," Jill admitted.
"So, all the things I was muttering to myself when we met in Raccoon…?" Carlos trailed off this time.
"Yep." Jill allowed the 'P' in the word to pop before she continued, "I know that you like jeans on me, and pretty much your deepest thoughts now, Oliveira."
"Not sure how deep that goes." Alonzo quipped with a shrug.
"Alright," Carlos swung his head over toward his brother before he hiked a thumb over his shoulder with his injured hand. "I think we can find our way. Alone."
Alonzo was squinting at Carlos' hand before he curled his own pinkie and ring finger in on one hand and made an odd grabbie-hand gesture with the remaining fingers.
"You little—" Carlos was lunging for Alonzo with the hand that was missing the fingers when Jill started laughing.
The laughter was a full, belly deep, cackling, and she opened her eyes to see both of the brothers staring at her like she had lost her mind. Jill was still laughing when she shooed them both forward and ushered them all out of the house.