CHAPTER 13 – The Outsider
A revelation in the light of day
You can't choose what stays and what fades away
And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
Tell me what you want me to say.
Florence and the Machine
We're going nowhere fast
You're just jealous.
Drop Dead Gorgeous
"Wesker?", Jill says into the empty hallway.
She believes to have heard something.
No answer.
She swallows. Where the hell is he keeping his Magnum again?
The sound of an opening elevator door.
And it is him. Truly him. Coming back to her.
She believes to burst out in tears with relief.
But she won't let it show, because the way he has left her was humiliating and careless.
That he had the nerve to leave her down here. Without protection. Alone.
But it hasn't been more than an hour and he has returned.
"Has your conscience pricked you?", she asks, when he stops in front of her.
He doesn't answer.
"Have you seen anything?", she tries instead.
"No. Snowstorm."
"Well, great. What are we going to do now?"
"Nothing", he growls in reply, while stepping away towards the lab. "Nothing but wait."
The door slams close and Jill is left alone.
Like an outsider.
The wind is crashing against the tent, making it dangerously bend inwards.
Tiny hard pieces of snow keep raining against its fabric.
A drumming sound. Like the devil's tattoo.
Nebraska and Chris are sitting in it. After less than five hours of sleep.
They can't continue their journey until the snowstorm has stopped. It's too dangerous.
They have hardly talked since waking up. And that was fifteen minutes ago.
Chris' gaze is set on the pan before him, warming some water for tea.
"I'm bored", Nebraska sighs.
"Well, sorry I don't have any board games or other entertainment to give you", he replies sarcastically.
"How about we talk?", she suggests, wrapping the blanket even tighter around her.
Admittedly she is cold this morning. But that's normal after waking up.
Usually she always had wonderfully warm Wesker in her bed.
And even if she was cold, he always found ways to 'warm her up'.
"About what?"
"I dunno … Q and A, you know."
He throws a side glance to her.
Right now she looks more innocent than yesterday. That crazy look in her eyes is gone, her hair messy, her cheeks having some color in them.
It's like she's a different person. But for how long?
Chris inhales, putting his gloves back on. "Then shoot."
"Do you love Jill?"
"Quite the first question you chose there … it's none of your business."
"Oh come on … this isn't what Q and A is about. You have to be honest."
"Aren't you talking about truth or dare?"
She shows him a smug smile. "We could also play that."
Chris only rolls his eyes and grabs for the mug next to him to pour some of the warm water in it.
His throat really hurts this morning and so he is looking forward to drink something hot.
He hopes, he won't catch a cold. On all places to be, this is the last one, he wishes to become ill.
"Do you know what I like to do, when it's so uncomfortable outside?", she suddenly asks.
"Read a book?", he suggests tiredly, while he dips the bag containing the herbal tea into the liquid.
"Hmm", she chuckles. "Almost …"
She peels the blanket off her shoulders and goes on her knees to inch her way towards him, slightly tilting her head.
"What are you doing?", he asks warily.
"Entertain myself", she answers and puts her lips on his.
He moves his head away from her. "Stop it."
"Oh come on. What else is there to do anyway?"
Being stronger than him because of her virus, she captures his wrists and mounts him.
"Just a little bit", she says and kisses him again. This time with more hunger.
Her hands rub over his stubbly chin and cheeks, while he has no idea where to put his.
"Nebraska, I'm serious", he tries to save himself once more, when she gives him a second to breathe.
She is like a nymph putting her poisonous and luring song into his head, fogging up his mind.
As much as he wants it, he can't get away.
There is something off with her. Not only in her head, but also in her body.
She tastes delicious. Like a forbidden fruit. But one that will kill you, if you take one single bite.
She smells like heaven. But it's a perfume that robs your ability to have control.
She is everything that a man wants to have, but then too much to bear at the same time.
She is simply inhuman.
Now her tongue draws a trail along his jawline, while her hand inches its way over his hard stomach towards his crotch.
This is where inexplicably to him his mind snap backs to reality.
He pushes her off him with force, immediately grabbing for his combat knife.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?"
"Have you never been seduced by a woman?" There's a truly amused smile on her face. "Oh calm down … I was just entertaining myself."
"I'm sure you'll find another way to do so", he says, narrowing his eyes.
"Do you even know how to have fun, Redfield?", she sighs.
"I do. But our expectations of a good time seem to be different, I guess."
Nebraska decides to go back to being serious. "You really love her, don't you?"
He doesn't answer. Only keeps pointing his knife at her.
"Of course you do", she states. "I can see it in that lovesick look in your eyes … explain to me, why you still bring up such emotions for her after I have told you that she has been doing nothing but fucking Wesker the past few years?"
He shrugs, blind jealousy darkening his features. "You wouldn't understand. There's more behind all of this than just this woman."
"Don't you think, I love him too?", she says quietly. Bitterly. Pulling up her knees to her chest.
Chris snorts, but finally decides to put the knife away. "How can you love a monster like that?"
"He isn't always like that … I have seen other sides of him. Sides you wouldn't even know he's capable of showing … to you he is probably nothing but layer after layer of purest evil."
"No, he is not", Chris answers, catching her surprised gaze. "I know other sides of him too. Sides that I even admired … back when he was my Captain."
"So you worked together?", she asks. "Wesker has never mentioned this. Well, maybe he has … I just don't remember anymore."
"And so did Jill", Chris continues, eyeing her sharply.
"Oh … this explains a lot", she says, watching the ground of the tent.
"What do you mean?"
"Well … just the way he is treating her … the way they seem to be synchronized in everything. It's almost sickening to watch. Just as sickening as listening to their words. And watching their actions. It's like they are enjoying to teach each other things. Or that fight for dominance …"
Two hectic stains appear on her cheeks, caused by the rising anger deep within her. "I often heard them at night, you know. And stuff they said to each other in bed …"
"I don't want to hear it", Chris interrupts her fiercely.
She looks at Chris' pale face. "I'm sorry … I shouldn't have said that."
He couldn't bear it. The thought alone is lasting on him like a heavy weight ready to destroy him.
The actual words of what they were doing together, saying to each other, would mean the end.
