Something doesn't feel right about this. Joseph can't necessarily explain why, but his guts feel like they're tied in knots and there's this pervasive sense of uneasiness that won't leave him. Sure, the howls of the hellhounds in the distance definitely don't help, but they're not the sole reason why he feels this way. Something just isn't right about Barry and he doesn't know how to call him out on it.
"You said Chris and Jill found a safe way out?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest to try to keep warm despite the chill of night.
"Yeah," Barry smiles warmly, "They found a radio in the Residence up here. We'll be out of this nightmare soon."
Rebecca sighs in relief and Richard laughs nervously. It's hard to believe they're gonna make it out of here…and that's why he doesn't.
"And they sent you to come get us?"
He tries to arrange the timeline together in his head. Chris was being all broody and Chris-like so he got mad and went to go look for a way out. Yeah, that's normal. Jill woke up and freaked out because Chris went alone and decided to go help him. Yep, not surprising. He saw all that go down.
So then Chris and Jill go exploring or whatever and they find some cabin in the woods? They run into Barry and they're just like, "Oh hey Barry, we left two wounded people behind with Rebecca in the murder mansion! Can you go alone to get them and bring them here while we fuck around with this radio? Cool, thanks!"
Nah. That's just…not something they do.
Joseph pointedly stares at the back of Barry's balding head like it's gonna get him some answers. Chris and Barry had that Air Force brotherhood shit going on, so why would Barry do something like this? Barry wasn't a bad guy. Like he told Jill, Barry is practically Alpha Team's dad. Hell, Barry is a dad! Why would he be acting so shady?
He needed to think it over. Thankfully, the path to the Residence Barry mentioned seemed endless, so he had plenty of time to figure it out before they got there.
The night sky was so dark that he couldn't even begin to guess what time it was. It had to be getting close to sunrise though. It felt like that eerie hour near the end of night where it's darker than ever and everything seems suspicious. Normally, he'd be looking over his shoulder for the Boogeyman while taking out the trash at this hour. This time, he's looking over his shoulder for hellhounds and zombies and reptilian fucks with claws. They could be lurking anywhere in all these damn bushes and trees.
Barry suddenly comes to a halt, causing them all to stop behind him. He narrows his eyes and turns his head to stare into the trees to their left.
"Did you hear something?" He asks in a harsh whisper.
He can't really see anything, just the skinny, greying trunks of the skeletal trees growing this way and that. There's a creepy layer of fog rolling across the ground from all the rain or however that nature stuff works. He squints hard, but still can't see anything in the darkness that fills the woods ahead.
"No...I don't think so…"
Right on cue, he hears it. The eerie, clinking sound of metal. It sounds like a chain, like…
"Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no!"
Not it again.
"It's the thing with the faces. We gotta get out of here!"
Joseph does the most logical thing one can do in such a situation. He fucking books it, breaking out into a sprint so fast that he slips a little on the wet, rotting leaves on the ground. That hoarse, echoing wail pierces through the air and he hears Rebecca shriek in terror. Joseph spins around to see it—the thing—emerging from the woods.
It's disgusting. The figure is hunched over, dressed in a nondescript, ratty gown that reminds him of the hospital. Its hands are bound in front of it, arms heavily weighed down by the contraption holding them together, and the chains between the shackles around its ankles clink as it moves.
That face doesn't belong to it. Neither of them do. It's like the skin had been carefully excised from someone's face and draped over the creature's head. The colorless, limp, loose flesh that has been haphazardly sutured together makes him want to vomit. He gets a glimpse of what's underneath in a gaping hole between the faces—bare gums, rotting teeth, and the white of the monster's eye. What the fuck is it?
It hunkers down and waddles towards Rebecca with this weird movement that isn't quite a run or a crouch. Bullets are firing, both from Rebecca and Barry, but the monster doesn't seem to mind it. He watches them pierce the excess folds of flesh draped over its head, but it doesn't seem to bleed. Hell, he wishes he had something to shoot with too, but it probably wouldn't do them any good.
The pained growl the creature makes sounds vaguely human. Joseph has to remind himself that it's not human, not anymore, and it sure didn't give a damn that he was human when it conked him over the head with that heavy ass board binding its wrists. It's getting too close to Rebecca so he starts screaming as loud as he can—"HEY! OVER HERE! HEY, FUCK YOU! HEY!"
It doesn't change its trajectory. Rebecca's gun clicks, the disturbing sound of an empty magazine, and she fumbles for another. There's no doubt that she's terrified, not with how pale her skin is and how wide her eyes are. They're all scared, but maybe she's the most scared because she's supposed to be saving lives and not taking them, right?
He isn't really thinking when he moves. Joseph doesn't realize what he's done until he's yelping in pain as his injured shoulder comes in contact with the monster, causing it to topple to the ground. He knows he's bleeding based on that hot, wet, sticky feeling beneath the sleeve on his shirt, but he'd rather bleed than watch Rebecca die. The monster struggles to get up and Barry keeps shooting it, but it doesn't even fucking care. It doesn't flinch, bleed, or so much as turn in his direction. Can it even feel it?
