Strength Through Wounding
AN - I don't know how I've written these last two chapter so quickly. This chapter I actually split in half. I'm trying to refrain from doing that because the story just keeps getting longer, but I feel it works much better this way, even if it did render this chapter a filler. I also amended the epilogue so now there are technically two epilogue chapters. I'll sort the formatting out and stuff when it comes to that, but after this chapter I estimate there to be 4 left (including the epilogues). I did have to shift things round with a sequel in mind, but again it works much better this way; the original ending was quite abrupt, but I feel this rounds things off quite nicely. When this story began, there were only nine chapters including the prologue and epilogue, lol. Anyway, I struggled a little with Jill at the end of this chapter thanks to the split but hopefully you all enjoy it.
Chapter title is from a song by Foo Fighters.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed: xSummonerYunax, Kenshin13, Razial, tek, cjjs, Devil Rebel, ditto9 and KT324. I haven't had time to reply to everyone this time, but I'll try and get back to you at some point. Thank you all for your comments!
Chapter Seven - Everlong
'I wonder if everything could ever feel this real forever,
If anything could ever be this good again.'
August 15, 1998. 9:42am.
It was curious that her sleep that night was dreamless; no nightmares, no death. Curious also that her sheets smelled different somehow, her arms encircled something warm and hard, and her pillow was not of the cotton she was familiar with. It was a strange shape, too, pressing against her nose and forehead, and emitting an unusual amount of heat. More than that, it breathed. Her pillow never breathed.
Her eyes opened suddenly, closing again quickly against the light she was not prepared for. As feeling returned to her body she became aware that her left leg was wrapped around another, her arm draped across a muscular torso. The chest beneath her cheek rose and fell in a steady rhythm, almost hypnotic in its repetition.
'Of course...'
Shamelessly, she inhaled against his skin, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent that was now tainted with evidence of the previous night. The concoction of pheromones and perspiration set every nerve alight as it passed through her body, making sure that she was aware of the way her body pressed to his, not even air between them.
It faded with the reality that came swooping down upon her. This was no dream, last night was no dream. She did not need the arm that held her to him to tell her this, nor the fingers that rested against her bare ribcage. No...in dreams he always left. He was here, his cheek resting against her forehead as regular breaths skimmed across her skin.
In dreams he was so much different, domesticated in comparison to the real thing. Nerves had almost crippled her as clothes had slowly been stripped away, but he had been so patient, and so careful. Yet still she had felt completely powerless in his arms, and quite overwhelmed. There were things she never knew her body capable of until now, limits she never dreamed would be in such close view. Too many men were afraid of embracing the animal they were deep down, but not Chris. In the pack of her previous lovers, he was definitely the alpha male. It seemed that Jill Valentine had finally met her match.
She had not known what it was that had brought her lips to his, only that a compliment had touched her tearful heart and rendered her common sense powerless to intervene in what followed. Was it comfort she had sought, or an answer? She had not requested what he had given her, and had expected him with all honesty to rebuff her advance. Why had he not?
Her pillow moved, a deep groan rumbling through his chest. Immediately, her eyes close and she steadied her breathing.
Expecting to be woken abruptly, she lay in still silence for longer than she cared to count. Little thought had been given to the consequences of their actions, though she was sure in that moment that guilt would force them apart, eyes would avert and she would dress in shame and amble back to her apartment, perhaps never to speak to him again.
As soothing to the soul as the previous night had been, she was not sure that she could live with a consequence so dire. It may have been a one night stand to him but it had meant so much more to her.
The fingers at her back moved, sliding from the sensual grip at her waist to a more tender hold higher up her torso. He was awake; she knew from the way his free fingers danced along her wrist. The dancing fingers suddenly hit a point where nerve endings protested to his touch and the traitorous appendage jerked suddenly against his chest.
'Time to face the music.'
She pretended to be woken by his unintentional - she assumed - tickle, raising her head groggily. Pain shot down her neck and across her shoulder, the price of such a romantic position hitting her unexpectedly. They made it look so comfortable in the movies.
His arm never once relented its hold, and when she gazed upon his face she saw the same fear that caused her unsteadiness. For some reason or another, she felt less uncomfortable knowing that she was not alone in her shyness.
Stepping back to where this had all began, she kissed him lightly, relaxing against him when he responded immediately. He pulled her closer, both hands now attending to her. All that he hid verbally came through in his kiss, sparks igniting everything capable of feeling within her.