Physical activities between them are terrible enough to imagine, but having to hear what words they whispered, sighed and moaned at each other during their unisons would kill him.
"I will leave you alone now with it, don't worry," she says.
"Revenge sex might be the first thing that comes to your mind in a situation like this. But it won't bring you anywhere … we're adults, aren't we? There are always other ways to solve this."
"Yes, there are", she admits. Not completely convinced though, because the way Wesker has hurt her runs too deep into her system.
She has always been a person, who likes to pay someone in their own coin.
Even after having lost her memory the details that formed her character once, have never vanished.
And she still enjoyed her dish of revenge served cold and sweet.
Chris Redfield will be a part of her play, if he wants it or not.
But her plan definitely needs more thinking through. More cunning.
He doesn't need to know this. At least not yet.
She shows him a fake smile of reassurance and puts the blanket back on her shoulders.
"So … how about some truth or dare?"
The next day the weather welcomes them in the same mood like yesterday.
Stormy. Even colder. Even more unmerciful.
Chris wakes up with a terrible headache that makes him groan, when he tries to sit up.
There's a slight coat of sweat lying on his skin, sticking his clothes to his body no matter the cold.
Great. Fever. He got it then. He's ill.
He coughs, each wave pounding the same aching spot in his head like a hammer.
"You alright?" Nebraska's sleepy voice from next to him.
"I'm a million bucks", he growls, falling down on the rudimental cushion.
"I bet you are", she gives back sarcastically.
Ignoring him she struggles up into a sitting position and starts a fire.
Cold, nagging wind briefly blows into their slightly warmer tent as she opens it to grab a handful of snow to throw into the pan.
"What are you doing?"
"Making you something warm obviously. You're ill."
He can do nothing but accept the soup she is handing him after twenty minutes.
"Why are you doing this?", he wants to know, admittedly relished in the taste of it.
His beaten body is more than thankful for it.
Nebraska shrugs. "You and I still have a job to do, Redfield."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
She smiles that uneasy smile.
That smile that makes her look like a panther.
Jill turns the water in the shower on. Closing her eyes for a minute.
When she opens them again, she glances at Nebraska's things.
Her shampoo. Her body wash.
Looking at all the things his true lover has left.
The water rains on the top of her head, sticking her hair down and she stares over to the sink.
To see her variety of scents. Her red lipstick.
Red that left marks all over his body, when she pleased him at night.
She wants to grab it all and shatter it to the ground.
Instead she takes one of the bottles and squeezes a big amount of her body wash into the cupped palm of her hand. So much that it runs over to the bottom of the shower, washing away into the drain.
She wants to empty all of it. Waste it.
That scent. It reminds her how often she could smell it on him, when he had his way with her in Africa.
How he smelled of her. Even under the influence of the drug she was always aware of it.
But her lips couldn't produce a sound of protest back then. Not a word of jealousy.
She spreads it over her body, starting with her stomach, up to her breasts and shoulders. Her arms.
She doesn't like how it feels on her. She also doesn't like her body feels.
All those weeks of doing nothing down here, lying around because of her shoulder has brought her out of shape.
Wesker would disagree with her. She has seen the way he looks at her body. Still with hunger.
Complimenting her curves. Touching them way too long for comfort.
But she wants out of her skin. Peel it off and leave her old self behind.
She leaves the foamy liquid on herself for a minute, letting it soak in.
Next she grabs her shampoo. Thinking of how he dug his nose into those insane waves of fire red.
It is nothing like her hair. She has always wished to let it grow, but it somehow never worked out.
She brings her face and body towards the stream of water again and washes it all down.
Wishes she could wash the thought of her away with it. The thought of her and him together.
Suddenly her body aches and the shower seems like the most claustrophobic place.
Taking a deep breath she turns the water off and steps out of it.
The mirror is steamed up and she wipes her hand over it.
Exposing the face of a pale woman with too bright blue eyes. Unnaturally blue. Like artificial pills.
Quickly she opens the mirror to grab the pain pills hidden in the cabinet behind of it.
Who the hell are you, Jill Valentine?, she thinks.
She throws two of the pills into her mouth and downs them with tap water.
Chris doesn't believe his eyes.
They are standing on top of the mountain. After a climb of over six hours.
His legs were almost on the verge of giving up, his breath so intense that pain shook through his ribs and lungs. But now, finally seeing his destination before him. It's like receiving new strength.
There is a little house at the bottom of it. Absolutely ordinary. Almost camouflaged into the wall of ice.
"This is where they are?", he breathes. Puffy white clouds forming before him.
It makes him think of cigarettes. He'd love one right now. But Claire made it pretty clear that she doesn't want him to touch them anymore. Little sisters always win.
"Yes. Underground", Nebraska answers. "Impressive, isn't it?"
"Not really", he lies.
"Just wait til you see what it truly hides."
Of course. It wouldn't be Wesker if there isn't some science-fiction stuff hidden behind all of this.
After a slow descent of another two hours she opens the door to the hut and leads him inside.
It's dim and almost unbearably quiet inside. By now he's used to constantly hear the Antarctic wind in his ears. Now they're enfolded in complete silence. It almost lasts like a heavy weight on him.
"Where is the entrance to his actual hide-out?", he asks. Scared of hearing his own voice so clear again all of a sudden.
"Over here", the redhead answers and walks to the right corner to a door with a numeric panel.
He can't believe he hasn't noticed it before.
But the dim and almost dirty light floating in through unclean windows doesn't help to see things any better. The wood smells old.
She leans her backside against the door, eyeing him with expectation.
He doesn't like it. Not at all. Even after having had her company for a few hours already.
He can't get used to this strange female.
"Then open it", he requests.
"I will. But there's a little favor you could do me first."
He sighs. Is she seriously trying to play games with him? Now?
"And what is that favor?"
The corners of her lips curl themselves. "Do me."
What? Chris isn't sure, if he just heard her right. He frowns in disbelief.
"Are you kidding me? Didn't I make it clear after your first attempt?"
"Listen …", she says intensely. "There are at least two cameras positioned in this room. Don't you want you to give your little whore back, what she has done to you? Make her watch and show her what it feels like to be betrayed? I sure as hell know that this is what Wesker deserves …"
His eyes wander over her body. Calculating.