There's this tearing, squelching sound when the monster gets back on its feet and he watches in horror as tentacles break through and hover in the air. They escape where they can, through the empty eye holes and mouths of those skinned faces, and he feels his blood run cold as ice. He doesn't even know if they can survive this. All he can do is cringe at the sight of those wriggling, slimy tentacles that periodically furl in a way that seems involuntary.
One moves so fast that he can't even follow it in real-time with his eyes. It's wrapped snugly around Rebecca's throat and lifts her off the ground. She's clawing at it, mouth open without making a sound, and she's starting to get even paler. Joseph thinks this is what suffocation looks like. He's frozen in place, unsure of what to do. It feels like he's underwater—everything around him is blurry and nothing sounds right—and he can't even think.
The monster screams. Joseph realizes Richard's hanging on its back, one arm wrapped around where its neck should be as he rears back the other to plunge his knife into it. He stabs it repeatedly as the creature stumbles forward and throws itself backwards, bringing both of them to the ground. The monster shrieks and clumsily scrambles to its feet and Richard groans in pain. What is he supposed to do now?
He doesn't know. Joseph's paralyzed in fear as he watches the monster reel back, lifting its bound hands into the air in preparation to strike. He's yelling, he thinks, to try to get its attention, but it doesn't really seem to care. The creature screams as it brings down its arms in a swift motion, clobbering Richard so hard with its wooden binding that he can hear it collide against his skull.
Rebecca's crying, maybe. He's not sure. Barry's definitely shooting.
And just like that, the monster sways on its feet before stumbling over and falling face-first in the gravel. Those nasty tentacles are still wriggling around, but the monster is just laying there in a heap with no apparent sign of life. He hears gravel flying as Rebecca sprints over to Richard and cradles his bloody head in her hands.
Richard groans. He's alive.
"We have to keep moving." Barry sternly says. "It won't stay down for long."
"What…what do you mean?" Rebecca stutters as she frantically stacks thick layers of gauze from her pack to press against Richard's wound.
"It can't die."
"How do you know that?" Joseph demands to know.
"I've already tried." Barry explains. "Twice now. It just…keeps coming back. We have to get out of here."
It seems plausible enough. Joseph can't quite put his finger on it, but something's off with Barry.
"Hey, pops," Joseph tries to play it cool, "What do you think is going on around here?"
Joseph passes Rebecca the bag of journals and shit that he swiped from the mansion and helps hoist Richard to his feet as he waits for an answer, slinging one of his heavy arms across his shoulders. Richard's clutching the gauze against his bleeding scalp and sways slightly on his feet, but leans into Joseph for support. They start to slowly shuffle down the path.
"I don't know, but it all feels…intentional."
Barry's response surprises him. Intentional?
"What do you mean?" Rebecca softly asks. Her voice is still trembling.
They continue to make their way down the path. Joseph can't help but occasionally peer over his shoulder to make sure they're not being followed by…anything, really. There's no telling what might jump out of the darkness of the forest.
"All these goofy puzzles," Barry starts, "All these riddles and locks and such."
Joseph has no idea what he's talking about.
"What puzzles?"
Barry sighs and scratches at the back of his neck. Is that a nervous tick?
"Back at the mansion. I kept finding all these puzzles. A riddle in the graveyard, locks with specific insignias on them."
"I didn't see anything like that." Joseph says. If the skepticism in his voice is obvious, then good. He wants Barry to know that he's not really buying it, but he's not ready to just say it outright. Not yet.
"The sword lock," Richard grits his teeth, probably trying to talk through a pounding headache, "Rebecca and I saw a lock with a sword on it on the second floor."
Rebecca nods. "We couldn't get in."
That's fair, Joseph supposes. He did spend most of the night running from Satan's hounds and bleeding on the floor of some stinky old cabin.
"Did you solve any of these puzzles then?" He asks.
Barry hesitates.
"A couple."
Joseph rolls his shoulders, redistributing some of Richard's weight across his back. He tightens his grip on his hip and feels the sweat from his palm begin to seep into the fabric of his shirt. His own body hurts, but he sucks it up and stays quiet. Richard seems a lot more hurt than he does at this point. He doesn't wanna add any more stress for Rebecca.
Barry's explanation doesn't really make a lot of sense to him either. As much as he loves mysteries and shit, he isn't sure he'd waste time dicking around with stupid riddles tonight. Barry's a smart guy and he seems like he cares about them. At the very least, he definitely cares about Chris. Why would he be playing the deranged reindeer games of some crazy ass murder mansion genius when his friends are in danger?
They make it to the infamous Residence and it's just as uninviting as Joseph expected it to be. It's a rickety old cabin with dirty ass windows and a creepy ass yellow light illuminating the doorway in a way that screams get the fuck out of here. He can't see inside through all the nastiness caked up on the windows, but he hopes it's not infested with spiders like all the webs on the outside suggest.
"Looks like there's an axe murderer inside."
Joseph is quickly reminded of Lester and he regrets it as soon as he says it. Never thought he'd say he wished he was back in that nightmare, but now he kind of wishes he was. Anything is better than whatever is going on tonight.
