Boundless Abyss

IV.

The Last Paradise


In the end, there was only emotion, and it was all that separated us from the beasts. There were just feelings, instinct, and the complete collapse of anything that wasn't us.

Need.

It bled red and black. It blistered on the skin and charred the bone. It churned and burned and bestowed the kiss of constant pain.

Pain.

It all hurt. It all hindered. It all left hope abandoned in the sheer magnitude of malicious regret.

It rolled now. It raped across the conscious mind until only a husk remained. It hollowed out the flesh and evicted the soul.

Greed.

It ate around the edges of the world and left it used and forsaken. It felt like arrows and eternal damnation. It felt like…him.

It was his mouth. It was his eyes. It was his hands – his fingers on her, in her, around her. Around her. Teeth and touch and tempting promise.

"Wait…" She breathed it. She birthed it. This encompassing need for him.

Lust.

She wallowed in it. It burst from her mouth with a gasp as he filled her husk with him.

His hands on her. His mouth on her. His fingers in her. In her. He was in her.

"Oh god…" She gasped it. She grasped it. She opened for it.

She thrilled over the want of it. She killed over the taste of it. She died over the absence of it.

"Please…" She moaned it. She owned it. She begged for it.

It was her utopia. He was her utopia. He was hers.

She swallowed the taste of him. Shimmer – she did it for him now. Shimmered. She'd waited so long for him. They longed. They lasted. They languished.

His fingers in her. His hands on her. His grip around her.

Around…she gasped. She bowed.

She fought.

Fear.

It was black and raw. It was big and rich. It was all around them.

She fought. She grabbed. He held on. He wouldn't let go. She tumbled. She stumbled. His body…holding on.

"No…" She grunted it. She mimicked the emotion of herself. A pantomime of who she was without him. Of who she'd be when he was…done.

Death.

It bloomed. It blackened. And he offered it to her now. Faust- awaiting his bargain with the devil. Dante – traversing the nine circles of hell. Brave?

Forsaken. Forbidden. It denied even as it declared for her. She slipped down to her knees.

He kept on holding on. Around her.

Love.

It was the thing that would kill her…and force her into the abyss while she clung to the man who destroyed her.


Three Months Prior -

Turks and Caicos, 2005


Her feet sank into the smooth white sand as she walked. The little white sundress she wore rippled in the breeze. Jill Valentine couldn't think of any place on earth better for a convention.

The individual villas were on stilts over the water. The convention was in support of adaptive response using interagency coordination regarding bioterror escalation in national and international waters. Boring.

But the locale?

Gold.

And filled with happy agents.

FBI, CIA, MI6, ISI, R.A.W, M.S.U, MOSSAD, R.S.C, the B.S.A.A, and US STRATCOM were all canoodling at the expense of their various taxpayer or benefactors. They were all eating lobster on someone else's dime for the good of the world. She tried to care and couldn't. Her hair curled in the wind, wrapping around her shoulders and her belly. It was getting too long; it needed a trim. But she'd enjoyed growing it out now that she was working for the White House and not being attacked by monsters on a daily basis.

The convention had spilled onto the beach in a traditional pig picking. It was a hog on an open fire pit of burning rocks. It smelled like ham and pineapples and bliss. Laughter and drinks were flowing.

The breeze was balmy, and the weather was perfect.

She tried to care about bioterror…but she couldn't.

She laughed, danced, shared stories and jokes, and had good conversations. It was a good trip. Chris and Jessica Sherawat were there as respective envoys. Claire was there for TerraSave. Parker Luciani - formerly B.S.A.A. and now working for the R.S.C. out of Russia- was also there. Old friends and new gathered to find a way to work together, celebrate their successes, and enjoy their good fortunes - because a T-Virus vaccine was in the making.

It was a great day.

Jill couldn't think of anything to make it better.

And then? She heard the guitar in the low flicker of the setting sun, in the shivering orange and gold of the fire.

She turned.

Hell, everyone turned.