Suddenly realising that neither was in their freshest state, they pulled apart, eyes meeting hopefully. Neither could find words to share, and Jill thought it better this way; this could potentially be the most awkward moment of her life.
"Well, look at that," he spoke in a low, rumbling voice, breaking the silence she had dared not touch. "You're even more beautiful in daylight."
No regret.
She longed to kiss him again, but something stopped her. Instead, she giggled. Jill Valentine never giggled. Who was this woman? Jill barely knew what laughter felt like any more.
As blissful ignorance faded, reality crept back upon them. What had they hoped to achieve? They were in the middle of their own personal war; a relationship was both dangerous and distracting at this point. Whatever lingered between them could not be allowed to survive that morning and these deceptively comforting moments.
"What's wrong?" Chris asked, the backs of his fingers brushing her cheek.
She laughed bitterly, knowing that he had seen it in her eyes. She was sure of her feelings for him now, and knew that he felt for her too, in whatever way that may be. It was too much to ask for love, but she found it pleasing to entertain the thought. Whatever it was, she had never before seen it in the eyes of a man whose attention was solely on her. It was both pleasing and terrifying.
"This didn't happen, did it?" she asked.
The fingers stilled, worry seeping into his expression. His rose-tinted glasses had been removed and she could tell that he did not like what he saw.
'Perhaps it is love?' she thought to herself. 'You love him, why not confess? If he feels the same would the outcome be so bad?'
Yes, it would. That was the problem. If Umbrella's surveillance tactics told them anything it was that they were not above targeting loved ones. If it ever became known that they were a couple, Umbrella could use that against them, could use them to hurt one another. Aside from that, concentration was of utmost importance. They had neither the time nor attention to spare for a relationship. If she was to be with Chris, she wanted it to work, not to fall apart amidst the pressure of the job.
For the sake of the fight, one night was all they had.
Chris did not answer, but she knew that he understood.
"I should go," she whispered, though she would much rather have remained with him. "You may not have to work, but I do."
There was no point in torturing herself; it was best if she cut herself off before it became truly painful.
"Jill, no," he begged, gripping her tightly as she moved away. "You're already late. Please, stay...just a little while."
"Chris, I can't."
But he already knew this.
All he was asking for was a little more time with her, while it was still on their side. Would that be such a crime?
"The real world is out there," he told her. "The day starts when you want it to. Until then..."
Until then, they could be with one another. The though was enough to make her never want to leave his apartment. Still, she pulled away, fighting against his hold.
"I'm not letting you go," he smirked. Though she continued to fight, a laugh betrayed her stoic attitude.
"Chris, you have to-"
"Nuh-uh," he joked. "My apartment, my rules. You can't leave until I say you can."
Ashamed though she was to admit it, she felt certain parts of her body - parts that had been neglected until quite recently - awaken at his words. This was not real, it was not how it could be. He was kidding himself and they both knew it.
However, she could tell from the intensity of his desperate eyes that he needed more time, and suddenly refusal became an impossibility. Impossible also was a way out of his arms, so tight was his hold on her.
"Thank you," he sighed as she leaned back onto his chest, losing herself to selfish emotion.
The twisted sheet barely covered them both, concealing all that mattered below the waist but exposing everything else. As a result, she was afforded a glimpse of the light bruising that was his healing fracture. It caused her to think of her own scars, and all that he had witnessed last night. He had not cared that her body was not in immaculate condition. It had not been a show, nor a call to impress.
He had called her beautiful...and this time he was not drunk.
Succumbing to the heat her incredibly appealing pillow exuded, she drifted once again into unconsciousness.
"Barry!"
Rebecca gripped his arms, almost knocking his recently-acquired coffee clean out of his hands. Worry radiated from her every pore, tears threatening to spill from frantic eyes.
"Well good morning to you, too," he laughed nervously, raising the Styrofoam cup far out of her reach. "What's wrong? Irons on the rampage again?"
"No!" she cried. "It's Jill. Barry, she's gone. I don't know where she is."
"Have you checked the locker room?"
"I'm serious!" she insisted, and suddenly his attention was completely devoted to her words. He had never seen her so riled up. "She wasn't there when I got back last night and I thought she was in bed but when I woke up this morning she wasn't there, but her cell phone was in the kitchen and it didn't look like her bed had been slept in. I thought maybe she'd come in early, but nobody has seen her and I can't find her at all."