He and Barry help Richard shuffle in through the door. It smells fucking nasty inside, like rotten vegetables and dirt and dead things, but that seems to be the trend tonight.
"I hate this place." Joseph grumpily announces.
Barry laughs.
"Me too, Frost. Me too."
The slow turning of the fan above him makes a screeching sound, one loud enough to make him flinch. Chris trepidatiously tiptoes his way down the narrow corridor. He takes a left turn, weapon drawn, and sees Jill appear from further down the hall.
"It's clear."
He lets out a heavy sigh that he didn't realize he had been holding. Wiping away the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, he holsters his gun and takes in their surroundings. The tall concrete walls and smell of chemicals make him a little dizzy. It's definitely some kind of lab.
"He has to be around here somewhere."
There's malice in Kevin's voice. Chris turns to face him and he grimaces at the sight of him. Kevin's skin is pale and visibly clammy. He reaches up to scratch at the side of his neck where sweat-dampened hair clings to his skin. Chris feels sick. Itchy. Tasty.
"We need to just get the fuck out of here."
Chris isn't sure he was successful at hiding the panic in his voice. He doesn't know where to take Kevin to fix him, but he knows standing around here won't do a damn thing. Surely a hospital could figure this out.
"Yeah, but…" Jill pauses, like she's not even sure what to say, "If we run into him, we should…"
"He better hope we don't run into him." Chris interrupts. "I swear to fuck, I'll—"
"Take him into custody." Jill finishes her train of thought. "We need to get answers and it sounds like he has them."
Does he really even care about answers at this point? All he wants to do is get out alive. If killing Wesker is what accomplishes that, so be it. He doesn't need answers that badly.
"Let's split up and try to cover as much ground as possible." Kevin suggests. "The sooner we get out of here, the better."
Jill doesn't protest. Chris wants to, but he doesn't know how. Kevin seems confident despite looking like shit.
"...Yeah, fine," he finally gives in, "But as soon as one of us finds a way out, we're getting the others and getting the fuck out."
It's a unanimous agreement. Kevin stays behind to search the front end of the facility while he and Jill head deeper inside. When the path diverges, he looks over at her and finds that she's looking right at him.
For a moment, neither of them say anything. He just watches her, studies those pale blue eyes and resists the urge to wipe the stain of grime off her cheek. She's always hard to read and this time is no different. He doesn't know what's going through her head as she stares him right in the eyes with that neutral expression.
"Hey, Jill."
Her expression softens a little. It makes him feel warm.
"Don't die, okay?"
He tries not to sound like he's pleading even though he practically is. Chris doesn't know what's going to happen to Kevin, but if she dies too then…
"Hey, Chris."
It's like he's watching the ice of her eyes melt. There's something in her stare now that feels familiar. It's comforting and safe. When she smiles at him, Chris almost forgets he's trapped in a hellscape that's beyond his wildest nightmares.
"You better not die either."
He realizes he's grinning when his cheek starts to hurt.
"Deal."
Most of his search is unfruitful—a lot of storage areas, lab equipment, and examination rooms for purposes he isn't quite sure of. Chris eventually finds himself near a set of jammed metal double doors. He rams one with his shoulder once, then twice, and the door gives way, causing him to stumble inside.
As far as he can tell, it's empty. He moves quickly to secure the room. Medical supplies, a laptop, computer monitors, shelves, filing cabinets, desks. He can barely make out the faint tendrils of fog lazily creeping from the doorway at the back of the room. Chris hesitates as he approaches. The temperature drops the closer he gets. It must be some type of freezer.
He only catches a glimpse of it before a loud banging catches his attention. It sounds like it's coming from overhead and he looks up just in time to see the ventilation grate come flying towards him. He steps to the side as quickly as he can, but the heavy metal plate lands on his shoulder and he grunts. Chris doesn't exactly realize what's happening. He hears a screech, one that he can't correlate to any kind of creature he's encountered thus far, and his feet are suddenly leaving the ground.
The hairy appendage wrapped around his neck is hard to the touch, like it's covered in some type of exoskeleton. He can't tell what the fuck it is, but there's something sharp at his throat and it feels like there's a set of fingers tangled in his hair. Chris thrashes and another limb snakes around his upper body. He angles his weapon the best he can and fires blindly. The creature hisses and its grip falters, but not enough to drop him. It whips the back of his hand with another horrifying limb and he hears the gun clatter on the floor.
Chris feels the sting of the spiked appendage at his neck as the monster applies enough pressure to break the skin. His neck feels hot and he can't tell if it's blood or sweat that's starting to dribble down the column of his throat. He grips the bladed arm tight, trying to force it away from his neck. With his opposite hand, he makes a fist, and swings backwards against the creature. He strikes something hard and cold, pulls his arm back, and punches it again. Something hard splinters and the monster presses hard against his palm, bringing the blade back against his neck. He's fucking exhausted and it's obvious with the way his strength is faltering.
Fuck, is this really how he's gonna go out? Strangled or decapitated by some fucking nightmare that he doesn't even get to see?
