October 11th, 1997, Captain Albert Wesker's Home
The sky outside of Wesker's bedroom window was a deep crimson color when Jill Valentine's eyes cracked open with a squint while she lay facing the window.
A sailor's warning, she thought groggily to herself, remembering the lore of the red morning for those on the open seas. A morning sky that was a deep red could indicate that there was high water content in the atmosphere.
With sluggish thoughts piecing together where she had stowed her umbrella, Jill blinked and turned her gaze toward the clock that read 6:12 a.m.
Captain Wesker had scheduled a team meeting for the S.T.A.R.S. office at 0700 sharp.
Her inhalation was sudden when she sat up.
The captain must have left her to depart early. No doubt she'd be given shit if she—
One foot was already on the cold floorboards when she spotted the lump in the blankets still in bed beside her.
Wesker hadn't departed early.
Nor had he even risen at all.
He remained in the bed, facing the window as well. A single arm was crooked upwards with his forearm draped up and over his face. Above that arm, and braced against the pillow, was Whisker sleeping just as soundly.
"Captain," she found herself whispering gently before she sat back on the bed. "Captain, you're going to be late."
Expecting him to promptly wake given how very precise the man before her could historically be, Jill was pleasantly surprised when his arm shifted slightly, and that deep morning voice reached her ears.
"Quite so, Valentine." When his arm shifted fully, Jill got a glimpse of his reddened eyes.
Above him on the pillow and still cradled against her superior's arm, Albacore Whisker woke too and sent her a glare.
"Are you well, sir?" Jill watched in amusement when his mouth frowned from beneath his arm.
"As fond as I've become of you…" Wesker's words were measured, a constant metronome for that hopeful beat in her chest. "I do find you to be unobservant at times."
With a snort and a smile, Jill rose from the bed for the second time and set off to prepare for the day. Meeting or not, she still had class to attend, and she wasn't certain on how much more of Marvin's good graces she could count on.
At 6:40, she walked back into the bedroom freshly showered to see Wesker had not moved. Unsure of what the protocol would be for communicating his absence, she opened her mouth to wake him once more, but he interrupted her before she could.
"Valentine, did you need me for something?" he asked, voice cool as he watched her from his position in the bed.
He was still shirtless, and Jill would probably burn in some sort of hell for admiring a sick man with the way she was assessing how those sweats sat on his hips.
"Captain, you scheduled a 0700 meeting for this morning." She picked up her hat on his dresser and slowly walked around to his side of the bed.
Both Wesker and Whisker's eyes followed her.
"I did," he drawled, unphased with her slow approach.
"And yet, you're going to miss your own meeting; playing hooky, today, hm?" Jill glanced away to grab the holster with her firearm and when she looked back at him his eyes were dragging up her form.
"Do I look like a man that plays hooky?" Wesker asked, rolling fully onto his back and further into the pillows before his eyes were dead center on hers. Whisker rolled down in between the sheets and snuggled deeply into his side.
"No, but you definitely look like one who sleeps with kittens and probably deserves a few more days off."
"Still believe you know about what I deserve, Valentine?"
"Men your age get tired more easily, don't they?" Jill had been through many hard days in her life, but at this moment, she'd have said nothing was harder than keeping the smile from her face while she placed her lure.
The slight smirk fell from Wesker's face before he sat up slowly, laid his shapely hands down on the bed, and began to climb forward.
"Men…my age?" The powerful muscles in his back flexed as he began to rise to his feet.
Jill was bolting out of the bedroom just as his feet hit the floor.
Her laughter was abrupt when she snagged her keys from the counter and bounded out the door.
Had she turned to look, she'd have noted the rare sight of her captain's wonderous stare before he closed the bedroom door once more.
The crisp morning light of the day filtered through the downtown buildings as Jill Valentine turned her vehicle onto Ennerdale Street and aimed toward the lowered ramp for the entrance to the R.P.D. parking lot. Dark clouds could be seen coming from over Porcupine Mountain.
Although the drive wasn't long from her captain's house to the station, she found her thoughts running freely as she drove. A warm Styrofoam cup of coffee rose to her lips before she settled it back between her legs.
Don Weller was the same gas station attendant she had met the day she had stopped for coffee and a muffin for herself. She supposed it was easier for smaller town residents to remember names of newer residents, but still she was slightly startled when he called her by name this morning. Don's smile had been kind as he'd placed an apple on top of the tray of coffees she had purchased for the Alpha Team as a free token to start her morning off well.
Glancing at the apple on her passenger seat, Jill quickly leaned over and scooped it up while she turned her eyes back to the road.
With the apple gripped in her hand, she brought it to her mouth to bite but paused as the intrusive thoughts began to crowd her. Despite being a little late, in a new situation, and smack dab in the middle of a confuddling and horrible murder investigation, there was a serene feeling that surrounded her now.
It had been just over two weeks since she had arrived and already things were starting to feel like…
A home, she thought with her lips pressed against the apple.
The military life had set her apart from others easily. As one of the only women in her detachment, that area of ostracization wasn't something she had expected but had grown accustomed to due to the high intensity work it provided. Aside from nights spent staring up at a tent flap, there had been very little time to consider the different areas where her life was lacking.
And maybe that's what had drawn her in the first place.
Even now, as she considered her intent to make a difference and move to Raccoon, working in the police force for an elite section had promised a level of service that she thought she gravitated to just to keep the holes in her own life filled.
The largest detail was the one she hadn't been trying to think too keenly on. The relationships she had begun to cultivate and the one that grew to be the most intense and the most meaningful to her in a very short amount of time.