She knew that she spoke far too quickly for him to have understood a word, but he seemed to get the gist of what she was trying to say.
"Have you tried calling Chris?" he asked. "He might know where she is."
"Yes! He's not picking up. He's probably not even home. Officer Branagh said he'd look out for her, but-"
"Okay, Rebecca," Barry spoke calmly. "First, you have to calm down. Getting hysterical isn't going to help anyone."
She breathed deeply, concentrated on every intake and expulsion of air. It was so difficult to remain calm when a number of their group was missing. Following her attack, she knew the possibilities of what could have happened to her friend.
"That's good," Barry soothed. "Did you check the answer machine last night? Were there any messages?"
"No," she answered, puzzled by the question. What did that have to do with anything?
"Then she was definitely in her apartment last night," he explained. "She probably came in early, so why don't we split up and search the station? I'm sure she's alright, Rebecca, she's more than capable of looking after herself."
Her mind settled at this realisation. Of course, she had left a message late last night. Cursing her pessimism, she agreed to Barry's plan of action. At least he was still capable of straight thinking. It was horrifying to consider the worst that could have happened, but that was all she seemed to do in the wake of her assault. The thought that Jill had suffered something much worse was worrying to say the least.
As she watched Barry walk quickly away, she brought her hands to her arms, chasing away the chill that always hit her in these halls. Bertolucci's information had done nothing to ease her already nervous mind, and the knowledge that she was potentially crossing the paths of countless Umbrella agents and bribe-receiving members of the Raccoon business sector unnerved her further still. She no longer saw ordinary citizens, she saw potential threats.
She turned on her heel and set off back towards the entrance hall. Work would have to wait. Concern of this degree was unexpected as well as unwanted.
Today of all days, she knew that little attention would fall her way.
Though the clock told that an hour had passed, Jill found this hard to accept. She had barely adjusted to the thought of waking in his room when Chris moved again, sleepless rest becoming uncomfortable.
"Do you want something to eat?" he asked, startling her out of her stupor. "It's a little late for breakfast, but I could whip something up."
"No," she groaned. Food would mean unwinding herself from his limbs and though it had previously seemed like a good idea, separating from his hold now held no appeal whatsoever. "But I should probably leave. Rebecca will be worried."
Though he hummed agreement with her suggestion, he made no attempt to push her away and she made none to pull. She realised now that he had voiced a valid point earlier; the real world existed only outside of his apartment and the choice to face it was made only with a step through the front door. That one step would take her away from him, for an indefinite period of time that would be too long for her liking.
"Mind if I use your shower?" she grumbled. The sooner she wiped his scent from her skin, the sooner she could begin to let go.
"Mind if I join you?" he joked, her body shaking with his as he laughed. "Knock yourself out, there should be clean towels in there."
He caught her lips as she moved, claiming her one last time. It was almost enough to bring her back to him, but this time she was adamant in her resistance. Memories returned as his teeth raked across the tender flesh of her bottom lip. He knew exactly what he was doing; he appeared to have paid more attention to her reactions last night than she had thought.
"You're devious," she sighed when he allowed her to pull back. Before he could further persuade her, she pushed herself upright, trying hard not to allow her eyes to fall on his body.
His laughter followed her off the bed, forcing a smile as she fumbled for her clothing. It was not her own T-shirt that had fallen closest to her, but Chris's, and so it was this that she reached for, chuckling softly at the irony. Would he notice if she took it home with her?
Something caught the light as she lifted the T-shirt; a small, ripped packet that had rested atop the folded fabric. It touched her that he had the decency to remember protection. She had been out of her mind in the most wonderful yet dangerous sense; so concerned with being with him, she had forgotten the less pleasant consequences of sex. Truthfully, the thought frightened her. She had always been careful, always alert to risks. Everything she had known went out the window where he was concerned, and now it was evident that this was not always a good thing.
The night before washed away beneath Chris's shower head, her skin cleaned by his soap, hair washed with his shampoo. Life was certainly going to make forgetting this experience as difficult as possible. For this reason, she showered hastily, deciding that she could wash off any excess grime at the station.
When she re-emerged in the bedroom, Chris had begun to clothe himself, pulling on the T-shirt she had dropped last night in lieu of the stolen item.
Her jeans were found quickly, her T-shirt a little harder to locate and her panties almost completely out of sight. She considered asking where he had thrown them, until she realised the awkwardness of such a question. In the end, she thought herself lucky to locate every item...except for one.