He cries out in pain as the tip of the talon digs deeper into his neck, tearing into soft tissue. It fucking hurts, throbbing and stinging and every other word he can possibly think of to describe pain, and he tries to wriggle out of its grasp again.
The loud knock of the metal door banging against the wall seems to catch the monster by surprise. The pressure against his neck lessens and he sees the look of horror on Jill's face as she takes in the scene. Her brow furrows and she raises her gun. She widens her stance. He realizes that she's trying not to shoot him.
"I'd rather die from—"
The blade is digging into his neck again.
"—a bullet than whateverthefuckthisisjust fucking shoot it!"
The shots she fires are deafening. Chris lands unceremoniously on the floor, right on his knees, and he hisses in pain. He hears what he assumes is the monster's corpse land on the ground behind him with a dull, heavy thunk, but he doesn't get a chance to turn around and inspect it. Jill is right in front of him. Her warm hands are on his face. She tilts his face upwards, gently persuading him to crane his neck, and she assesses the damage.
As he extends his neck, injured fascia stretches, and he winces. He looks down at her and, fuck, he swears he can hear his heart busting into a thousand pieces because she's fucking crying. Jill is crying because he's a dumbass.
"Hey…hey." He croaks, swallowing thickly to choke down whatever it is that he's feeling. "It's cool. I'm alright. You saved my ass."
He doesn't think she's listening. Her fingertips are still pressed against his jaw and she's absently nodding, eyes still filled to the brim with tears.
"Holy shit!"
Kevin's hovering in the doorway, attention wavering from the crumpled creature on the floor to his injury. Chris turns his entire upper body to the side to avoid turning his head, regrettably pulling away from Jill's touch, and gets a glimpse of the bastard on the ground. The fine hairs on its nasty, insect-like appendages and the way the light reflects off its exoskeleton are enough for him. He looks away. Fuck that, fuck this, and fuck everything else tonight.
"Let's just get out of here." He grumbles as he clumsily rises to his feet. "How much ammunition do we have left?"
Kevin shakes his head. "Nothing on me."
"About six shots." Jill answers. "I'm alright."
Chris picks up his gun off the floor and hands it to Kevin.
"Don't argue with me." He insists before Kevin even has a chance. "You're not fighting off a damn thing in your state. You need it."
He tosses his last magazine to Jill and she catches it with a surprised look on his face.
"Chris, you can't—"
"Just take it, alright?" He gestures to the knife secured on his vest. "I'll be fine."
He gives his best attempt at a pleading look and Jill resigns without saying another word.
"Is it just me or is Barry being weird?" Joseph asks as he sits on a storage trunk, swinging his dangling legs back and forth as he thinks. He's kicking up dust that dances around in the air, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window nearby. How long has this place been empty?
"Um, I don't really know him." Rebecca responds as she pours some antiseptic onto a pad of gauze. "I wouldn't know."
Richard winces as she begins cleaning his wound. Gross.
"Nothing seems off to you?"
"Everything seems off tonight." Richard counters and he can't even argue. Everything definitely is off tonight, but that includes Barry, too. That's his whole point!
Joseph sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall.
"I dunno…it just doesn't sit right with me."
He mulls over the logistics of it. It's not like he can be like, 'Hey Barry, you're being kinda weird so what's up with that?' Barry could easily just deny it. He can't confront him based off of a hunch. He needs something…something concrete. Evidence or whatever. Damn. Even in the damn hell hound apocalypse, there's red tape. Of course.
"I'm gonna go see what he's up to." He announces as he leaps off the trunk. "You guys gonna be okay?"
"We're fine." Rebecca says with a forced smile. "Will you be okay?"
Joseph shrugs.
"I don't think anyone's gonna be okay even if we make it out of this."
He stops to stare at the gun on her hip.
"Hey, can I borrow your gun? You know…just in case."
Rebecca looks down at it.
"It's empty."
Yeah, but Barry doesn't know that.
"Well, you never know."
Rebecca shrugs and lets him have it. It feels unusually heavy in his hand and he wonders if it's his mind playing tricks on him, like his subconscious is telling him that it's probably not a good idea to point a gun at your friend but Barry might not really be his friend after all so his moral compass can fuck right off.
The moldy floorboards feel unstable beneath his feet. They creak and groan, just barely succumbing to his weight and shifting in various places. He hopes the place doesn't have a basement that he's about to fall into, but he knows it definitely has one because who the heck builds a horror movie murder cabin in the woods and doesn't include a basement?
He turns left and right, looking around the T-shaped hallway. There's really not much to see, just a bunch of doors here and there and big ass holes in the floor. If he wants to find the basement, he's pretty sure trying to tiptoe his way over them is a surefire way to do it. He decides it's not the best idea and turns back around. Where the heck is Barry?
He pauses at one of the dirty ass windows at the front of the residence and wipes at it with the side of his palm, covering his glove with a nice layer of filth. Joseph grimaces at the sight of it, but it's really the least of his worries. He peers through the window and sees Barry standing outside.