Adversarial in nature, off-putting in his regard, Captain Albert Wesker wasn't one she thought she would be latching herself onto, however, even now, she couldn't help but smile into the apple skin as she thought of finding him still in bed later.
A distant part of her analytical thinking was still hanging on as Jill considered knowledge she had learned from somewhere in her history.
Romantic attachments came with releasing chemicals that were associated with the reward circuit flood in the brain. A euphoria that was similar to the use of cocaine or alcohol, dopamine was released with the feelings and created the same type of high.
The passing acknowledgements had her one hand tightening on the steering wheel when Jill truly began to examine what she was allowing herself to feel in her superior's presence.
And what he seemed to gain in return.
Movement on the sidewalk to the back entrance to the precinct snapped Jill back into focus.
She hadn't noticed the vans, but as she slowed her forerunner to a crawl, Jill blinked before she put the apple down in her cup holster and took in the groups of reporters that all stood near the entry.
Lieutenant Marvin Branagh waved her forward when their eyes met through the windshield.
Careful not to hit the overflowing crowd, Jill pulled up and quickly rolled down the window.
"Is everything alright, lieutenant?" she called out as Marvin approached.
Had there been another body found?
Marvin's normal disposition had always held a level of severity, but much like the day she had told him Whisker's name, there was always a cunning look that had stared back out at her.
Today, he just looked irritated.
"Hit national news this morning, Valentine," Marvin said as he continued to wave her through before the masses decided it was an open invitation. "Classes are cancelled today. We're having a precinct wide assembly on the current case. All day-patrols are to report at 0730."
The heavy parking gate rumbled closed behind her as she heard Marvin call out to the reporters while she pulled her vehicle in the lowered garage.
A few people were still standing near their cars when she pulled into the first open space.
"Morning, Jill," greeted her ears when she opened her driver's side door.
The morning visage of Chris Redfield waited for her as she stepped out.
"Hey, Chris," she toned quickly as she held the coffee tray up and quickly slung her pack across the other shoulder. "What did I miss this morning? They cancelled my classes."
"Yeah," he said with a nod when she fell into step with him. "I imagine they would. A few teams from the bureau finally showed up. Someone also let portions of the case slip out to the press." He paused. "That coffee for us?"
Chris was tossing a quick wave over to David Ford when his eyes finally met her silent stare.
"Someone leaked the info?" she questioned with furrowed brows and tilted the tray toward him for him to take one.
"Sure did." Chris easily plucked a cup from the tray before he opened the door for her. "About all the victims unfortunately. The big one is surrounding the governor's daughter. He's also understandably upset. Doesn't bode well for the precinct."
"Is that what the meeting is about today?" Faces passed them in the hall. Activity was higher this morning than she had seen yesterday.
Many faces she didn't recognize.
"Somewhat," Chris answered as they walked. "Patrols are going to be doubled, but it's more to bring the precinct up to speed, detail the profiling process, and show it as an act of force. We need to catch this person, Jill."
Chris was probably one of the only official officers that used her first name as well as nicknames. The effect would have felt warmer under better circumstances, but she was coming to enjoy the point man's presence beside her more and more. Although he seemed more reserved this morning, she found herself becoming comfortable with his level of intensity.
They could joke and go toe-to-toe on different exercises, but it was clear that Chris cared about his job just like everyone else did.
"We will," she answered without thinking and with determination in her tone.
"Hey…" At the change of Chris' tone, Jill glanced over at him. "You still staying with the captain?"
"I am," she confirmed before they both entered the S.T.A.R.S. office to put their things on their assigned desks.
Barry and Joseph both looked up from near Barry's desk with a slight nod of their heads as they continued to speak in low tones for the morning.
A quick glance found their last member, Brad, missing at his communications desk. Brad appeared to have the most relaxed schedule out of all of them.
Expecting Chris to continue his line of questioning to what she was sure is an odd occurrence for the office, she refocused on him to find his attention on Barry as he walked over to join the conversation.
Jill's computer had almost finished booting up when the door opened once more. The dark shades of her captain sunglasses reflected the overhead light, and she almost chuckled to see that ever-present stern look on his face.
Even if she'd only known him for two weeks, Jill could assume Wesker despised tardiness. If anything, he more than likely saw the same reporters outside, and if had, he knew that there had also been a leak in the case.
With her pointer finger tapping the desk as she waited for the log-in screen, Jill made a mental note to ask Wesker and Edward for all the parties who would have the case details.
Between their two departments, there couldn't be that many people who had access to all the facts.
How much information had been released to the press?
"Heard you guys made a breakthrough," Chris called when Captain Wesker emerged from his office and shut the door behind himself.
Her superior's frown was the first instance of morning grumpiness she had spotted from the man.
"Don't sound so surprised," she tossed out with an upwards nod of her head, saving the captain from needing to respond. "I may get us into trouble a bit, but we still got it done."
Barry and Joseph glanced up at her from their position near the desk before Barry gave her a quirk of a smile as if validating that very trouble.
Captain Wesker was leaning on the front desk against the wall near the whiteboard. He hadn't reacted to the commentary as he continued to read what was now in his hand.
"That true, captain? You putting up with a little trouble these days? Couldn't imagine why," Chris called over towards him while Jill finally stood to her feet once more and made her way toward the rest of the men.
"Been a nice change of pace, Redfield," Wesker called without looking up.
Jill ignored the stare she knew Chris was giving her when she set the cup of black coffee down beside Wesker's hand. Her blonde captain perked up slightly to give her an odd look.
"You look tired," she explained simply before she turned back to Chris and leaned on the captain's command desk. The rest of the coffee order was set on Barry's desk.