Soaking in every detail hidden below that dark blue, thin fabric.
"You must have lost your mind", he replies then.
She chuckles. "If only you would know."
Oh I do know, better than you might assume, he thinks grim.
"Listen." With force he pushes her back against the door, slamming his fists to the right and left of her head. "The only thing you are going to do now is punch in the god damn code on the god damn panel and open the god damn door, okay?"
"Ooh Redfield", she says playfully, starting a last attempt to bring her hips towards his, but he uses his knee, pinning her against the cold steel entrance to the elevator.
Unfortunately he can't intimidate her with his height. They are pretty much even.
"Didn't you hear me clear or do I have to repeat myself?", he says through gritted teeth.
She rolls her eyes. "If you let me go, I can do it."
Chris immediately obeys. He didn't enjoy being so close to her.
She is too surreal for him. Too perfect to even bear another second.
She is Death in a beautiful disguise.
It sends shivers of unease down his spine, when he thinks back to the first time she came so close.
How she touched him. That tension she created was almost unbearable.
He doesn't even want to imagine, what it feels like to be inside of her.
"Wesker was right", she says, her back turned towards him, while she types in the 8-digit code.
"Right about what?", Chris asks impatient.
With a low mechanical sound the door unlocks, granting them access inside the elevator.
"You're a freaking wuss."
Jill looks at herself in the mirror.
She is standing in Nebraska's room.
The cold light of the lamp on the ceiling shining on her skin, making it even paler. Like alabaster.
She is wearing a dress that she has taken out of Nebraska's wardrobe.
A green floor-length gown with long wing-like sleeves. The dress of a fairy.
She yanked them all out. All her clothes. Ready to tear them apart.
Ready to tear her heart apart. Because of him.
It hugs her curves tightly. The seam of the dress is touching the ground and she has to slightly lift it up to even see her feet. The fabric ruffling under her fingers.
Nebraska is quite a few inches taller and much leaner than her.
And more beautiful, she has to admit, when she examines her face.
Nebraska has always been more beautiful. Other-worldly. Like him.
She doesn't understand what Wesker sees in her.
She wishes to know how she could make him love her.
She wants to know, what it feels like to be her. Nebraska.
Imagining what kind of things he said to her, when they were alone in bed.
How he told her those three words, while their alien eyes wouldn't let go off each other.
How it felt for him to be inside of her.
But after looking at herself even longer, she decides that it's just stupid.
"Jill, what are you doing in here?"
Suddenly the piece of clothing seems to be sitting too tight, not giving her space to breathe.
"Are these Nebraska's clothes?", he asks, a certain impatience in his tone.
She blushes and crosses her arms before her chest.
"Yes", she manages to answer. That's all she could say in this very moment anyway.
"Take that off and put it back. I don't want you to touch her stuff, Valentine."
Valentine. He always called her Valentine, when he was pissed with her. Or teasing her.
But right now he was definitely not in the mood to play games.
She doesn't dare to meet his gaze. Standing still like a statue.
"What are you waiting for?", he commands. "Take it off or I swear, I will do it."
"Will you calm down, Wesker? What's your fucking problem?"
"You know what my problem is", he growls and steps towards her, ready to pull it off.
But she goes back. "Don't you lay your hands on me! Or I swear, I will make you feel sorry."
He places his hands on his hips, exhaling impatiently.
"Why do you have to stay here and watch me anyway? Can't you give me some privacy?"
"It's not like there's anything, I haven't seen yet, right?", he remarks dryly.
"You're so fucking disrespectful, do you know that!"
For a few seconds they glare at each other, but anger fades quickly.
"Please, Jill." Calmer now. "Take it off."
Jill lets her shoulders slump. Giving up. Tears in her eyes.
"You will never love me, won't you?", she says quietly. "I just wanted to know, what it feels like …"
"So this is what this is all about?"
"Yes, it is", she says hurt. "Are you finally seeing how pathetic I am?"
"You're not pathetic."
"Then what?"
"You're …" God, why does she always have to corner him in such situations?
"You know what, it's fine. Keep it for yourself. That's what you always do anyway. You never tell me anything."
"Because there is nothing I have to say to you. I have never asked you to open yourself to me. Not once. And still you did it. You have made yourself this bed, now you have to lie in it."
Deep inside she knows he's right.
It is her own fault making herself so vulnerable to him. So easy to break.
She hates herself for it. Even more than for the tears she is showing him again.
She probably disgusts him with behavior like that.
Being with Wesker is like always peeking on a protocol of 'do's' and 'don'ts'.
Careful to not say the wrong thing at the wrong time.
"Jill, I want you to take that off", he tries, closing the last inches of distance between them.
He looks down to her, a smirk on his face.
"What's so funny now?", she asks, narrowing her eyes.
Wesker smiles. "Have I ever told you how tiny you are?"
Standing close, almost body to body makes their height difference of almost a foot even more prominent.
Jill flushes, angered now.
"And?", she answers, clenching her jaw.
"Don't get mad, Valentine", he teases. "You know I like it."
"Well, not everyone can be as god damn tall as she is", she gives back.
"Stop mentioning her or I will make you sorry too", he answers, suddenly in a darker mood.
"Why? Am I like the Boogeyman? Say my name three times and I might show up?"
Nebraska under the door frame. Arms crossed under her breasts.
With pleasure she soaks in the complete surprise on Wesker's facial features, when he turns around.
Purest astonishment. His jaw dropping open would have been the icing on the cake.
But as usual he gets himself together rather quick.
"I didn't know you like dressing her in my clothes. Are we doing some role-playing games, huh? Never knew you get turned on by such things as well … but then again, what the hell do I know about you anyway?"
Wesker's jaw tightens at the sight of her. And his teeth grind together, when he sees, who is standing behind her. A few feet away.
"Redfield", he growls.
This time Chris doesn't even bother to make any remarks about the fact that Wesker is still alive.
Badly scarred, but alive.
He is the most persistent part of his life anyway. Always was, always will be.
Jill opens her mouth, anxiously gasping for air.
"Chris", she says quietly. Her cheeks grow hot and it feels like her heart drops to her stomach.