Chris watched her curiously as she searched through the damp sheets, under the bed and even throwing an instinctive glance to the lampshade.
"What's wrong?" he asked eventually.
"My bra," she cried desperately. "I can't find my Goddamn bra!"
She felt the awkwardness of the silence that fell, broken only when he spoke hesitantly.
"Jill, you uh...you weren't wearing one."
She froze, could feel her entire body burn furiously.
'Yup, that'll do it.'
He felt it too, she could tell from his stance and ashamedly averted gaze.
"Do you want me to-?" he began, cutting himself short and hoping she understood his meaning.
"Yeah."
Chris left suddenly without a word, leaving her to dress alone. She sank to the mattress once she was sure he was gone, and shook the embarrassment from her skin.
Something had changed whilst she was in the bathroom. She had left a lover in the bed, but walked out to find a friend. It seemed that both their minds had begun to adjust to the reality they faced. Previously he had loved her in all her flawed glory, now he had simply seen her naked. She did not know which was more difficult to deal with; the agony of isolated love or the awkwardness that was offered as an alternative.
She dressed quickly, folding his T-shirt neatly at the bottom of the bed in a move that she did not fully understand.
"You sure you don't want any...brunch?" he asked when she joined him in the chaotic living room. The mess seemed far more catastrophic than it had in darkness. Her mind told her that an offer to help tidy would be an excuse to remain a little while longer, but her common sense appeared to be making up for its absence the previous night and shot the idea down in an instant.
"Definitely," she assured him. "I'll get something to eat at the station."
She waited by the door, tugging at the sleeves of her jacket. It was an old thing, kept only as something comfortable to laze around her apartment in. Frayed cuffs, faded colour; she must have looked a mess.
The closer Chris moved to her, the more uncomfortable she felt, yet the more irresistible the urge to stay became. She was sure that a migraine would not be far off if she could not separate what she felt and what she knew to be appropriate.
"Listen, I meant everything I said last night," he was sure to let her know. "I can't promise that I won't hurt you again - I don't want to lie to you. But whatever I do, wherever I go, I will always come back."
Why did he have to make this so difficult? Part of her preferred the asshole he had been, because there was another truth he had spoken last night; anger was easier to deal with, hatred less painful to tolerate.
He had been honest with her; it was more than she could ever ask for.
"Thank you," she sighed as she pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his waist in the hope that he would return the favour. She did not know what she was thanking him for. She was thankful for him in so many ways it was difficult to specify just one.
They remained suspended in temporary affection, unspoken words swirling ominously around them. Yes, there was no doubt that something was there; something shared, something wonderful. How had she not noticed it before?
"Jill," Chris spoke, so softly that she barely heard his voice. "I- I have to tell you something. I should have told you long before now, but I've been such a damn coward."
Her eyes opened, stomach winding itself into a painful knot. She knew by his tone that he referred to something deep-seated and personal, something she was certain would break every silent rule they had laid down.
"Jill, I-"
"Don't," she interrupted, her voice barely a semitone from a plea. Whatever it was, she did not want to hear it. If it was what her heart felt hung on his lips, it would set the point of no return. She felt it also, oh was that ever true. She felt it and she knew that the words would hang over both of their heads from now until the fall of Umbrella. If she heard those words, she would never be able to separate her feelings from reality, and neither would he if he spoke them.
Her head no longer resting against his chest, she could see that her interjection confused him. Pulling away completely now, she swallowed deeply.
"Save it," she requested. "Umbrella... We have to keep focused on bringing them down. Whatever you need to say, save it. Save it until there is no danger. If, after everything is done, you still mean it...I'll be waiting. I'll listen."
If he did not mean it...
She could not see her own feelings changing, and knew that it would break what little was left of her heart on that day. But no true harm would be done, not to their friendship. She would move on, and she would still have her best friend.
Chris silently agreed. His eagerness was touching, but his grip on reality was not as it usually was. Though it visibly troubled him, he accepted her deal.
"You need to tell the others about the G Virus," she told him. "You also need to tell them you're leaving. Barry is flying to Canada soon, he'll want to join you when his family is settled."
When no reply came, she pressed her left hand to his cheek, relishing the warmth of his skin against her palm.
"Take care of yourself," he begged quietly.
Rising up onto the balls of her feet, she pressed her lips to his cheekbone, feeling his breath skim along her jaw. Anything more would have been inappropriate, anything less an insult to what they felt.