"Sweet!" Joseph uttered before he began to tear at the sugar packets. He looked the most tired out of all of them.
"Are you doing the night shifts, Joseph?" Jill found herself asking.
"Yep, I oversee the B-shift while everyone else sleeps."
Jill stopped a laugh from escaping her throat when he dumped something like eight packets of sugar into the dark brew before he continued on, "So, while we're caught on the horns of dilemma, why is it that Detective Edward thinks we're going to that ball?" Joseph glanced back up at all of them.
Chris whistled softly before he lifted a hand to the back of his neck.
"A ball?" she asked with disbelief in her tone.
"The Police Officer's Ball is an event hosted by the Raccoon City Mayor's Office," Barry explained first. "It's done with the intent to recognize and appreciate our law enforcement officers within the city. All proceeds go to the city's orphanage."
"When is that again?" Chris asked.
"Day before Halloween, I think?" Joseph answered before he slurped loudly.
"So…who told the detective we were all going?" Barry asked now in the disappointed tone of a tired father.
"Look, my date canceled on me, and I'm not taking my sister again—" Chris began in a rush.
"I'll take your sister—" Joseph began.
"Don't fucking finish that sentence." Chris' head whipped toward the man.
"Boy, you just wake up in the mornin' and keep right on dreamin' don't you?" Barry asked before he cuffed Joseph on the back of the head.
"You volunteered all of us so you could find a date?" Joseph sneered with his eyebrows waggling. "You could have just asked me, Redfield; I'll wear the dress." He winked saucily.
"I was actually going to ask Valentine," Chris declared with a bashful half-grin.
With her stare turning long on the point man's face, Jill felt she suddenly understood why he had asked her about the captain this morning.
He wouldn't goad him…would he? Did he know?
"Well," Jill said, clearing her throat while trying not to laugh nervously. "I can't go with you."
"Oh, yeah? Why is that? You dance like you shoot, Val?" Chris tilted his head with the question.
The door opened to the office again and Brad shuffled in, carrying what looked to be a computer monitor.
"Because I am no one's back-up date, Redfield," Jill said with a mimicking tilt of her head.
I see you, Redfield, her look said.
I see you too, Valentine, Chris' smile was full of teeth.
"Oof," Brad murmured from the background. "Strike out. All bases were full too."
Chris darted a glance over at the pilot and the man visibly slinked the rest of the way to his desk.
"Yet another thing to worry about," Barry said with a lazy air while he worked on the equipment in his hands. "Chief expects us all to be there now, well, except for Vickers. He's on call that night."
"Probably for the best." Joseph grinned. "Man dances like he flies the 'copter."
"That was one time, Joseph!" Brad called with his headset that was slowly sliding off of his head.
"Mhm," Joseph hummed around his coffee. "Are you going, Captain Wesker?"
"Indeed," the team's superior answered in a flat tone. "Secured my date weeks ago."
"How is it the captain's got a date before you, Chris?" Barry looked up from the gun part in his hand.
With her hands freezing around the beret Jill had been lifting back to her head, she glanced over at Wesker. His head was tilted down toward the report in his hands still.
He'd already gotten a date. Jill opened her mouth before she thought better and closed it.
"That's alright, I think I'll ask Ryman anyway." She turned for the door and scooped up her bag off the desk. "I'll save everyone's seats downstairs."
She didn't miss Wesker's lifting head when she passed the desk.
"The rookie in the academy you tried to shove off on me?" Chris asked, following close behind.
When Jill turned her head toward him, he still beheld an odd twinkle in his eye.
"Don't be proud; come to the ball with me." His expression deepened into a genuine smile. "I'll even let you win at hand-to-hand again."
"Let me win?" she asked with her brows raised. "Is this coming from the guy that can't even flex his arm enough to scratch his own back?"
"Okay, one," Chris began, poking out his thumb. "You promised not to make fun of me for that. Two…" A pointer finger went up. "We had just completed the rope climbs and I was tired. Three…" A middle finger joined the others before he folded the other fingers and it was the only one left standing.
"Yeah, yeah," Jill broke in, grin stretching her features at the vulgar hand gesture before she turned back to their path downstairs. "We have PT's coming up and rest assured, I'm also going to be watching for the telltale itch."
Their chatter continued before they both entered into the room where the rest of the officers were assembled. Not agreeing to anything pertaining to the ball, Jill put the details out of mind when she beheld the sheer number of officers in the room. Majority of the men and women who patrolled the street sat in different formations throughout each row.
The S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team Captain, Enrico, and the rest of his squad sat near the left, front side of the audience.
Richard twisted in his seat upon her and Chris' entry, and he jutted his chin to the empty row of chairs that had apparently been left open for the Alpha Team.
Picking the chair that was last in the row, Jill smoothed down the back of her pants as she sat and learned forward to greet the Bravo Team. At the action, Forest caught her eye, and he gave her an upwards nod.
"Classes going well?" Captain Marini asked, noticing her attention when Chris sat down to her immediate left in the open chairs.
"Well enough, I think," she spoke, raising her voice to be heard over the other chatter in the room. "Accelerated program chaffs a bit when we have so much going on."
"Have it on good authority that you're doing well enough, all things considered." Captain Marini's eyes glanced over at Marvin who stood near the front of the assembly.
"I don't think Captain Wesker would let her fail at this rate," Chris chimed in before Barry, and Joseph crossed the space and took the two remaining chairs beside Chris.
"None of us would," Barry chimed in, having caught the conversation on the approach. "Afraid you're stuck with all of us now. Captain has been noticeably nicer now that the team is full."