"Yes, Jill", Nebraska answers sweetly. "You saw that right. Pity that he doesn't want you anymore … little cheating whore."
"Nebraska", Chris speaks up. "Shut up and leave it to me. This is not your business."
"It is, Redfield, it is", she answers, never taking her burning gaze off Wesker. "Those two are my business just as much as they are yours."
For a moment it is quiet between them.
The air slowly charging with incredible tension.
Jill can't look at Chris. Incredible shame crawling through her bones.
So he did come for her. He really did. And she stands here, fighting to receive love from Wesker.
How ridiculous she feels. How cheap.
Chris' eyes wander over her exposed shoulders. And he sees it.
The scar from the shot that Nebraska has mentioned.
Her pale skin is still slightly bruised around it. He has to swallow.
So Nebraska was right. Every word she said was right.
The shot. Their secret relationship.
It only needed this one scar and he believed her words.
"I see it now", he quietly says.
"What, Sherlock?", Wesker growls.
"You … and her … I can't believe it. Fucking with the whole planet's population by releasing that virus of yours isn't enough, is it? You also have to fuck my woman … I don't even know what to say … Captain." The last word he brings out in a derisive and sharp tone that touches each bit of Jill's body like penetrating needles.
Chris shakes his head. "I should put a bullet through you. Right now."
To his distaste Wesker only chuckles darkly. "I'd like to see you try that. Chris. The feeling of failure is no stranger to you anymore, ain't I right?"
Chris' eyes wander to Jill again. How she is standing there. All flushed. Not even able to look at him.
Everything suddenly becomes a blur to him. Too much.
The warmth of the hideout is unbearable in comparison to the cold outside.
He tries to pull open the zipper of his jacket. The neckline suddenly feels too tight.
His head starts spinning, his feverish skin burning.
He drops to the ground passing out.
He can't hear Jill crying out his name anymore.
Jill follows with her head bent down. Still ashamed.
Wesker throws Chris on the bed. She has pleaded. Pleaded so much.
He felt like killing them both. But he lets him live. For her.
"What are you doing?", she asks, scrunching her brows.
Wesker is handcuffing his left wrist. The other end he attaches to the metallic headboard.
He doesn't reply, leaving an annoying need for answers inside her body.
"Wesker?"
He is a blur and suddenly stops before her.
Scared by his speed she stumbles backwards against the wall.
Sometimes she forgets what he is truly capable of. That he could tear her apart like a piece of paper.
His muscular arms are trapping her. His body is sending out a radiant heat. She is too aware of it.
"He is your problem now", he growls. "And if I ever see you trying to take those handcuffs off …"
She doesn't want to hear the rest of it.
He takes Nebraska into the lab, where he slams the door close and thrusts her against the wall.
An ungentle hand enfolds her throat.
She made him so angry before. So incredibly furious.
How she sat there on her bed, acting like nothing has ever happened.
Their eyes bore into each other, none of them saying a word.
Her arms remain feeble against her side, her shoulders slumping.
Awaiting his punishment.
"Come on", she finally encourages him. "What are you waiting for? Why don't you just shoot me the same way you fucked me? … Like a stray dog."
"You and your filthy mouth … It's high time we drive those demons out of your head."
"And you think killing me will help? I wish for them to haunt you in your dreams, Wesker. I really wish for it. That they will make you pay for all the pain you have caused me."
Briefly his grip tightens, but then slowly becomes gentler until it's nothing but a faint touch brushing her skin.
"No … Death is too merciful for you", he admits, his mouth a firm, frustrated line.
He is at his wit's end. Driven by indecision.
She can feel her heartbeat hammering against the vein on the side of her neck and she swallows.
"Why are we doing this? … I love you, idiot …. and you love me too."
Unwanted tears make her vision blurry and she wishes, she could have hid somewhere to escape his grim stare.
"But your actions speak quite the contrary, I dare to say … they were stupid and thoughtless."
She resists the urge to wipe away a single tear rolling down her cheek.
It leaves a cold sensation on her skin.
"You know why I did it. Because you and her … it's wrong … we both know that it's wrong."
"We both?", he asks impatiently. "Do you mean yourself and that fucking demon?"
"No, Wesker … I mean you and I." She inhales. Tired from having to explain herself all the time. "Tell me, if I'm wrong. Tell me that you love her. Tell me that she makes you feel the same way that I do."
His jaw works, becoming stiff with tension before he releases it again.
Under an audible exhale he lets go off her. Surrendering to her words.
"No, I don't love her", he finally says. Gripping the full meaning of this revelation for the first time.
Knowing that he spoke the truth.
Jill is nothing more but an anchor, a connection to his past, he just can't let go off.
A reminder of who he used to be.
But this woman here before him, as crazy as she might be, he has fought for her love.
A thing that never even crossed his mind before.
He always took what he wanted without even thinking twice. Without bothering about emotional attachment.
"Do you remember the night I ran away from you and you begged me to come back?"
A shiver wanders down his spine at the memory of it.
And how powerless he felt. How weak and needy.
"Yes, I do", he only replies, mien expressionless.
"I think, it's my turn to return those words to you …"
He scrunches his brows a tiny bit, almost unnoticeable, trying to be his usual frozen self.
But as she moves towards him, bringing her lean upper body against his strong, protective one, it's like the sun has moved a million miles closer to the Earth, melting every bit of stubbornness and anger left inside of him.
Their viruses are what unites them. What pulsates inside of them. What truly connects their hearts.
"Please forgive me, Wesker."
Her mouth against his neck. Her fingers on his chest.
She smells of fallen snow. Of winter.
"Please forgive me", she repeats and faintly sighs, when he locks an arm around her waist.
"Look at me", he says and immediately she obeys, slightly parting her lips to find an exit for her shallow breaths.
"Do you know that each night I fantasized about different ways of killing you?"
Nebraska's cheeks flush. An annoying heat burning in them and she feels like slapping him.
But he has more than one reason to speak to her like that. She threatened both of their lives.
"I can see the shame on your face. And it pleases me to see that, because that's exactly, what I want you to feel. Don't expect to get away so easily. I should destroy you, we both know it."
His grip around her waist intensifies and she softly whimpers, completely focused on his crushing words.