Joseph can tell just by the way Barry's standing that he's up to something. He's got his shoulders pulled forward in a defensive way and he's kind of bent over something. He can't tell what it is, but the blue glow reflecting off the side of his profile makes him think that it's something that he's not supposed to know about so Joseph does the most rational thing he can: he barrels out that door, stomping and cursing with Rebecca's gun pointed right at him.
Barry has already shoved whatever it is in his pocket. He looks surprised.
"Alright, for real. Tell me what you're doing."
The pained expression on Barry's face makes him uncomfortable. It's almost enough to make him put down the gun.
"I'm serious, old man. Tell me what's going on."
He eyes the magnum on Barry's hip. Probably not a good idea to let him keep that if he's some kind of murder scientist's lackey.
Barry sighs. It's long, slow, and miserable.
"I don't want to do this," he says with a voice so soft that Joseph feels like he himself is the real bad guy here, "But my family is in danger. They threatened to hurt them if I didn't comply."
"Who's they?"
Barry's not really a handsome guy, but now his face is scrunched up in this horrible way that makes him look even worse.
"I don't know."
He looks at Barry's gun again. It doesn't seem like he's gonna grab it, but…
"I'm not completely sure, but this…" He gestures at everything around them, "This was all planned."
"Why?"
His hands are so sweaty that he feels like he might drop Rebecca's gun.
"It's some kind of test. They sent us out here to test all these experiments. If they were enough to take us out, they'd be able to put up a fight against the military, I guess. Or use them in warfare."
That doesn't really make a lot of sense.
Barry moves to reach into his pocket and Joseph does what he has to do. He steps forward, tightening his hold on the gun, and tells him to keep his hands up. It feels wrong as he takes Barry's gun. It's confusing when he reaches into the pocket of his vest and pulls out a PDA.
"What's this?"
"It's a map. They wanted me to help lure you all through." He clenches his eyes shut and grits his teeth, like he's ashamed and might even cry. "I tried to take care of it as much as I can. Solving the stupid riddles and killing some of the monsters, but…"
He feels sick to his stomach.
"Let me get this straight…someone gave you this map and instructions, but you don't know who? That doesn't make any sense, man."
Barry has that ugly look on his face again.
"I…I can't, Joseph," he whispers, "The girls are in danger."
This all sounds like a bad movie. Can he really trust him?
"Did you kill any of us?" He hoarsely asks, choking on his disappointment.
"No." Barry shakes his head. "No…I wouldn't. I couldn't. I just…"
Barry makes this gross sound, like he's swallowing a hiccup or something.
Joseph narrows his eyes.
"How can I trust you?"
"I…I suppose you can't. I don't blame you."
"Why didn't you just tell us right away?"
"I'm worried about my family, Joseph. I thought I might be able to handle it on my own. It was stupid."
"Yeah, no kidding."
He feels overwhelmed. It's like his whole life has been a lie or something. In a way, it kind of has been. They're being played like fools in some weird game and Barry won't even tell him who the mastermind is.
Joseph groans.
"Where's Chris and Jill?"
He doesn't wanna look at Barry, not while he has that pathetic, sad look in his eyes.
"Probably underground and on the way to the lab right now."
Joseph narrows his eyes.
"What's in the lab?"
"The way out."
"Is that true though? Is it really the way out or is it a trap?"
Barry sighs.
"You don't have to trust me, but it's our only chance."
Joseph wonders what the alternative is. Does he take the risk and let Barry show them the supposed way out or do they keep wandering around the mansion and get picked off by monsters?
"Fine," he gives in, "But you're taking the lead and this gun is staying right where it is."
The soft, mechanical woosh of the automated doors closing behind them carries a strange sense of finality to it. She feels the hair at the back of her neck standing on end as she tries to take in as much of the room as she can. It's clinically white, lined with computers and technology she's not familiar with. Massive glass holding chambers filled with liquid harbor grotesque creatures that she doesn't get a chance to study in detail because she sees the silhouette of a man hunched over a keyboard and she knows it's him.
"Wesker!"
She can taste the bitterness in Chris's voice.
The quiet tapping at the keyboard falters and Wesker's shoulders stiffen. Slowly, with infuriating grace, he turns to face them.
"Ah."
His face is expressionless, half of it hidden beneath his dark shades. Jill can't tell if he's looking at her, but she suspects he's glaring back at Chris with as much hate as he can muster.
"Redfield. Just the man I wanted to see."
His lip curls into the faintest hint of a smirk. Even as she stands behind him, she can tell Chris is fuming.
"I have something magnificent to show you, but first…"
A chill runs down her spine. Jill is certain that he's looking her way.
"Valentine, I must say that I'm rather disappointed in you. I paired you with Redfield for a reason. You were supposed to hinder one another and yet…"
A pained groan escapes him, one laced with disgust.
"You were too fucking brilliant, Valentine. Such a shame it is. Were you not stupid enough to cooperate with this imbecile, you would have been perfect…"
He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs in a way that seems wistful.
"Redfield continues to be a nuisance. Foiling my plans and failing to meet my expectations…"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Chris interjects. "What the fuck is going on here?"