"Full, right," Joseph added with a grin. "That's totally what it is."
"You insinuating something, Frost?" Captain Marini asked in a gruff voice.
"Not at all," Joseph said, appearing to love the full attention of the two S.T.A.R.S. teams on him. "I just think having a team mom is good for morale."
"Team mom?" Jill asked with a note of disdain in her voice.
"Yeah," Joseph tossed back with a waggle of his brows. "Captain Marini is team dad for Bravo, while Dewey over there is team mom. Wesker is obviously in the same position, but no one can usually stay in the same office as him except you, so that makes you mommy, Valentine."
A squawk of indignation echoed out from Edward on their far left before Enrico threw his head back and laughed.
"Please don't use the word 'mommy' in a serious sentence, Joseph," Richard groaned out before the mic in the room was tapped, gaining everyone's attention.
"This isn't over," Jill whispered to Joseph, slightly leaning into Chris' space.
"Gonna tattle on me to daddy?" Joseph whispered back.
Jill cut her growl off before Chief Irons made his way up beside Lieutenant Branagh and began to speak.
"Good morning," Chief Irons began, the note of severity in his voice seemed like a display to Jill but she pushed the thoughts aside, determined to not take on the same biases as her captain. "As many of you know, we've been working on the homicide cases that have been plaguing our town for the last month. Upon the identification of a government official's family member, I've asked the FBI for assistance due to the gruesome nature of the crimes. None of the known sex offenders in the area fit the profile developed by the FBI. So, as of right now, no immediate arrest has been made."
A quiet murmur echoed around the space of all the seated officers. The development of the governor's daughter wasn't known by all it seemed.
"This," Irons gestured behind him, and Jill spotted Captain Wesker standing beside Detective Edward and another man whom she didn't recognize. "Is Special Agent Jack Hamilton from the Federal Bureau of Investigation's Behavioral Science Unit. For the last day he has been working with the homicide division to begin profiling our killer among the nation's databases."
The now identified African American man was older, maybe in his fifties. Easily the tallest one out of everyone present at the front, grey was peppered through the color of his closely cropped hair and led way into severe and tired, hawkish features. Even from her position in the front, Jill noted Special Agent Hamilton's eyes were dark as he peered out at the assembled officers.
Chief Irons continued out to the silent room of the new patrolling teams that would be assisting the FBI in targeting areas that were most vulnerable for usage considering Raccoon's killer liked to stage the bodies in low populated areas, or in the quiet of closed down residences.
"As a federal law enforcement agency, the FBI has a wide range of investigative tools and resources at its disposal, which helps them to be more effective in solving complex crimes. With Special Agent Hamilton's task force at our disposal in this case, it means that the resources and expertise of the federal government are being brought in to help find and prosecute this filthy criminal. Please prepare for briefings prior to your newly assigned shifts. PTO will be denied depending on the severity of need. We need to make sure we're doing everything we can to serve the needs of this city."
"More like to cover his ass," Joseph whispered to Chris.
Jill watched as Captain Wesker's head tilted toward them, and even from behind his shades, she thought he was noting the minor discussion of his team.
After a few more remarks from the chief, he held out a hand for Special Agent Hamilton.
The older man stepped forward, no smile upon his face or even an acknowledgement to the chief.
"Murderers do not come out in the dark with long teeth and saliva dripping off their chin … we want to be able to say we can identify these dangerous people … you can't identify them. People don't realize that there are potential killers among them." Special Agent Hamilton paused before he continued. "That was told to us by the famous serial killer, Ted Bundy. Not one to immortalize such men, I can't help but repeat that to you now as we consider this city and the nature in duration this has gone on for."
From her position in the row, Jill could make out when Detective Edward nodded his head beside her captain.
"From the Behavioral Science Unit, I will tell you I have worked on some of the most heinous murders this nation has ever seen. My unit looks at serial killers from a psychological viewpoint, as well as looking into what causes a person to become one. The FBI's definition of a serial killer is someone who kills at least three people over a period of time. Usually, there are 'cooling off' periods between each murder, providing the murderer time for premeditation."
Special Agent Hamilton's graveled tone was as strict as his own profile while he studied the faces before him. Where Jill had thought Detective Edward suffered from the nature of the details in his unit, she didn't need to have personally met the man before them now to know what might be living in his own head.
"In a short amount of time reviewing these dockets, here's what we need to be aware of," Special Agent Hamilton's gaze landed on hers for a moment before he paused. "We're dealing with a white male from the age of 30 to 40. Appearing intelligent, he has a gravitation toward Greek mythology, and can be considered a loner in his field."
The older man paused to let that information sink in before he continued, "As serial sexual murders are twice as likely to involve strangers than someone the victim knows, we've also determined that this may be a very well-known member of the community; someone who is trusted. None of our victims have been sexually assaulted, and as noted in the homicide files by the rookie member of the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team, none of our victims have put up a fight."
With her thoughts whirling at the mention, the special agent went on to discuss how serial killers usually select victims based on three things: Availability if there is access for an attack. Vulnerability extent to which the victim is at risk or susceptible to attack, e.g. walking alone vs with a group, and desirability. The last, being the most probable, was a highly subjective factor; the appeal of the victim to the offender.
"So far, all found victims have not been residents of this city, but our killer has chosen Raccoon as his dumping ground. Further identification of the victims is critical to our understanding, and I have taken action to put the nation's departments on a full-scale update to help us do just that."
Special Agent Hamilton turned toward Detective Edward and Captain Wesker before he picked up a packet that had been left on the side table.