"I want you to know that if you ever dare to lay a finger on Jill again, you are going to wish that I would have killed you. Have we understood each other?"
She flinches, when he lifts his free hand, scared that he might get the perverted urge to slap her.
But he only takes a strand of her hair between his fingers, smoothing it back behind her ear.
An incredibly familiar gesture that fills her body with strange content, whenever he does it.
She remembers how he did the same thing after they had slept together down here for the first time.
For some reason this single stroke burned itself into her memory more than anything else from that night.
To her it was even more intimate than the sex they had.
She nods and falls forward against his chest in relief, knowing that he has forgiven her.
"I won't act so selfish anymore", she sobs into the fabric of his shirt.
"You won't, Nebraska", he says calmly. "Now get yourself together."
She looks up to him with wet amber eyes, a nagging feeling in her stomach.
"Wesker … there's something I need to tell you … before, when I was getting here with Chris Redfield something happened … inside of my mind."
"What do you mean?"
She lays her palm on his chest, absentminded. "I remembered … everything."
Fascinated he eyes her. "Everything?", he says lowly.
She nods. "The virus … I can stabilize it, if you need me to."
Chris' fever has dropped to a bearable temperature. His senses are finally clear again.
Jill sits by the bed that Wesker, 'kindly' enough, has brought him to.
The one that she was trapped in after she got shot.
But he didn't put any effort into doing anything against his illness.
Chris groans and pulls against the metallic trap enfolding his wrist.
It clangs against the metal. Making a hopeless sound.
"What the fuck is wrong with you people? Take them the off, Jill."
She crosses her arms, uneasily. "I can't, Chris … I'm sorry."
"And why? … Has he commanded you to do it? Of course he has. You can't say no to anything he wants, can you? I bet you also suck him, when he asks you for it."
Angrily she flashes a look at him. "Don't talk like that to me, you pig."
"Then why don't you just kill me off, Jill? At least it's what he wants too", he says.
Jill's light blue eyes meet his. Sternly. "But it's not what I want."
"Then take them off. I will behave", he tries again.
"You're a danger to yourself. I know that you're still stupid enough to try and kill him."
"Well … after seeing him I'm actually glad about the fact that I could destroy his face at least. It shows how ugly he truly is on the inside …"
Disgust takes over her facial features. "How dare you to talk like that? You make me sick."
"Oh, Jilly", he says mocking. "Don't talk to me about making you feel sick! I let you into my apartment. I let you into my life. I spent fucking months in the hospital with you. I slept with you in the belief that you love me too. And what do I get in return? …. This? How could I mean anything to you?"
Frustrated he shakes at the handcuffs again.
"Chris … please let me explain-"
"There is nothing to explain. There's no word you could say to me that makes up for your betrayal. Your lying. Your cheating … how long has this been going on already? Have you screwed him back in STARS already?"
She stays silent. Easy to read for him.
"Of course you did. That's why you kept refusing me … it all makes sense now. Do you even feel any shame?"
"I was twenty-two and you are not my father, Chris! I was old enough to make my own decisions!"
"By fucking a man, who was almost twice your age? He was your Captain, Jill! Did you have any sense of professionalism back then?"
"Oh come on", she hisses, hurt pride in her voice. "It's not like all of us made hasty and maybe even reckless decisions, when we were young. This includes you and the others too."
"Maybe we did … but we never stooped as low as you. I don't even want to know, what you two truly did, when he ordered you into his office under the pretense of you not doing your work properly. It … disgusts me."
"I don't care that it disgusts you. He never forced me to do anything. It was all my free will just as much as it was his …"
"You never even gave me the faintest chance to get closer you back then. Look how much we had to go through until this barrier between us finally disappeared. Just to be built again."
"I know", she says quietly. "But you have to learn to not try and control other people's life, Chris. You are doing it with your sister already. You need to learn to be less protective of her. You need to learn to be less protective of me. You don't own us."
"Don't talk about my sister", he hisses. She knows she has hit a weak spot.
"I'm sorry … I know, I shouldn't have lied to you. It was wrong. But … after what has happened in Africa a big part of me just wanted to get away from you, because I knew that all I could do is hurt you."
"You did hurt me … but then we had that night together. That night before you disappeared again. I thought, I was finally at the place I want to be. But it turns out that you did nothing else but make use of me to get rid of your guilt."
"Chris, don't say things like that ... I feel the same about that night. Believe me. I wanted it."
"Then why do I find you like this? Right here with him? Why did you put me under so much anxiety, pain and the sick hope to find you again?"
She knows it's nothing but rhetorical questions and therefore she remains silent.
"Tell me, Jill … did you even want to be found?"
With bitterness she thinks back to each night here in the Antarctic, where she thought of Chris.
Thought so much of him that it drove her back into Wesker's arms and his bed at night.
Maybe Wesker is right. She is just confused. Like back then, when she was twenty-two.
"I prayed every single night that you would come, Chris. I couldn't sleep anymore, because I asked myself, if you're out there somewhere … looking for me. Those thoughts … they have almost killed me."
"And that's why you felt the need to fuck him?"
"Yes", she answers monotone and gets up.
She can't bear another word from him. Not another accusation.
"Williams. It's me."
"Wesker. You might not believe it, but it's a relief hearing your voice."
"If you say so", he shrugs his old employees words off. "Listen carefully. I can give you code green."
It's quiet for a second on the other end of the line. Williams probably has to get himself together.
"Are you sure?"
"I will just assume that this question was meant as a joke. How fast can you get here? What's the status of your preparations anyway?"
"More than ready, I guess … what location is the meeting point?"
Wesker smirks. "It's a bit hard to explain … I'll give you the coordinates."
Slowly he dictates each number, degree and direction to the man, while letting his eyes wander along every inch of Nebraska's backside. Remaining especially long on her behind.
She is bent over the microscope, hastily scribbling into his journal.
Erasing what is wrong and adding her own correct remarks into it.
It should make him angry seeing how someone judges over his usually perfect work.
But that woman has such a sweet ass. Everything could be forgiven.
"Did you copy that, Williams?", he asks.
"Affirmative. We can make it there in a week …"
"Perfect."
Wesker hangs up and Nebraska turns around, falling on top of his lap.