"Must I water it down for you, Redfield? Perhaps you should ask your partner. Valentine managed to put together the pieces far too quickly. Fortunately, she did not meet my expectations and instead bonded with you. I was almost worried for a moment."
He laughs, shaking his head in disdain.
"There are no words to express my disappointment, Valentine. You could have been perfect. Why is it that people flock to you, Redfield?"
Her mind is racing as she tries to arrange all the pieces together. Was Wesker truly behind all of this? For what purpose?
"Why are you doing this?"
She feels hurt and, for some inexplicable reason, a little ashamed. How could Wesker be behind all of this without any of them realizing it?
Wesker laughs icily and, for the first time, she actually senses a little humor in it.
"As brilliant as you are, Valentine, I'm afraid you still wouldn't understand. Your disability…"
He nods in Chris's direction and scoffs.
"...as with most humans, is emotion. This is precisely why. So many humans and yet so little to offer. They aimlessly wander around, wasting our resources and repopulating, filling the planet with even more worthless spawn. That is why…"
He turns towards one of the chambers and smiles. He truly, genuinely smiles and it makes her blood run cold.
"...I have created the perfect lifeform."
The creature suspended in the tank is horrifying. Jill wonders if it was a man once, given its hulking, masculine figure, but it's mutilated enough to be decidedly not human. A massive heart sits on the outside of its chest with an intricate vascular network passing over its shoulder and down an arm that bears a massive claw. Its waxy, pale skin is nearly translucent, revealing the pale blood vessels beneath and a collection of raised, pink pustules on its hip. Though it seems to be sleeping, the lack of lips on its face gives it a permanent, soundless snarling appearance.
"Humanity is frail. Disgusting. Weak. Illogical." He turns in Chris's direction again and scowls. "Yet…I have managed to overcome this. I have managed to eradicate everything that makes humanity flawed. Soon, I will create a new reality; a new world capable of more than you could ever imagine. All that's left is eradicating the weak."
There is no hesitation in his next move. In a swift, fluid motion, Wesker draws his handgun and fires. Jill acts on instinct, firing back, and sees the bullet strike one of the monitors behind Wesker.
The world feels like it's moving in slow motion as she watches Chris tackle Wesker to the ground. She turns, the beat of her heart roaring in her ears, and sees Kevin lying on the ground. He splutters, a fine spray of blood misting into the air, and he looks at her with a tired, glassy gaze.
She knows it's useless, but she runs to him anyway. Jill drops to her knees and lets the gun go to press her hands against the hole against his chest. Warm, wet blood is oozing from between her fingertips and staining the front of his uniform. She presses harder, but it doesn't do anything to slow the hemorrhage.
"Take care of him, alright?"
He's gone before she has a chance to process his words. She's filled with a tumultuous cocktail of emotions—anger, sadness, fear, hatred—and looks up to witness Chris bury his knife in Wesker's side. She watches the blade disappear as he burrows it deep, down to the hilt, and she blinks away the tears that are starting to blur her vision.
Jill has seen death, but never quite like this. Her time with Delta was spent diffusing bombs, bypassing complex security, and rescuing hostages. Most of the deaths she encountered were those of the enemy and rarely had she been the one to shoot. She had seen a few nameless deaths and injuries, those of soldiers who were a little too reckless and ended up blowing off limbs, but never witnessed the fall of her own.
Tonight, half the men she knew had died.
She swallows thickly and wipes her blood-slicked hands off on the thighs of her pants. Chris and Wesker are throwing punches and elbows, moving further away from her as they tussle, and she reaches for her gun with trembling hands. She watches Chris slam Wesker against the console nearby and twist the knife. Wesker's gloved hand fumbles across the keys and grips a lever.
"Tell me, Chris," he spits his name like it tastes foul, "Do you ever tire of being such a failure?"
Jill grips the gun and stumbles to her feet as Wesker pulls the lever.
"Funny." Chris snorts in return as he rips the knife from Wesker's side. "It looks like you're the one at the disadvantage here, Captain."
Wesker's laugh is wet. Jill finds herself hoping that it's blood he's choking on. Why doesn't he seem to be fighting back?
"Quite the contrary. Try as you might, Redfield, but you cannot kill a god."
Chris pulls back and drives the knife downward with the apparent intention of driving it into Wesker's chest, but he throws up a gloved hand and grips his wrist with alarming ease. Wesker doesn't show the faintest hint of a struggle as Chris grunts, trying to force his way through Wesker's restraint.
"You've lost your fucking mind, Wesker!" He shouts. "A god? Really?"
Jill tries to muster up the courage to shoot. She takes a stance and aims in their direction. She's hesitant, doesn't want to hit Chris, doesn't want to miss again like she did before…
Wesker revealing, showing perfect, bright white teeth slick with blood.
"Did I stutter?"
The sound of glass cracking tears her attention away. Jill watches in pure terror as she sees it move. The creature—the massive, perfect creature that Wesker is so proud of—rams the thick glass with its claw. Shards of glass fly through the air as the fluid rapidly drains from the chamber, spilling out onto the floor.