And there he was.

Of course. He perched on a little stool with that guitar he'd confessed he loved. He played for the crowd as if he did it every day. He was wonderful at it.

The song was…haunting. It was eerie.

It was trying to kill her.

The water off the coast of Turks and Caicos was the same blue as Leon Kennedy's eyes.

Jill was pretty sure the ocean had nothing on those eyes, though.

It had been a few months since she'd seen him.

What was the feeling that slid between them?

It was tangible.

It was something.

Standing beside her, Jessica grabbed Jill's arm. "Shit. Who's that?"

Jill whispered breathlessly, "Leon Kennedy."

"Gorgeous. I heard he was gorgeous. He's fucking talented."

"…he's something."

Jill lifted her wine to her lips. The red liquid looked like blood in the firelight.

Jessica sighed dramatically, "God. He's something alright. Single?"

Jill shivered, mesmerized, "Last I heard."

"Yeah?"

Claire remarked casually, "He's not your type."

Jessica mused, "Honey, everybody is my type."

With affection, Claire conceded, "And you're everybody's type too...whore."

Jessica laughed convivially at the friendly ribbing. Claire tilted her head, "He looks bigger, right? I haven't seen him since, like...what...sometime after Raccoon City. He was sorta skinny then. He's buff now."

Jessica cooed happily, "He looks like a walking wet dream. You hit that?"

Claire chuckled happily, "Nope. He's not my type either."

Jessica rolled her eyes, "He's everybody's type, girl. You blind or stupid?"

Claire shrugged, "It never went that way for us, I guess. We haven't really spent too much time together. Maybe a few hours total in all the years we've been acquainted. We don't work in the same circles. He's a gun before hugs; I'm the band-aid on the bullet wound. He's cool though. We just don't always see eye to eye on things."

Curious, Jill queried, "In what way?"

"Leon likes to do things his own way. He means well, but it doesn't always work out in his favor. I hear that mess in Alaska was under his jurisdiction."

Without looking for a fight but feeling it coming, Jill answered, "That mess in Alaska wasn't him. He did everything right."

When Claire furrowed her brow in confusion, Jessica piped in, "Oh, yeah. That was Redfield. Didn't you hear?"

Claire winced, "...why am I not surprised?"

Jessica grinned, "Your brother is the fist in the face, sweetheart. I thought you knew."

Claire sighed, "It's who he is. Gotta accept him and love him as is, warts and all."

And just like that, there was no fight necessary. Claire was the most loyal person in the world, but she knew her brother. So, she had no doubt it was true, and that Chris was the guy on the hook for the mess in Alaska. Besides, the entire bioterror world knew Chris had become a rapidly destructive force. He answered every threat with maximum resolution. He was called The Human Tank for a reason. Where he rolled, destruction followed.

On the stage, the women parted, and Leon's head turned. Jill had her glass of wine halfway to her lips when he zeroed in on her. She felt him look at her. However, look was the wrong word.

She just felt him.

It was maybe that simple.

Maybe.

Claire saluted him with her glass. He winked. Jessica winked back and licked her lips suggestively as she closed her arms around her ample bosom and showed her cleavage to its best advantage in her barely-there red sundress. Leon looked amused.

But he wasn't really looking at her anyway. Jill took that sip of her wine and arched a brow at him. He arched one back and had her laughing softly.

Jessica determined, "I think he's interested. He looks interested, right?"

Claire snorted, "He's probably been blinded by your yards of tits in that dress. Jesus, woman, wear a bra."

"You're just jealous," Jessica retorted and had Claire laughing lightly, "I'm gonna find out what room he's in. Jill? Can I borrow your lock picks?"

Jill shook her head, "I didn't bring them."

"Pff, some thief you are."

Claire tilted her head, "He's really staring, though. She might be right."

He wasn't staring at Jessica. Jill wasn't sure how she could be positive about that, but she was. It was time to test the theory.

Jill felt something in her, like caution, shift and slide away. She whispered, "Excuse me."