"Everything goes according to plan?", she asks and undoes the zipper of his black top.
"Yes. In seven days you and I will finally begin the creation of a new world."
Nebraska smiles at him. "I want you to fuck me. Right now … my king."
He leans in to kiss her, shoving the hem of her tight pencil skirt up.
Cupping what he has been staring at the past few minutes.
She slightly cocks her head, smirking. "Don't you think, I felt your eyes boring into me?"
The first three days Chris almost doesn't accept the food she is bringing him.
Jill sighs. "Please. You have to eat."
Chris acts like a little boy, she thinks. Too stubborn to eat his soup.
"Who would care, if I starve? Wesker or you?"
She grits her teeth and shatters the bowl to the ground. "You know what. Fine. Fuck yourself, Chris! If you want to drown in your god damn emotions, go ahead. I don't care anymore."
With big eyes he looks at her. Completely left speechless.
It's a rarity seeing Jill lose control.
"Ah shit", she says in a half sob and falls to her knees to grab the shattered remains of the bowl.
"Jill", Chris says, watching her hastily shoving her hands through the hot liquid. But she doesn't listen.
"Jill", he tries again.
One of the shards scratches the tender skin of her palm open and she curses.
Finally she looks up to him. There's so much sadness on her face. It hurts him.
"What?"
"I'm …" He swallows. "I'm … I don't know. Just leave me alone."
She bites her lower lip and takes a deep breath through her nostrils, trying to regain her inner balance.
Slowly she releases the pressure she is putting on her bottom lip.
She believes to be tasting blood for a second. Cold iron on her tongue.
"Chris … I am in love with him. I thought it was human contact I needed that made me go to him at night … the thought of you. But I love him Chris. I have always loved him … even though he doesn't love me … It's like I'm lost", she whispers. "Lost in the dark."
That haunted look in her eyes. It reminds him of her days in the hospital.
This man has brought her into a hospital. Made her suffer psychotic attacks.
Made her writhe, made her vomit and cry and swallow pills.
He made her feel like the most disgusting person on the planet.
And she says that she loves him. Loves him!
He wants to burst out in laughter. But he can't. Just can't.
With cuts in her palm and shards in her hands she walks out of the room.
Jill peeks into the laboratory. She feels like running into his arms.
But she is already there with him. Lulled in their sickly sweet intimacy.
It's terrible to believe that everybody hates you. That they are all against you.
How could you forgive her so easily! How could you succumb to her sick love for you!
Nebraska is sitting on his lap. The curve of her behind perfectly fitted against his crotch
The top buttons of her shirt are open. No, of his shirt. She is wearing one of his button downs.
No shoes. Her feet keep brushing along his shins. Entangling.
Wesker's chin is resting on her shoulder and they are both looking into his journal.
She doesn't like that smug, too proud look on their similar inhuman faces.
Does he even understand how much he is hurting her with it? Of course he does.
Briefly their eyes meet. But Jill remains in her position. Frozen.
Trying to read what is going on in his head at this very moment.
Could there be a hint of an apology? Of want? Of desire?
But she can't figure it out. He doesn't give her a chance.
They are fucking each other. Again.
How long is it ago that he has brought her down here? One month? Two months?
It's so hard to keep track of time, when there are no seasons. No light of the day. No moon.
Jill turns herself on her back. Alone in her bedroom.
She is the outsider now.
She can't sleep anymore. Their voices are always in her head. Their words.
Chris is of no help. She brought him his food. Three times a day.
But never did she speak to him.
Her revelation. Her sick admittance of being in love with Wesker is still choking in both of their throats.
"Can you see how it enfolds under the microscope? Quick, take a look!"
Nebraska has put a sample of her work on a piece of glass for inspection.
"It's beautiful", Wesker says. Voice soaked with pleasure. "Fucking beautiful."
Uroboros.
With relief he leans back in his chair. Finally judging the world is within his grasp.
Judging each race. Each human. Each animal. Even nature.
"What are we going to name it?", she asks.
At first he believes to not have heard her right. "Excuse me?"
"I asked, what we are going to call it. Do you really want to use the same name twice? For me it would be nothing but a reminder of …" She swallows, fiddling with a pair of tweezers in her hand. "Of Africa."
It should have darkened his mood. But these days nothing could.
"You decide then."
She nods. "What does Uroboros even mean?"
"Eternity", he answers.
Nebraska starts filling finished samples of the virus into flasks.
With a focused eye she investigates the fluid in the Erlenmeyer flask. Swirling it.
Like the deadliest cocktail in the world.
"Boy … if you would have any idea, what I have developed right here. This thing is going to spread faster than anything ..."
"Even in water?"
She throws a side glance to him. Sharp amber eyes.
"Even in water."
After they have loved each other her fingers follow the lines of his muscles.
"I am going to call it Uzuri." She suddenly says, softly smiling.
"What does it mean?"
"Beauty."
There are still fragments of Swahili in her memory.
"It should mean pain", he says, palpating the bumps of the scar on the side of her upper body.
Caused by Uroboros. There for eternity.
"No … beauty."
She smiles.
Wesker and Jill stumble into each other in the middle of the dark hallway.
"What are you doing out here still up?", he growls. Keeping it down.
The sound of his voice. It almost brings her to the ground.
It's the first time in days that he even speaks to her.
"I was checking on Chris", she mumbles. "He's fast asleep."
She can smell her perfume on him. The one that she felt like crushing on the bathroom floor.
It shudders inside her lungs like the plague.
"What about you?" She lifts a hand. "Wait … I know. Working. Mixed with no requirement for sleep."
"Why didn't you stay with him?", he asks.
Jill eyes him. Is he seriously asking this?
"I don't know … I couldn't be in there anymore. You know I don't like rooms that remind me of a hospital."
She more feels than sees how he's staring at her. Knowing that she lied.
Jill swallows. Giving in. "What do you think? He won't even let me touch him, Wesker."
Jill hasn't brushed her hair in what seems days. It is put up into an untidy ponytail.
She looks abandoned. And lost.
He doesn't think long, finds her lips in the dark, briefly capturing her in a deep kiss.
"What are you doing?", she whispers breathless.