Jill can't look away as she watches the massive heart on its chest quiver with its first beat. The powerful muscle recoils and expands, filling with blood as the monster steps forward with a loud, echoing step.
"Beautiful." Wesker whispers. "Absolutely magnificent."
The creature slowly turns towards Wesker, giving Jill ample view of the spidery purple veins visible through its paper white skin. It takes another step towards Wesker…and Chris.
"Chris!"
She screams his name so hard that it burns her throat. The creature pauses, its back now to her, and it looks over its shoulder.
"Are you afraid, Chris?" Wesker asks.
Jill sees they've separated. Chris is gripping his knife, back against the computers, as he stares the monster down.
"You should be." Wesker whispers. "Goodbye, Redfield."
Jill screams as the monster breaks into a sprint in their direction. She fires twice into its broad back as it raises its arm and…
She stands in utter confusion as she watches Wesker fly across the room and collide into the wall.
"Premature." He grunts, struggling to sit upright. "All thanks to you as usual, Redfield. Always ruining my fucking plans."
Jill doesn't see a way out of this. There's no way they're taking this down. She only has a few shots left and Chris has a fucking knife. Wesker grips his side as he struggles to stand.
She can't let Chris die. It's all she can think about as she takes a step back, bracing herself as she shouts at the creature. She can't let Chris die.
She doesn't know why she thinks of the freezer, but she does. Best case scenario, she can trap it long enough for them to get out. Worst case scenario, she dies and Chris has a chance, and that's good enough for her.
"You deal with Wesker!" She yells as she slowly steps backwards, holding the monster's attention.
"Jill, have you lost your fucking mind? You ca—"
The monster looks at Chris.
"Yes!" She screams, capturing its attention once more. "You said you won't die, remember?"
And she breaks into a sprint, passing through the automatic doors with the creature in pursuit.
"You first." Joseph insists. It's not as demanding as he'd like it to be, but it's not like holding Barry at gunpoint isn't painful for him. His fingers are still shaking as he holds the gun in Barry's direction. Has it really come to this?
Barry doesn't protest. As he descends, he advises them, "Don't open the doors on the way down the tunnel. We need to go to the very end."
"Why not?" Joseph inquires.
"There's a…" Barry seems to be struggling for words. "I don't know what else is in there. The lab is at the end."
"A lab…" Rebecca whispers under her breath. "That doesn't sound safe."
Joseph descends the ladder next, gun still clumsily trained on Barry as he makes his way down. He realizes he'd be a really bad criminal. Thank god he's one of the good guys.
"It's the easiest way out. There's a cable car that connects it to NEST. I think it's an underground station that we can use to get back above ground." He pulls out the PDA again and shows the map to Joseph. "Looks like we can just pass by NEST to get to a tram station just outside of the city."
As mad as he is at Barry for being a dirty traitor, he's grateful, too. Joseph's pretty sure there was no way in hell they'd make it out without Barry's map.
Richard struggles as he makes his way down and they wait for Rebecca to check his wounds.
The lab doesn't seem very clean, but he guesses it doesn't have to be when you're making disgusting monsters to sell on the black market or whatever the hell they were doing. It stinks, like blood and bleach and all kinds of nasty shit, and Joseph wrinkles his nose as they walk past a rotting corpse beside a door on their way to the staircase. White coat, not S.T.A.R.S.
Barry pauses to show him the map again.
"The corridor makes a big square." He gestures, tracing the shape with his index finger. "We want to get to this big elevator on the other side of the lab."
"What about Chris and Jill?"
Barry furrows his brow.
"They might have already taken it down. It's the only way out."
"Alright." He turns back to Rebecca and Richard. "You guys wait here. We'll make sure it's safe."
Joseph realizes he's forgotten to keep the gun on Barry, but Barry is already making his way down the stairs anyway. He awkwardly clears his throat and points it at Barry again as he follows him down the stairs. He'd definitely be the worst kidnapper ever.
The corridor is even dingier than the entrance to the lab. It would be a depressing place to work, Joseph thinks, as he takes in the dirty concrete walls and the squeaky, rusty fan that lazily spins above them. No wonder they could make all these gross monsters. They were probably dead inside from looking at this shitty lab every day.
Barry takes the first left and Joseph follows. Halfway down the hall, he hesitates.
"Do you hear that?"
Thump, thump, thump.
The dull sound starts to get louder.
Thumpthumpthumpthump.
"What the hell is that?"
He can hear panting. Joseph points the gun at the end of the hallway and waits. Do monsters breathe? He hears what sounds like boots hitting the ground and Jill comes into view, sprinting down the hallway.
"Jill!"
…and he doesn't even know what the fuck to call the thing that follows behind her.
"Oh holy shit, what the fuuu—"
"GO BACK UP THE STAIRS!"
Jill's screaming bloody murder to get them to move and they scramble out of the way. They wait halfway up the stairs, but she passes by.
"Where the fuck are you going?!" Joseph yells. "Are you fucking crazy?"
The monster comes to an abrupt halt and starts to pivot towards him at an eerily slow pace. Joseph aims in its direction.