She moved toward him where he was sitting, so casually, on that stool there surrounded by women.

She just…didn't care. She tried to…but couldn't.

He never stopped looking at her. She never stopped looking, either.

Enthralled.

He set the guitar down. He rose. He said nothing to the swirling girls around him.

She passed by him. He shifted and followed. Three steps behind. Three steps behind and to her right.

The sand was warm under her feet. She went straight down to the water. She left behind the party and the firelight. She moved into the moonlight and put her feet in warm water.

It seemed a promise was a promise, and he'd kept it. He was here. He was relaxing. Apparently, it was possible for him to cut loose. That was good; that meant there was still hope for them to attempt to be normal.

Jill crossed her arms as the breeze off the ocean rustled and raised goosebumps on her tanned skin. She was watching the moonlight over the water when the sand shifted beside her. Her lower lip rolled under her top teeth as she shook her head and remarked, "Took you long enough."

Amused, Leon answered, "Feels like a lifetime, gorgeous."

She didn't look at him. She was afraid she'd go blind if she did. They stared out over the ocean as the first of the fireworks lit the night sky. At the gathering site, everyone started laughing and clapping with excitement.

Jill queried, watching the explosion of color, feeling the breeze, tasting the ocean, and enjoying the peace while standing so close to his warmth, "How are you, Leon?"

"I'm bulletproof, Valentine. How are you?"

She smirked, "I'm tan. I'm a little tipsy. I'm here in this beautiful place, far from the unseeing eyes of the undead...I'm good."

His lips quirked, "You look good in white."

Eyes sparkling in the fireworks, Jill chuckled, "Yeah? That a proposal?"

He lifted his whiskey to his lips, "Could be. Depends on what I'm proposing."

"Oh, no doubt," She finally glanced at him and found him looking at her, "wanna hit me with your best shot?"

He held her eyes. She felt the smile slide over her mouth as she teased, "Really? Silence?"

"I hear it speaks for itself."

Charmed, Jill tilted her head, "What about the sounds of someday?"

His lips tilted, "Liked that song, did you?"

"Oh, I think all those twittering chippies back there were entranced."

"...what about you?"

Jill flicked her eyes from his to his mouth and back to his eyes. "I'm not that easy," she boasted and reminded him why he liked her, "even when I'm tipsy."

"I've never seen you tipsy, so I'm gonna have to call your bluff."

Shimmering with good humor, Leon offered her his whiskey. With an arched brow, Jill took it and tossed it back. No hissing, no flinching, no girly coughing - yep, he thought with a shiver of lust, just like he remembered. She wasn't like those women he'd left behind at the party. She hadn't ever been. She was a woman, god knew, and a creature of magnificent feminity but it wasn't because she tried. She was effortless. She didn't coo or giggle or toss her hair.

His eyes studied the hair in question - long, hip length long, and streaked with blonde now from the sun. She looked good blonde, but he missed the brunette. The blonde was too cool for her, too pale, and she wasn't either of those things. But it did make her blue eyes pop with their smudging of dark liner and curly lashes. It twirled in the wind around her waist from the ponytail that held it back from her flawless face. The curve of her delectable jaw and the lift of her mouth seemed to be begging for lips to caress them.

Amused at his own poetic thoughts, Leon lifted his thumb and swept the drop of whiskey on those lips. Jill caught the pad of his thumb between her teeth oh-so-gently and nipped, sucking the spicy liquid off. He wanted to kiss her, but that was risky. This close to nearly everyone they knew, kissing her would invite gossip across the board. He didn't want anyone to gossip about her.

Especially now.

Leon lowered his hand and laughed in a way that spoke volumes about denied longing. "...tease."

Jill chuckled and studied him in the jeans he wore. He was the guy who wore jeans on the beach, not trunks. The button-down shirt in blue had white hibiscus flowers on it, very Tiki-chic, and didn't seem like his style. It was unbuttoned over that impressive torso, showing a flicker of scars from the battle on his honed chest and belly. He was nicely tanned, implying he'd been here the whole time.