"Thanks to the efforts of the Raccoon City Homicide Division and the S.T.A.R.S Teams, we have generated some identifying markers for our patrols and my task force to be aware of," the older agent continued.
"Our killer likes to abandon his bodies in low traffic areas, but he seemed to slip up when his sights locked on one of our own," Special Agent Hamilton's eyes found hers again.
"After the altercation with one of our officers, two of his fingers were broken." Jill surveyed a slight smile at the corner of Special Agent Hamilton's mouth. "Upon fleeing the scene, the homicide division collected a footprint that was left out in the dirt from the last victim's location." He held up a sheet from the packet in his hand.
Although visible to the front row, the image had been blown up on a larger sheet for the rest of the officers to view.
The imprints of a pair of large work boots were depicted in the dirt. The aberrant track of standard work boots was shown in two images. The left boot appeared more normal while the other was a more worn through the front of the right sole.
With a quick explanation of gait, Special Agent Hamilton noted the difference between neutral, overpronation, and underpronation walking patterns.
"This depicts a normal shoe wear pattern for a person with a neutral gait, who neither overpronates nor supinates. Someone healthy but engages also in repetitive patterns for either work or enjoyment. We commonly see these patterns for someone who works in construction, delivery drivers, and police officers. Or in hobbies like skateboarding."
Another murmur rolled through the room.
"This profiling is starting to show that any one of us could be the killer," Chris muttered to no one in particular.
"Correct," Special Agent Hamilton agreed, his focus now on Chris for the moment.
As Detective Edward folded his arms across his chest, Jill felt a stone drop in her stomach at the wide array before them.
Raccoon City was still considered a small town in comparison to the other high profile city cases she was sure the agent before them had worked on, but part of her was relieved to have the assistance. It would do no good to rule anyone out based on their profession, even if that meant it was someone well known in the town.
Without needing to see her captain's eyes, she could tell his attention was on her when Special Agent Hamilton went on to discuss the religious nature of the themed clues left in each case. A professor from a university had been contacted and was on his way to Raccoon, however, a special credit had been mentioned in her name for the gathered details.
Where pride would have naturally lingered, Jill felt apprehension at the attention.
Even with the focus on this case from the federal government now, she couldn't help but feel like they were still missing something critical in the case. Something that should seem apparent, but the answers were evasive as she listened to the agent cover more portions of the known victims.
When the clock began to strike the hour for lunch, Detective Edward paused in his case briefings to acknowledge the conclusion of their assembly.
"Cooperation is the backbone of effective law enforcement," Detective Edward spoke as his closing thought. "By bringing you all into awareness of these details, it is our hope to provide this city with answers soon, a conviction, and justice to the women who have suffered."
Filtering out of the hall with the rest of the precinct, Jill felt lost in thought as she looked out toward the window at the rain that now poured across her city.
The chatter of her fellow officers was a steady drum around her when a hand clasped around her bicep. Startled from her thoughts, Jill turned to see Captain Wesker beside her.
"Have a moment?" It was posed as a question, but Jill knew it was anything but as he tugged her gently toward the open door of the records room.
"Yeah." Her voice croaked from the disuse in the last few hours.
Shaking off her blackening thoughts, the two of them pushed toward the open door before Wesker closed it behind them.
When Wesker opened his mouth to speak first as she leaned against one of the shelves of the empty room, she beat him to honor.
"Feeling better?"
"Yes," he supplied with the severity of the assembly still gathered around his features. "I would have appreciated being more prepared prior to the meeting but I'll blame current distractions for the cause of that."
"I think being human applies to even men like you, sir," she said, letting a small smile pull at her mouth. "I'm more than convinced that you've tried to keep that little fact from the rest of your men, but I am not deceived as easily; you needed rest."
"I suppose you would have to be sharp considering your new position as mommy for this team," Wesker said, an edge rivaling enjoyment in his tone.
How had he heard that conversation?
Busted, her mind whispered.
Not one to be cowed by him, Jill tossed back, "Does that title threaten your date for the ball as father of this team? I would hate to get in the way."
"Is that jealousy I detect?" Wesker's head cocked as he unfolded his arms and stepped closer toward her.
"No," she lied, beginning to fidget under his covered stare. "I just hope she likes cats is all. Whisker was here first."
"You are my date, Valentine," Wesker spoke when her back hit the last row of the records shelves.
"I am?" Her voice cracked before she seemed to remember herself. "I don't remember agreeing to that, captain. Even after I called you old?"
The sunglasses came away from his face and his growing smirk was only accentuated by the promise his gaze seemed to bid out.
"Indeed." Much like he did in his personal home office, he crowded close once more. "Did you think you could avoid suffering the consequences?"
"Now wait a second," Jill began as she lifted her face toward his, all too aware of the voices in the hall and those that could open the door at any moment. "A night of dancing isn't much of a punishment and you should be a little more grateful for your date's honesty."
"Do you think so?" Wesker asked before his fingers touched her chin. "And so you admit that you're mine? How refreshing, Valentine. I was almost afraid you'd play your games and accept Redfield's request."
"Is that jealousy I detect?" she repeated his earlier question when her lips whispered against his.
"After what you've displayed, I am confident that Redfield couldn't meet your tastes; not to mention how unprofessional the liaison would be." Wesker's free hand touched her hip and slid down behind her to cup the portion of thigh just below her ass.
"And what tastes are those?" Jill asked after releasing a scoff at his ironic jab for unprofessionalism.
Still, she didn't push her senior officer away from her as heat gathered low in her stomach.
In response, Wesker squeezed her flesh in a brutal grip. Her gasp and shift caused her to push the last few centimeters into his awaiting mouth with her own.