With no more words remaining to be spoken, she bade him one final farewell and stepped back into a world that looked a little less bleak on this side of midnight.
There was no sign of Barry, nor of their missing teammate. Even Brad had been recruited into the search, sent to comb the streets around Jill's neighbourhood.
Rebecca did not know what to think. Her mind told her to remain calm and rational, but the nervous teenager within feared the worst.
The locker room was the one place she had always been able to retreat to, the one place where her mind could wind down and focus.
She held her cell phone before her eyes again, dialling Jill's number with haste. Once again, there was no answer.
'This is ridiculous,' she sighed inwardly. 'There are a million things you could be doing right now, rather than sitting here sulking'.
Yes, there were a million things she would have preferred to be doing today, but duty called as it always did. Her parents had not called, and likely would not. It was safer for them this way. In less than a week she would see them; a bittersweet farewell as she helped them to relocate far away from Umbrella's evil eye.
Canada seemed to be the safest option. While Umbrella operated across the border, their presence in the northern country was minimal at best. The power of publicly-funded health care appeared to be one of Umbrella's few visible weaknesses. Barry would move his family, and Rebecca's parents would be housed nearby. She had no siblings, nor any other close relatives for whom she should be worried. Large families had the tendency to feel isolated at times.
Something scurried between her feet, darting beneath the bench she occupied. Though she had not seen the critter clearly, the general shape and hint of many limbs send her leaping for the opposite bench. Controlled primarily by instinct, she found herself laughing at her skittish movement.
The spider had frozen just beneath the bench, nowhere to go but back into the open. A month ago she would have labelled it as large and ran screaming through the halls of the precinct. Now...she had faced far worse.
"Can you see anything?"
Chris's voice came to her slightly muffled, distant and weary. How could she tell him that she had crawled with her eyes shut? Confined spaces made her uncomfortable enough - the floor level air vent bringing a heavy blanket of claustrophobia down upon her - but it was the cobwebs that set her nerves crawling. It was an irrational fear, but a fear nonetheless. She hated the sight of anything with more than four legs; it just wasn't natural.
"No," she grunted. Why had she even crawled into the suffocating space in the first place? To crawl through to the next room and unlock a door? That was nowhere near good enough a reason for this.
Something touched her hand, prickly and cold. From the bare light of her torch she caught a glimpse of a leg, of hairs that truly should not have been attached to such a grotesque limb.
She found it strange that the first thought to cross her mind was 'But don't tarantula burrow?'.
An ear-piercing shriek was drawn from her and she flailed about, body ricocheting off the sides of the wooden vent. Boards creaked, something snapped and suddenly she was plummeting through the air, the tarantula, splintered wood and a mass of cobwebs falling at her side.
Her scream followed her to the soft ground, the surface bending beneath her weight. She barely had time to compose herself before the smell reached her, forcing a disgusted hand to her mouth.
The hole she had fallen through was visible in the low ceiling, barely eight feet from the ground. Thick silk lined the walls, an assortment of arachnids visible beneath the shimmering surface.
Suddenly, something dropped from the ceiling, landing but a few feet from her.
"You alright?" Jill asked, her attention on the rookie before she had even caught her balance.
"I'm...fine," Rebecca shuddered, the light pressure of the tarantula's legs echoing across her skin. "Sorry, I panicked. Damn bugs."
"Jill? Is she alright?" Chris's voice called from up above.
"She's fine!" Jill called back, laughing lightly at the strangeness of the situation. There was no possible way they could both climb back to the room they had fallen from, and though there was a single door in the basement room, they had no way of knowing where it led.
"Stay where you are! I'll find another way down."
"We should probably get out of here," Jill suggested. "He'll never find us."
Rebecca smiled awkwardly. She would accept any excuse to leave that room.
Another scuttle, this time louder. Were there more of them? Scratches, drawn out against the strange yellow substance that lined the floor.
Suddenly, the floor lurched.
"What the hell was that?"
Jill remained silent, bringing a finger to her lips. Silken fibres beneath their feet rose and fell with a flurry of movement, enough to bring them together and balance their weight off one another.
"Oh no," Jill muttered. "No, that's not possible."
"What isn't?"
Rebecca caught movement out of the corner of her eye, something long, spindly and translucent tearing through the floor several feet away. A body emerged, smooth skin with an orange hue. Her grip on her comrade tightened, every hair on her body standing to attention.
"They're egg sacs," Jill groaned, her eyes darting between the numerous mounds that lined the floor of the web-encased room.