It was curious she hadn't seen him before tonight.

Curious, Jill inquired, "What are you doing here?"

Leon tilted his head, "Free vacation? You kidding? When does that ever happen to me? This way, I get to expense it too."

Jill chuckled again. "Right. Pretend to be working, get to laze about in the sun for free. The taxpayer enjoys the bill. Put on a contrived, panty-dropping guitar show for the girls. Everybody wins."

"Naturally," Leon considered and added, "and maybe I knew you'd be here."

Amused again, Jill studied the fireworks as she returned, "Hmm...Kevin?"

"He likes to think he's a matchmaker."

"He's a fart maker; not sure we should give him matches at the same time. He'd likely light his asshole on fire."

Leon laughed and wanted to put his arm around her shoulders and squeeze her. Checking the impulse again, he answered, "You're right about that," he watched the world catch fire in color and thought he was blessed somehow, blessed, always to be seeing the beauty of the world with her beside him. Somehow, she was always right there when he remembered how things looked when he put down the gun, "I'm glad you're here, Jill."

His favorite thing to say.

"Are you courting me?"

Surprised, he glanced down at her. "Do people still do that?"

Her mouth twitched, "So, they tell me."

"Depends," Leon said carefully, "do you feel courted?"

Jill chuckled, "Depends," she sparkled as she said, "on if you're doing it."

"Hmm," Leon licked his teeth, "I like you. I think you like me. I'm just...making that clear."

Jill smiled softly, "...ok."

"Is it?"

She glanced up at his face again, "...yes."

It was funny that they were both now kind of uncomfortable. It was almost humorous. Because they could flirt and throw around innuendos, but the second it got "real" they both weren't quite sure what came next.

"Well, we should get dinner again then."

"I'd...really like that." And she meant it. Virgin territory for her here. Dating was as alien lately as romance. It was going to be interesting to see what happened with them.

"I'll call you, gorgeous."

She glanced at his face as he backed up and teased, "You running?"

Leon chuckled and shrugged, "Not exactly."

"It's good to see you, Leon Kennedy."

"You're always welcome to see more of me, Jill Valentine."

And now it was her turn to laugh, "...tease."

"Story of my life." He saluted her with his empty glass as he backed up the beach and turned, headed toward the hotel.

Jill stood on the shoreline and watched the fireworks. She let the warm water work between her toes. And she liked the feeling of it. The feeling of the water, the wind, the joy of friendship and cooperation, the flirtation - she was happy. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd been really happy.

She didn't want it to end.

And that was how she found herself unearthing those lockpicks she'd claimed she didn't have and using them to let herself into his room.

It was risky. It was probably stupid. If anyone saw her, they'd assume they were shagging. But it was fine. They thought that anyway. They'd seen them together in Alaska; the gossip mill was already turning.

Maybe it was time to give it a reason to turn. And turn gossip into fact.

It seemed he'd done something with the door, and the locks were tricky. She had to pick three different ones before it would grant her entry.

When the lock gave, Jill eased the door open. She slipped into the darkness of his suite. A soft glow emanated under the bedroom door and barely gave any light to her invasion. She was creeping through the living area when a hand caught her arm and spun her around. She was pressed back to front with a hiss beside her ear and a gun in her ribs before she could do more than go completely still.

He had one hand around her throat and tilted her face back as he growled, "Wrong room, princess. Who sent you?"

And Jill breathed, "...Jack Daniels."

He froze. It was the only word for it. He went stock still against her with surprise.

He'd forgotten it seemed that she had that well-earned nickname- The Master of Unlocking. Apparently, even his carefully secured door hadn't stood against her. She was good enough to pick her way through his carefully engineered deterrents.

Jill felt her breath speed up as he didn't let her go. He didn't lower the gun, either. Breath-catching, she teased, "...gonna shoot me for breaking and entering?"