Her captain's chuckle vibrated his chest when he yanked her hips into his. He bit her lower lip a few times before he stepped back.
Despite the horrible details of their morning meeting, Jill found her chest rising and falling at the desire that had been building and reaching a peak in these last few weeks.
"We'll be investigating the sewer tonight," Wesker announced, his composure much more easily gathered than hers when she blinked a few times before nodding her head. "I would recommend wearing civilian clothes for the smell."
"That why you neglected to wear your bullet-proof vest today?" She had half the awareness to notice his missing apparel.
"Among other things," he answered, stepping back toward the door. "There's a study group happening this afternoon with the cadets now that classes are cancelled. I will collect you from there once my day is complete."
Feeling dismissed from the critical case details, Jill gave another nod and found herself trying to be grateful for being allowed to attend to her studies. She was more behind than she would have liked.
"You needed to ravish me in the records room to tell me that?" she asked as she stepped away from the shelf and back toward the hall door.
"Not at all," Wesker provided before he replaced his sunglasses, opened the door, and gestured her out first.
Jill felt his presence behind her like the wolf on the outer fence to the flock. A lamb didn't usually stalk the predator, but she wouldn't deny the subtle pleasure she got from teasing him.
A wayward thought had her wondering if he had been worried at the mention of a date upstairs. Glancing at him beside her, she couldn't imagine a man like him caring for such things, but she'd been assuming too much about his behavior recently.
Knowing exactly what Captain Wesker wanted from her was becoming clearer these days, but she couldn't be sure how deep it ran.
Wesker's demeanor had shifted back into its normal disposition when he parted from her last at the study group's door.
When Jill opened the door to the office, Kevin and the other cadets spotted Wesker disappearing around the corner. The catcalls that followed only caused her eyes to roll as she dished back the jabs and cracked open her book at the table beside them all.
It was close to 5 p.m. when the study group called it quits for the day. Lieutenant Branagh had left the day's previous course load with one of the other students. With a little disorder at first, Wes took the reins to assign the chapter, and set a timer. Eventually, each of them separated into pods to read the chosen chapter and go over the study questions amongst one another.
A pretty heady debate had sparked among several pods concerning Michigan Code 780.972, Use of deadly force by individuals not engaged in commission of crime conditions. Better known as the proposed Self-Defense Act.
As one of two female recruits, Jill had stood next to Cadet Stacy Kelso and argued the position of an individual honestly and reasonably believing that the use of deadly force was necessary to prevent the imminent sexual assault of himself or herself or of another individual.
Charged by her own history, Jill didn't back down from the opposition, but it was Stacy that kept her particularly calm when one recruit suggested that most sexual assault allegations could be the way someone could ruin the reputation of another.
The point was plausible but not one under the presented circumstances of evidence they were arguing.
Now, as she gathered her books, she spotted Kevin and Wes waiting for her near the door. The twin sly smiles on their faces had her face screwing up in suspicion when she neared.
"Look who's waiting for you," Kevin cooed.
Spotting Captain Wesker standing with Special Agent Hamilton talking in the conjoined hall, Jill tilted her head as she threw the two men an exasperated look.
"Don't let us stop you from seeing daddy," Kevin giggled before he put a hand on either side of Wes' shoulders and marched them both away before she could retaliate.
With grumbling breaths about the precinct being a gossip house, Jill adjusted the strap on her shoulder, tightened her grip on the umbrella she'd brought, and waited for her superior to finish his conversation.
Special Agent Hamilton caught her eye while he continued saying whatever thought he had been sharing with Wesker. As usual, Jill couldn't quite discern her captain's feelings through his facial features alone, but she thought he looked a little more rigid than before.
"Valentine," Wesker greeted when the special agent departed with a brief dismissal. "I suspect your classes went well."
"Have a feeling about that, do you, sir?" she asked as they began to walk, this time with Wesker leading.
"You changed into your civilian clothes," Wesker presented casually.
"Yes," she said, slowly drawing out the word before she glanced down at the simple jeans and white blouse she wore.
"Unlike your previous habits of conformity, this may suggest you were looking forward to the end of your day." He glanced over at her.
"I was thinking of studying so that I could be ahead of the class for the next day. Now I'm thinking of giving my captain a hard time," she countered. "But maybe there's time for both."
Wesker hummed in response as they made their way across the parking lot and toward his vehicle. Jill made a quick stop to her own vehicle to pull her bullet-proof vest from the passenger seat. Civilian clothes or not, the military had trained her never to preform without one.
Pulling her blue baseball cap from her backpack, Jill adorned her headwear as she spotted the continuous drizzle patterning on the surface of the ramp that led out onto the street. From her position, she couldn't tell if the reporters were still standing outside.
"So, what did you find out about Special Agent Hamilton?" she asked while she zipped up her pack and waited for the sound of the unlocking mechanism to his passenger side door.
At the lengthy pause, she glanced up to view her superior studying her from over the top of his Land Rover.
"What makes you think I would squander the time?" he asked.
Rising on her tiptoes to be able to fully see his expression from over the car, she studied him for a moment before she said, "Because you're thorough enough to check the competency level of those you work with, captain. Even a federal agent."
The locks popped open and she nearly grinned to watch him turn his eyes away first and slide in.
"Special Agent Hamilton has been doing this for a long time," Wesker finally answered as they began to traverse the slick road of Ennerdale Street. "Headstrong and occasionally ruthless, but deeply devoted to doing what's right." Wesker's sharp features turned toward her. "And he is not afraid to engage in ethically questionable behavior if he thinks it can bring results."