The taste of him on her. Oh god.
"Do you think I can bear the thought of you being in there … with him? Looking after him?"
Anger captivates her senses. "What the hell, Wesker … what about you and her? Do you think I enjoy that? So don't go all possessive. Not now."
He pulls the rubber band out of her hair, brushing his hand through it before spreading it over her shoulders.
She likes how he strokes through it. Caring. Loving. She wants to cry.
But it's nothing but an illusion he is transferring into her mind. False security.
"Valentine", he says. So soft. "Sweet Valentine …"
Nothing can save her anymore. He thrusts her against him. Hands raking along her curves.
Their lips meet with almost starving intensity. She was starving. For his kisses. His touch.
He believes to be tasting 'him' on her. Just as much as she believes to be tasting 'her' on him.
But both don't stop. Only become more demanding with each other.
Quickly he shoves her shirt over her head and carelessly throws it aside, while she starts the same treatment with his clothing.
The laboratory door shuts behind him and he places her on the table.
She gasps surprised. How did they land here so fast?
A low, lustful sound escapes his throat, when he finds her soaking wet for him.
"Shhh", she quiets him, but smiles with forbidden amusement.
His mouth wanders along her skin, marking every single inch as his own.
The thought of her and Chris together boiling up an almost unhealthy need inside of him.
Right now he feels like he is back in Africa. Ready to tear her into pieces with want.
Her gentle, yet turned on breathing, that faint touch of her fingertips doesn't ease the animalistic side that is urging to come out.
He slips inside her warmth. All of him at once. Relishing how wet she is, how ready to be taken deep.
They both can't help but to faintly groan at the sensation.
She always loved the feeling of his first thrust. It carried a certain power and possession.
"Tell me, if I'm hurting you, Jill."
"You're not hurting me." Her answer is a forced half-moan.
"Good", he breathes with strange bliss. "Good. Because I want to take you deep right now. So deep. I want you to feel me, even after I'm not inside of you anymore."
She closes her eyes. "I always feel you."
Her arms tighten around his neck, not letting go.
Not even after they have found their release, where she presses her lips against his shoulder to not cry out.
"Why, Wesker?", she whispers against his neck. "Why?"
She believes to be hearing his heart. Beating for her.
An incredible sadness fills her. Why does this moment feel so finite?
He never answers her questions. Never.
"I want to take you again tonight", he says into her ear. Kissing her neck lustfully.
Gently she smooths the hair on his side, although there is nothing out of place.
Simply to touch him.
She was wrong, when he took her virginity. She was wrong, when they started an affair.
She was wrong, when he saved her life. Twice.
The way Jill touched him. What lies in her kisses and the soft brushing of her hands.
The way she had him in bed. And especially the way she talked to him. It is all new territory.
Territory he shouldn't step on, because the danger of losing his true home, his true self, out of sight is big. One more step and he'd be lost with no chance of return.
She doesn't like the look on his face. It is too mournful.
"What is it, Wesker?", she asks gently, leaning her forehead against his.
Finite. The moment is finite. She sees it now.
"Don't say you're leaving me. Please don't. I don't want you to leave. I want us to be like this. Forever."
Forever. Eternity. Uroboros.
It's not him anymore. Eternity lies in the past. Beauty ahead. A new beautiful world.
"Don't destroy me", she whispers.
"I would never let anything happen to you, you know that Jill?", he finally says. "Never."
"Yes", she whispers, pressing her thighs against his torso, not letting him go. "I know."
He takes her three more times. On the table again. Against the door. On the floor.
Never giving her the chance for questions.
Something doesn't feel right. Everything is so quiet.
Of course there is hardly any noise down here anyway.
Wesker is like a cat. Tiptoeing most of the time.
She adjusted herself to him. Knowing that he prefers peace and quiet.
Even in bed he is never loud. Controlling his pleasure in a stunning way that she can never accomplish. No man she ever had probably could.
Last night feels like a dream now. They have never had each other so many times in a row.
And still something doesn't feel right. It's deep in her gut.
'You're just hungry, Valentine', she imagines him saying. That's what he probably really would say, if she mentioned that strange feeling in her stomach.
An inexplicable urge makes her get up and hastily dress herself.
Jill runs into the lab. Breath stuck.
She finds it empty. Clean. Like it has never been used before.
All his work is gone. Together with him. With her.
She clings to the door frame for a moment before slowly stepping into it.
Running her hands over the surface of the table, where he had his way with her last night.
It's all sterile.
She opens drawer after drawer to find it empty.
The last one gives a metallic clang as something hits against it.
Jill's blood rushes in her ears like a wild river, shutting out the world around her.
It's a syringe. P30. Her dose. There's a folded note attached to it. And a key.
Wesker's perfect handwriting.
'We both know what we don't want and yet we can't live without it.
Please stay down here for as long as you can.
I want you to be safe.
Be good to him. And be good to yourself.
You have taught me so many things, although I believed to know everything.
I hope you can forgive me one day.
My sweet Valentine.'
"No", she whispers, releasing her trapped breath just to deeply suck it in again.
"No", she whimpers.
"No", she screams.
Ice water is running through her heart. Killing every single emotion inside of it.
The ability to pump blood into her vital organs. It feels like dying.
She goes down into a crouching position, hugging her knees, trying to hold herself together.
Trying to not fall apart into a thousand pieces.
Wesker's note, his last words, is crumbling between her palms.
The key still lies untouched in the drawer. The key to Chris' handcuffs.
And she cries her heart out. Cries and sobs as loud as she can.
She comes to him. Eyes red. Face puffy. He heard her cry.
Wordlessly she removes the handcuffs.
Her fingertips brush his wrist, when she turns the key. He hates her touch.
It's like the skin of a stranger burning marks on his own.
Chris remains in a lying position. Shoulders and bones aching.
"He is gone, isn't he?"
But she doesn't need to answer.
All that he needs to see is that destroyed face of hers.
"How is he going to spread it?"
She is sitting in the kitchen. Shoulders hunched.
The first steps he took before felt like his legs were made of jelly.
"I don't know." Her voice is hoarse. Her throat feels like it hasn't brought out a sound in years.
She doesn't even bother to clear it. She doesn't bother about anything.