She was right; it was not possible. She had seen newborn spiders, newborn tarantula even; they were miniscule, barely visible to the naked eye. These were at least the size of her hand, some larger.
Her lips parted, the question of what could have produced hatchlings so large resting precariously on the tip of her tongue.
Something moved behind them, eight impossibly long legs stretching as they carried a leathery, bulbous body across the farthest sac. An impossible number of eyes fixed on them as it paused, unmoving except to adjust against the soft sac.
Then, it charged. Unable to move, Rebecca was grateful for Jill's presence as she was pulled out of the way, hatchlings bursting beneath her feet. hundreds of legs bore down upon them, the door looming too far in the distance.
"Run!"
Rebecca snapped her mind back to the moment. It was not a memory she was keen to relive, not now, not ever. Despite the horror that had still not quite found its way out of her system, her experiences within the walls of that mansion had acted as a rather unconventional form of psychological flooding.
She looked upon the spider before her not as a threat or an object of terror, but rather as something that was relatively harmless in contrast to what it could have been.
She stepped down from the bench, reached into her open locker for a plastic container that had once held an early morning snack. In one swift move, she trapped the spider, holding the lid loosely to prevent its escape.
With more disgust than unease, she returned to the hall, leaning forward to shake her captive out of the open window.
"And don't come back," she warned it.
Her endeavour brought a smile to her face, and she stared down her reflection with pride. So much had changed in such a short space of time. Her high school graduation had barely been a year ago, yet she felt as though she had aged seven in that time.
Clutching at youthful innocence was futile; she doubted that she had any to begin with. Their burden was one no one should face, yet she shouldered it before she was of legal drinking age. The thought alone would have driven any normal mind insane, but Rebecca knew that hers was far from normal and for once in her life she was proud of that fact.
"Happy birthday, Rebecca," she sighed, turning at last from her reflection in the glass.
She had grown used to her birthday passing forgotten, and each year it bothered her more than the last...but not this time. She did not care that the others perhaps did not know her well enough to understand the importance of today, did not care that another milestone would pass uneventful.
'Is this how it feels like to grow up?' she asked herself as she returned to the locker room, replacing the plastic tub and making a mental note to wash it thoroughly.
Just as she pressed closed the metal door, the door behind her swung open forcefully, a familiar figure rushing to a nearby locker.
"Jill?"
Jill jumped, unaware that the room was already occupied.
"Oh God," she gasped, hand to her chest. "Rebecca, you scared the hell out of me."
"Oh, you're one to talk," Rebecca fumed, unfamiliar anger rising in her chest. "Where the hell have you been? We've all been worried out of our minds!"
Jill paused, turning from her momentarily.
"I'm sorry," she apologised. "I should have called. I, uh- I left early this morning, had something to do."
Though she had never heard a lie pass the woman's lips before, Rebecca could tell that this was a poor attempt at one.
"In that old thing?" she asked, nodding at the old jacket. Her hair was uncombed, eyes a little more tired than usual, and when she stepped close enough, the scent of unfamiliar shampoo drifted towards her.
"Jill, were you out all night?"
There was only one possible explanation for her being in such a state if this were true. When an answer was not offered, she gasped, partly from shock and partly in annoyance.
"I've been panicking all morning because you decided to take off and have sex?" Her voice was a hurried whisper.
"Rebecca, please drop it," Jill pleaded, pulling a clean uniform from her locker and beginning to undress.
Rebecca wanted to press the matter, but the desperation in her friend's tone made it so that she could do nothing but obey. If pleasure was her way of dealing with what they all felt, then she was in no position to scold her. It was her life, her decisions, her possible mistake.
"Just call next time, okay?" she sighed.
Before the situation could escalate into an argument, she took note of Jill's uncomfortable body language and left her to the loneliness she silently requested.
"And I thought my sixteenth was strange," she muttered to herself as she made her way back to the office.
Though she felt much better in her clean uniform, Jill continued to wish that she had found the sense to walk home first rather than heading straight for the station. At least then she could have showered with her own toiletries and not have alerted Rebecca to her seemingly sordid night.
She was only glad that she always kept a spare uniform in her locker, otherwise she would have well and truly dropped herself in it.
Snapping her mind back to her plans for the lab investigation was proving difficult with the absence of her morning routine and the knowledge that she had turned up almost three hours late.