"Studious indeed," she replied, watching as his features took in the comment he had made to her previously.
"I don't enjoy having my words used against me, Valentine."
"The maybe you shouldn't give such useful instruction, sir," she answered, enjoying the curve of his smirk while he kept his eyes on the road.
While the job of sewer maintenance itself was dangerous, as several other employment pursuits were, sewage cleaning involved working with human excreta, and harsh conditions within an enclosed space.
Previously, when her time would allow, Jill had studied as much as she could about Carla's case details.
Asking for permission to view the crime scene again had involved shutting down that portion of the sewer, and ventilation processes to protect their entry.
Even so, Michigan state rules allowed for manual cleaning, in specific conditions where mechanical equipment could be deployed to fix the problem, or when it is absolutely necessary to have human intervention. But, more importantly, it specified a long list of protective devices and gear that any person engaged to clean a sewer, or a septic tank must be provided, including an air-line breathing apparatus, air-line respirator, air purifier gas mask, a device for artificial respiration, mask and breathing apparatus and hazmat gear.
When Wesker pulled out a hazmat bag she thought he may have obtained from Brad, she quickly adorned the safety gear while pulling on her gloves.
As they had thought previously, there wasn't much of anything they could find outside of what had been documented about Carla's crime scene previously. In addition to the reopening of this portion of the sewer, the rain had done more than enough to help keep the area damp and unrecognizable.
Wrestling with a disappointment that she knew was a high possibility, they didn't linger longer than they needed to within the damp space. Jill remained silent as her thoughts whirled through what they could be missing. Carla had been the first body found, and the one the department had to exhume.
The more she considered Carla Meyer, the more her thoughts brought her to the governor's daughter who had been the most recent victim. The gold paint that had been used for Carla had also been used for the newest victim.
THE BANE OF ALL MANKIND
"From her is the race of women and female kind,
of her is the deadly race and tribe of women who
live amongst mortal men to their great trouble,
no helpmates in hateful poverty, but only in wealth."
Wesker's hand wrapped around the lower portion of her back as they both hiked out of the sewer main entrance. The fumes were steadily dissipating behind them, but Jill could only focus on that warm hand at her back and her thoughts that never seemed to cease.
Captain Wesker seemed to understand her need to introspect and was silent, but his hand remained steady on her.
The trees toward the Arklay Scenic Route rose like jagged spires around them as they moved toward the captain's vehicle and Jill shivered from the cold mountain air that was more abundant in this part of the city. Only a single streetlight further down the road provided some detail to the landscape.
You can't protect them, captain. You can't protect HER.
Remove the Aegis and…
"The Aegis," Jill uttered as she spotted the handle of what she had brought poking up from the passenger side seat through the car window. "An umbrella."
"What is it, Valentine?" Wesker questioned, still standing on her side of the car.
"He told us to remove the Aegis in his message to you on the wall, captain," she said in a rush when she turned toward him. "The modern concept of doing something "under someone's aegis" means doing something under the protection of a powerful, knowledgeable, or benevolent source."
Even in the darkness, Jill could see when her captain swallowed that information and seemed to harden at the theory.
"The Aegis is also a mythology reference, one that I didn't think was that important given that the message was broken. Now, after going to the mines with Detective Edward... It also means the shield of Zeus, which all gods answered to. Scriptures detail his Aegis as ageless and immortal: a hundred tassels of pure gold hang fluttering from it, tight-woven, and each the worth of a hundred oxen."
"The gold paint," Wesker responded, his eyes trailing back toward the sewer. "You think this has to tie further into the connection of Umbrella and their influence on this city."
His fingers were curling around her hip once more as if to draw her close before the captain released her.
"We'll need to call the detective when we get back," he said beside her while the clinking of keys rippled from his pocket. "I know you're still in training, but I'd prefer you to stick with me on these portions of the investigation."
"As long as it doesn't stop me from passing the test. Maybe I could ask to test with the rest of the recruits instead of the accelerated version," she answered softly before glancing over at him.
Captain Wesker stared at her for a moment before he dipped his head once.
"I imagine you don't want any favors, the prideful sentiment is respected, but that's one I could assure should you continue to be useful to this investigation," he answered.
Useful to me, was what was layered beneath his words.
Jill swallowed the lump in her throat and ran a hand through her hair. Her eyes were trailing away from him to avoid the vulnerability displaying there. They were still standing beside his vehicle now, not quite departing from the area or the conversation at hand.
Her attention went over his shoulder when she noticed it.
Movement through the trees.
A silhouette distinguishable from the rest.
A radio tower was blinking off in the distance, and the silhouette had the misfortune of standing just before its vantage point; Jill could see the outline of the figure with every blinking flash.
Captain Wesker was facing her now, his back toward the figure that stood amongst the trees across the road.
Her paranoia had a form now.
Someone was watching them.
"Albert," she whispered. The severity from using his first name grabbed his attention quickly, and his head was snapping toward hers with his features tightening. "I need you to trust me."
Before he could protest further, Jill stepped forward between his feet and ran her hands up the planes of his chest. One hand moved up toward his neck before it curled around his jaw. Her right hand was smoothing across his ribs and toward his back when she felt him inhale deeply.
Jill pulled softly on his neck and Captain Wesker was leaning down toward her when she whispered in his ear.
"There's someone behind you. Just beyond the tree line. Watching." Her lips graced the shell of his ear when one of his arms curled around her back and pulled her in closer to his form. "I can't make out the details, but I can reach my gun in moments if he moves to engage."