He didn't shoot her; he didn't let go of her. The gun slid out of her ribs, hung at her waist, and pointed at the floor. She was so nervous and hadn't been nervous in a long time. But she'd come here to make a point. So, she made it.

Heart hammering, she challenged, "Tell me to fuck-off, Leon...tell me, and I'll go."

Jesus.

He'd challenged her that night in Alaska with nearly the same words. He couldn't seem to find his voice as she whispered, "you want me to go?"

Eyes locked in the darkness, he simply shook his head as Jill spoke again, whispering and sounding almost unsure, "...do you just...want me?"

Leon started to lean to kiss her, and the door behind him creaked, "Daddy?"

And just like that, Jill figured out why he'd left her on the beach. He hadn't come on the getaway alone. Of course, he hadn't.

Horrified, she breathed, "...I'm so sorry."

Leon let go of her and grumbled, "Don't be."

Jill moved out of his arms and pasted on a smile as she turned to face the little girl in the doorway clutching a little bear in her arms. In the darkness, she had Leon's eyes, but Jill had to take a sharp breath as the face struck her hard enough that she put a hand on Leon's arm and desperately wanted to ask who her mother was.

Because that little girl looked almost like Ada Wong with dark blonde hair.

Leon crouched and crooked a finger, "Come here, baby, and say hi for me."

The little girl dragged the bear with her as she approached, rubbing her tired eyes with one clenched fist. "I'm thirsty, Daddy."

Leon picked her up and rose, holding her against his side as the little girl studied Jill, hugging the bear against herself and her father. Jill gave her a genuine smile, "Hello," Jill greeted softly, "I'm Jill."

"I'm Nat," The little girl shook the bear and added, "this is Lottie."

Jill greeted the bear, "Hello, Lottie."

Lottie had seen better days. She was missing a button eye and looked patched in places. She was clearly well-loved. "Is Nat short for Natalie?"

Nat shook her head, "Natalia."

"Oh," Jill smiled again and wiggled a finger at Lottie's soft furry belly. It made the little girl grin as she added, "Natalia is a pretty name."

Nat giggled, "It's a princess's name."

Lord.

Jill flicked her eyes to Leon and asked, "Are you a princess?"

Nat nodded rapidly, "Daddy's princess."

Of course, she was. Touched, charmed, Jill's smile bloomed soft and made her look young again as she agreed, "Oh, without a doubt." Jill paused and finally said, "I'm gonna go and let you and your Daddy get some sleep...it was nice to meet you, Nat."

Nat wiggled the bear and encouraged, "and Lottie. Kiss?"

"And Lottie," Jill added and kissed the bear when the little girl raised it to her. She held Leon's eyes briefly before saying, "Goodnight, Leon."

He pressed his cheek to his daughter's soft hair and answered, eyes latched onto her face, "Goodnight, Jill. Thanks for stopping by."

Nat prompted, "Kiss?"

With a roll of good humor, Jill leaned up and pressed a kiss to Leon's forehead. The old gesture made him chuckle as she slid back to her feet from tiptoe and waggled her fingers, "Sleep tight."

"You too, Jill. Good to see you."

Jill smiled stiffly and nodded, heading toward the door. She slipped out into the hallway, let the door close behind her, and blew out a breath. This was why it was never wise to be impetuous. You stumbled into a room, trying to be coy and clever, hoping to get laid - and you woke up a sleeping child.

And your own sleeping need as well.

She laid a hand on her belly and yearned for him. When she closed her eyes, she could still remember his breath beside her ear as he urged her body to release. She could still feel his fingers inside her like he'd branded himself there.

Whatever was in her for him, it was enthralling. She hadn't been enthralled with a man- ever. She wondered what it was about him that had left it's mark.

She wondered if she would ever really be ready to let it consume her. The complications that came with him, and his kid, and his life, and his secrets...was she ready for it?

Maybe she wasn't. Maybe she never really would be...but all she knew? She was rapidly becoming a woman who was willing to risk herself to try.