Barry brushed off her sudden reappearance and Brad had acted in much the same way. Of course, the men of the team knew that she could fight her way out of the majority of situations and had more sense than half the precinct put together. She would not have allowed herself to stumble into a dangerous situation, let alone face the need to find her way out of one.
Together with Brad, she had hashed out a rough plan for gathering Intel, mostly involving the monitoring of the main entrance points to the lab and more below-board activities and general sneakiness. If everything went to plan, they would be out of Raccoon in a little over a month.
"Okay, Barry," Rebecca announced as she entered the office in a flurry of movement. "I have us booked on a flight on the twenty-sixth. We fly out from Stoneville, arrive in Alberta. We'll have to drive to the airport, but my cousin said he can pick us all up when we arrive and drive us to Saskatoon. It's safer that way."
Jill listened to the conversation with intent. Had Chris called them yet?
"Thank you," Barry replied, exhausted relief weighing down his words.
In just over a week, they would all be gone. She assumed that Chris would fly with them, perhaps even fly out earlier so that he could prepare wherever it was they would be staying in Paris.
Paris was a beautiful city, one she had seen in passing but had not been offered the time to explore in the way such a place deserved. It pained her to understand the circumstances that would bring her to the city again.
The office door swung open, though she paid no attention to its movement. Everything seemed so bleak now, her time in Raccoon winding to a close. While it had not been perfect, it had been home and she would be sad to turn her back on the happy times she had found there.
"Well I'll be damned," Barry chuckled, pulling her violently back to reality. "Knew you couldn't stay away."
She turned to the new presence in the room, fighting against the rising corners of her lips when she saw the man Barry addressed. Not only had he showered and shaved the layer of stubble she felt suited him quite well, but he had also found his way into uniform; he had certainly not stumbled into the office by accident.
"Ran out of beer," Chris joked, eyes finding hers within moments. "Figured I'd find something better here."
Even in her momentarily dazed state, she recognised that the latter statement had been directed at her. Strangely, she did not feel flattered or pleased at the knowledge that it was she who had led him to return. No, she felt intimidated. Never before had she realised how well his uniform suited his boyishly muscular form, or how the glint in his eye as he flashed that crooked smile seared through flesh and bone to hit where it really counted. He would not have looked out of place in army fatigues, with a cigarette between his lips and rifle resting casually on one shoulder. Somehow, she knew it was a look he had likely worn in days past.
As though his uniform shone as a symbol of masculinity, she suddenly felt way out of her league; like a band geek facing up to the captain of the football team. It ashamed her that she thought of their differences in terms of high school analogies, but that was how he made her feel; as though she were in inexperienced school girl just trying to make sense of her feelings. It was ridiculous; she was a grown woman, had manoeuvred her way through several tricky relationships and dealt with the superficial affections of many colleagues. Why was it so different with Chris?
She tuned out the voices of her teammates as the new information was brought to light. Discomfort and the desire to forge ahead with her own plans overpowered her sense of what would appear conspicuous. Fortunately the others did not appear to notice that she was not absorbing Chris's rather important discovery.
In the end, they all agreed with his plan of action and it was decided that Chris would leave the city shortly before the others, who would join him once their families were settled.
"We should be done by the end of September," Brad explained, drawing her unintentionally into the conversation. "If we don't find anything within a month it's unlikely we'll find anything at all."
"Yeah," Chris agreed. "There's not point wasting time here."
And so it was settled; Brad would remain in Raccoon with Jill, the others would abscond and wait for their arrival.
It was only a month, but after so much had gone wrong in one night she could not help but be host to unsettling trepidation. With so much to do in the next week, this may be the last instance they would all be together for quite a while.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Barry announced, dipping into the cupboard of his desk.
Jill smiled, knowing exactly what his intentions were. She was glad that he had offered to take care of the task himself; had it fallen to her, she would have likely forgotten.
As the small cake was lifted onto Wesker's empty desk, she forced herself to throw an apologetic smile to Rebecca. Of all the days she could have heaped more stress onto her shoulders, today was by far the worst.
"W-what is this?" Rebecca stammered, crossed arms falling straight by her side.
"We were sifting through the personnel files the other day," Jill explained. "We know, Rebecca. Happy birthday."
The young rookie appeared visibly stunned. The question of why she had not revealed the meaning of the day was not one Jill was careful to dwell on; they all had their reasons for silence, and a celebration seemed inappropriately out of place. Had her own come about at such a difficult time, she would have shied away from attention herself.
"You bought me a cake?"