Captain Wesker listened quietly, but with her chest pressed against his, she could feel his breathing picking up slightly. She kept her eyes over his shoulder while her mouth hovered at his ear.
They now appeared as two lovers enjoying privacy in the backroads. If they were lucky, this was just a citizen taking a stroll through the woods.
But Jill Valentine hadn't ever found luck to be on her side.
"Describe what you can." Wesker's mouth brushed the skin of her neck when he spoke. He was leaning his form down further to allow her access over his bent shoulder.
"Tall, maybe 6'1" maybe a little shorter. Looks like he's carrying something on his back. Could be a hiker," she murmured.
"What else, Jill?" he demanded into her skin.
Movement from the silhouette flickered from the light of the moon peeking through the clouds above. Something metal was in the figure's hands, and when Jill realized it was a gun, she only had seconds to react.
Those seconds felt like the longest she had ever endured in her life.
He wasn't wearing his vest.
Captain Wesker hadn't worn his vest like she had.
The silver object lifted fully, and Jill could dimly make out the formation of the hand holding it.
"Captain," she uttered before her hands were gripping his jacket tightly. With strength she didn't know she possessed, Jill spun her superior around and when the two shots fired, they were now behind her.
Pain lanced her back and she didn't have the breath to scream.
Captain Wesker was hauling her off of her feet and down beside the car when she heard him speaking next.
"Shots fired! Officer down. 834 Arklay Scenic Route, west of the water treatment facility. Suspect is on foot and is heading south across the boundary line." Captain Wesker was speaking into his radio while he set her on the ground near the Land Rover's tire and behind cover.
The light from the moon reflected off his pale hair, and Jill still couldn't get her breath in.
"Jill, hang on," she heard his smooth voice commanding tightly.
His gun was in hand as he leaned out to look for their newfound enemy. His free hand slithered down to her back and touched where the bullets had punctured her bullet proof vest.
The two bullets had hit the portion of the vest that covered her lower back, but even with the Kevlar blocking the bullet, it did nothing to dissipate the kinetic energy from the shot itself.
A quick swipe of her captain's fingers told her that the layers of Kevlar had succeeded in stopping the projectile, however, the interrupted force was similar to being hit by a baseball at 100 mph. It was the kind of force that would bring any grown man to their knees.
"Go," she managed the first word that she could.
They couldn't let the suspect get away.
"No." Despite the situation, her superior's strong tone brought her comfort as she writhed in pain against the tire of the Land Rover. When she spied his vision above hers, the heat in his gaze confused her before he leaned out again to survey the road.
The radio at his hip toned with the ETA from dispatch.
"What were you thinking, Valentine?" Wesker ordered above her.
"You don't—" Her breathing was painful as she leaned her head back. "—Have your vest on—Would've died."
His stare burned into hers and unlike the times in which it cultivated heat or conviction in her chest, this one felt more like the dispersed shots in her back.
His gaze was scathing.
Captain Wesker made no further comment before the flashing lights of more patrol units were lighting the darkened road they sat upon.
The area was suddenly awash with the noise of other crews and still, Captain Wesker barely looked at her when the patrol began to secure the area and gave the go ahead to the EMS crew.
Adrenaline was still coursing through her veins when she was placed on a stretcher.
"Jill!" Detective Edward's voice cut through the chatter. His face loomed over hers soon after, but she could barely make out his words.
"Captain Wesker," she breathed when they loaded her into the ambulance. Her cry of pain was sharp when she was jostled but still her eyes searched.
When she spotted her superior speaking with someone who appeared to be Special Agent Hamilton, she tried again, "Captain—" The ambulance doors closed behind the EMT, and Jill's confusion grew when they began to pull away.
At the gentle tones of the paramedic in the back of the rig with her, Jill's eyes caught on the symbol above the back of the ambulance doors. With her head falling back, the swirl of the red and white stripes burned behind her retinas.
The crest of the Umbrella Corporation's symbol would be hard to avoid. Especially as they transported her to one of their hospitals again. Only this time she would be alone.
Her mind went last to the way Wesker had looked at her. It was more than that of a disappointed superior.
Hate barely needed words to convey its signature in all the eyes who ever carried it.
Rage wouldn't have been adequate enough of a word to describe how much he felt in this moment. He heard her call out, but he didn't dare to turn and allow the surrounding officers any inclination to his current turmoil. Especially not with Special Agent Hamilton watching.
She had stepped in front of the bullets.
For him.
The leather of his glove groaned when his hand clenched at his side. Although Special Agent Hamilton didn't stop speaking, Albert watched when his attention dropped to the detail.
"Lucky that Valentine was in front of you," Special Agent Hamilton brought him back into the conversation with well-placed words.
"Luck," Albert drawled in a tone formed to disguise. "Is not what I would have called that."
"CSI crew got this out of her vest," Hamilton said, unphased at the response as he lifted an evidence baggy with an impacted bullet pulled from Jill Valentine's cut off vest. "Bullet of this caliber would have killed you fast without protection."
Distantly, Albert could hear the screams that had haunted his dreams since 1993. A flash of red on green. The ghost of pleading hazel eyes before his.
From his side vision, he could see the stern gaze of Detective Edward approaching. He hadn't missed the way Edward had leaned over her on the stretcher. Nor the tone of fear in the man's voice. A clarity that came with attachments.
A yearning to protect he hadn't felt in years.
He didn't respond to the obvious bait of the special agent in front of him, but instead turned on his heel once the ambulance pulled away.
"The trainee sure getting hurt a lot," Hamilton continued, making Albert stop. "Might want to consider moving her out of the way until this concludes."
"For once, Jack," Albert answered. "We agree on something."