Thoughtfully Chris opens the fridge, downing a few gulps of OJ.
Carefully he puts the plastic bottle back into it, closing the steel door.
And then he thrusts his fist into it. Hard. Angry. Frustrated.
"Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!"
He shatters a dirty plate from the kitchen counter to the ground. The crashing noise is satisfying.
"Fuck!"
His breath is ragged after he's done. Jill's quiet and anxious. Her body stiff.
They have both tried to get out of here before.
But the elevator couldn't be activated. It was shut down. Their only way out.
Jill ran into the control room. She knew her way around here. All the corridors. Each room.
They all carry him inside of them. The memory of him lingering like invisible ghosts in the air.
She checked the computer that he had left on. Expecting him to suddenly peek over her shoulder.
'What are you doing, Valentine? Don't touch my stuff. Don't touch things you don't understand.'
'I never understood you and still I touched you.'
'Look where it has brought you to. Nothing but burning marks on your hands. Ashes in your heart.'
Jill had to focus to gather herself together. She couldn't lose her sanity. Not here. Not this place.
After clicking through several documents and programs she finally found what she was searching for.
Four weeks. It would take a month until energy to the elevator would reactivate itself.
He really does want her to stay down here. To be safe.
If he cares so much about her safety, then who would save her from her heart?
She sighed and tried to figure out the password to enter the system.
Password invalid. Invalid. Invalid. In red letters flashing before her eyes.
She felt like smashing the screen with her bare fists.
They are trapped.
"I need to warn Claire." He has dug his hands in his hair.
Jill nods. Sometimes he feels like grabbing her and shaking her violently.
To wake her up and bring her back to reality. Away from the other's grasp.
"We need to stop him, Jill. You know that we do."
"We can't, Chris. I have told you already. The elevator is shut down."
She doesn't care that he doesn't seem to believe her. Nor trust her.
He always has that wary look on his face anyway, when she is around.
Wesker's little spy. Wesker's little whore.
"So we are trapped. Great", he growls.
"And even if we weren't. Be realistic. We would both die going after him. And if it's not Wesker, who does the job then it will be this ice hell …. Or Uroboros."
"Why have you never tried to stop him before, Jill? Do you want him to destroy this planet? Is it part of your vision too?"
She resists the urge to roll her eyes. Chris and his stupid assumptions drove her insane sometimes.
"No, I don't."
I want him. It's all I want.
They don't speak anymore the rest of the day.
They spend the nights in separate rooms. Jill in hers, Chris in Nebraska's old dorm.
She hasn't stepped into Wesker's bedroom. She can't.
The sheets probably still carry his scent. Maybe there are even things he has left behind.
The way Chris treats her doesn't really help to feel any better down here.
In the morning he always lets her use the shower first.
Trying to not cross her way, when she steps into the hallway. Wrapped in a towel. Hair wet.
He thinks of her all the time. Every second.
He would masturbate in the shower to the memory of their only night together.
"It was her that brought it this far."
They are sitting in the almost empty laboratory. Chris is playing around with the microscope.
"Do you mean this crazy bitch?", he asks, squinting his eye to peek through the lens.
He is putting his finger under it. Jill shakes her head. He is like a child.
"Yes … it was her, who has stabilized the virus. Wesker wasn't capable of doing it."
Now he looks up. "Are you kidding me? The great and perfect Albert Wesker couldn't even do his own work properly?"
She shrugs and wishes to sneer, when he laughs away.
"You have brought her back here, Chris! And now the great and perfect Albert Wesker is out there … spreading it. While we are trapped like animals. Think about this before you judge."
His laughter stops. "What the fuck, Jill! Are you seriously making me responsible for this shit happening?"
Annoyed she puts her glass of water down and walks out on him.
The nights are here to mend.
Her heart. Her soul. The splinters seem to slowly find back together.
On their second week she joins him in his bed.
Still he would touch himself in the bathroom the following mornings.
They're both awake. Almost at the same time driving up from dreaming.
She dreamt of him. Of Africa. With force she tries to control her labored breathing.
Chris swallows. Still not sure how to feel about her presence and about the fact that they are alone now.
She presses her forehead deep into the cushion, shutting her eyes tightly.
Both don't know what time it is. It's always dark down here.
Artificial light the only source of sunshine. Being safe underground has its disadvantages.
Even if it means safety from the apocalypse happening fifty meters above their heads.
For a while they lie still, aware of each other's breaths, of each other's existence.
Jill doesn't put up a fight, when she feels his weight shifting towards her.
He presses her backside against him. Against his erection.
His breath is warm and ragged, so turned on, against the side of her neck, when he shoves her shorts and underwear down. Almost clumsy. Almost too hungry.
She doesn't ask him, what he's doing. She doesn't need to ask.
She goes on her knees, grabbing the headboard, while his solid hardness fills her from behind.
"Ah", she only says faintly, pulling up her shoulders from the brief pain this causes.
His thrusts are full of revenge and anger. They are not what he usually is.
But then who is these days?
She gives him, what he needs in this very moment. Following his rules.
It feels more wrong than right. More painful than pleasurable. More humiliating than respectful.
But still she lets him. Because it's the only thing to save them. Save him.
He doesn't kiss the skin between her shoulder blades nor the nape of her neck.
He doesn't touch her breasts, not her hips, not her stomach.
He only slams into her, harder and faster, until she can feel sweat running down.
Trapped in her own kind of fever.
She gasps and moans softly, trying to keep it down. Even though there is no one to hear them.
She lets go to place her hands on the mattress.
Digging her fingertips deep into it, while she follows his rhythm with effort.
He exhausts her so much, she believes to be breaking down.
A few minutes later he comes. His seed filling her womb, warm and sticky.
The only moment she can hear a sound coming out of him.
He doesn't care about her this time and pulls out, falling on his back.
Jill follows his example. Heavy breathing.
The muscles in her arms are numb. She is almost sore between her legs.
They don't touch each other anymore. Awake.
Still aware of each other's breaths. Of each other's existence. Always.
'I missed you', she wants to say.
But she can't. Because it's not true. Not anymore.
Forever. Eternity. Uroboros.
It's dead. And left are nothing but outsiders.