They all laughed at her disbelief, and though she tried to conceal her happiness, a smile broke through.
All work was cast aside in favour of their friend, though at the request of the birthday girl they refrained from bursting into song. The cake was cut, several cans of soda cracked open for an on-duty toast.
Somewhere amongst the chatter and deliciously soft sponge cake, normal found its way into the office, gracing them with its presence for what promised to be the last reprieve for a long time.
Amidst the carefree laughter, Jill's mind wandered to possibilities she was not entirely sure of. What would happen next? If they succeeded in bringing Umbrella to justice, would their lives be able to fall so easily back into place? She had never given much thought to her future, but knew that somewhere along the line she would not have minded a husband to be involved, and children she would complain about but love nonetheless. They were simple wishes, elements of a normal life she had taken for granted until now. What if they lost? Would they fight until old age claimed them, dedicating their life to a fight that yielded no victory, not even change?
From here on out, all that was certain was uncertainty.
"Where did that smile go?" Chris asked as he slumped down into his chair. She had half a heart to answer with the truth, but knew that it would only bring him down and would not help ease her own mind.
"Left it in my locker," she laughed lightly. "I might need it again some day; didn't want to damage it."
She moved aside a little as he wheeled his chair closer to her desk, laying his slice of cake next to her keyboard.
"I'd help you find another one," he spoke nonchalantly, surprising her with the casual nature of his jest. Where was the man she had fought with for so long?
"Have you changed your mind about Paris yet?" he asked when she let silence flourish.
"Have you?"
"Touché," he laughed, almost choking on cake.
The idea of him travelling to a foreign country on his own frightened her in the same way his insistence on moving so close to Umbrella's main HQ did. Clinging to the philosophy of 'the closer you are to danger, the farther you are from harm', she forced herself to believe that it would all work out in their favour.
Dropping her disheartening thoughts, she turned to her own plate and groaned in frustration when she found that she had already consumed her sizeable portion of cake. Comfort eating was another habit she did not wish to fall into.
"You want some?" Chris asked, noticing the direction of her hungry eyes.
For some reason, the word "no" translated into an eager nod. She could not recall the last time her own thoughts had been lost in translation.
Chris broke off an unfairly large portion, careful to catch a particularly creamy area. Rather than hand the helping to her, he held it out, crumbling cake resting between thumb and forefinger.
In an instant she knew that it was inappropriate, that she could not possibly eat it out of his hand. The others would see, they would ask questions and jump to conclusions.
But this was not the first time he had fed her in such a way, often teasing her with his actions. She had never refused in the past, had even 'accidentally' bitten his fingers once. It was platonic and held little connotations, yet her mind began to explain the many reasons for taking it with her own fingers and feeding herself.
It was perhaps a good thing that she paid little attention to her mind those days.
Just as she leaned forward, Chris moved his hand, squashing the cake against her upper lip.
"Oops," he laughed cruelly. Who was he kidding? It was no accident.
Her shoulders fell with an irritated sigh. What did she expect?
She caught the cream with her tongue, pulling the larger chunks of sponge from the mess with her fingertips before she even thought of cleaning what her tongue could not reach.
As it transpired, she did not need to worry herself with this matter, Chris's fingers bringing a tissue to her skin. He moved slowly, wiping the cream and crumbs away as he used his bent forefinger beneath her chin to tilt her head back just a fraction of an inch.
Having been closed at that point, Jill's eyes opened, unintentionally locking with his as he went about his work. Everything froze in that moment, from time to the soiled napkin. Something crackled in the air, reason slowly slipping away. She knew that look, and the feeling; it had preceded the kiss that had changed everything between them.
Reason returned with violent urgency, common sense hammering against her skull, hoping to knock some sense home before the change turned sour.
She turned away, pulling from his tender hold.
"Be careful, Chris," she begged quietly, not quite understanding the smile he suddenly wore.
"I'll try," he joked as he turned back to the cake, presumably to make a serious offer this time.
Why was he smiling? Did everything have to be a joke to him?
"That's not what I meant," she clarified in a harsher tone than intended. Her heart beat heavily against her lungs, breaths coming to her sporadically.
The sudden darkness in his eyes drove her to turn away, frantic beats ceasing abruptly. She did not quite know what to do with herself, but she turned from him, vacating her desk in search of distraction.
She did not understand what she had seen, did not understand what her words could have meant to him.
Somewhere along the line, she had forgotten how easy it was to hurt him.
AN - Please review :)