"NO!" Jill's screaming again. "DON'T! It's a waste!"
It whips back around to face Jill.
"Chris is in the lab!" She yells and disappears around the corner again with the monster behind her.
For the first time in his life, Joseph is stunned into silence. He looks at Barry with a horrified expression.
"I don't know what that is." Barry tells him. "Honestly."
His thoughts are racing so fast that his brain hurts. He knows what he should do, but he doesn't want to but he has to because it's Jill and…
"Here."
Joseph shoves the gun into Barry's hand. It doesn't really matter if he can trust him or not because they're all dead regardless.
"Take them to Chris. I'm gonna…go help Jill."
"Alright."
Barry calls out to him as he walks away.
"Frost!"
His palms are sweating. He wipes them on his shirt and turns to Barry.
"Take care."
The way Barry says it makes it seem like he's going to die. Hell, he probably is. He's probably gonna fucking die. They're all probably gonna fucking die.
Everything hurts. It's like his body forgot about all his injuries until now. He's got aches and burns and throbbing pain all over and he flinches as he reaches up to adjust the sweaty bandana on his head. He's definitely gonna fucking die, but he can't just let Jill go get killed all by herself. Chris would definitely curse his grave for sure.
He shakes his head as he turns around the corner. It's not like Chris is gonna be able to curse his grave because they're all gonna fucking die, but at least Chris will know he died doing the right thing. He tried to save Jill. Well, really, he tried to save everybody. That's the best he could do. At least he tried.
He feels warm tears running down his cheeks. Is he afraid to die? He's not sure. He never really thought much about it before as stupid as that sounds. There's gotta be something after all this, right? Probably. It wouldn't make much sense if they existed for no reason.
He grips the cold, metal handle of the door ahead and sighs.
He doesn't know what happens after all this, but he's pretty sure he's about to find out.
"What a waste of talent," Wesker coughs, "For her to die for you."
He doesn't even fucking think about it. His fist is colliding with the side of Wesker's jaw and he watches him collapse to the ground. Chris gives him a hard kick in his side for good measure, making sure the steel toe of his boot comes in contact with one of the stab wounds he left him with. He does it again just to make sure the fucker's unconscious…or dead. It doesn't matter. He doesn't bother checking for a pulse.
He needs to get to Jill. As much as he wants to wring the fucker's neck, he needs to get to Jill. Chris does the most logical thing he can come up with in the moment and handcuffs Wesker to the closest desk leg.
As he turns to leave and the adrenaline wanes, he finally processes everything. Kevin is dead. Wesker shot Kevin and he's lying there in the doorway.
Chris kneels beside him. All of the color has drained from his skin and Chris knows the sight will come back to haunt him. He curses under his breath and lays a palm against Kevin's chest.
"I…"
He clenches his eyes shut as tightly as he can.
"I'm so fucking sorry."
He's furious. Wesker not only murdered him, but he took away his chance to grieve. As much as he wants to say his goodbyes, it's too late and he doesn't have time. Chris takes a moment to collect Kevin's badge, shoving it in his pocket as he hurries out the door.
He doesn't have time to think about it. He has to get to Jill. Chris can't even mourn his best fucking friend because the woman he loves is about to die.
His heart skips a beat at the thought. Is that right? Is love what he feels for Jill Valentine?
Fuck, he doesn't have time to think about that either. He just needs to get to her.
Jill doesn't know what she's doing, even as she asks herself a thousand times while running through the doors to the room where Chris nearly lost his life. She doesn't even know if she can lure it into the freezer or if the door will hold it. She doesn't even know if she'll be able to maneuver past it to lock it in the freezer.
She doesn't even know if she's going to survive, but she has to give it a shot.
Her lungs are burning and it feels like her heart is going to beat right out of her chest as she makes it to the room. She sees the icy fog in the doorway ahead and heads inside as she hears the monster burst through the door. She ducks, maneuvering below the bagged, frozen bodies stored inside and turns to move behind the shelf dividing the space in half.
The creature enters the threshold of the freezer and swipes with its claw, knocking a body out of the way. It crashes into the shelf and knocks it over, forcing Jill to drop to the ground and crawl under the space beneath it.
"Jill!"
She hears Joseph call and she yells back.
"The freezer! Get the freezer door!"
She hears it smashing the glass specimen jars and tossing bodies out of the way. She crawls as fast as she can, back towards the entrance of the freezer. She sees Joseph in the doorway, his eyes wide in shock, as she crawls through the opening at the bottom of the overturned shelf to get back to the other side. Joseph reaches out for her, yanking her wrist so hard it hurts, and helps hoist her to her feet. He slams the door shut, pressing all his weight against it, as he fumbles with the latches. She helps, hands cold and shaking, and hears the monster hit the door from the inside.
"I don't think this is gonna work…" Joseph frantically whispers.
"It won't," she hurriedly replies, "But hopefully it works long enough to get the hell out."
She reaches out to knock over a filing cabinet on the way out, throwing anything she can in its path to attempt to slow it down. They shut the doors behind them and hurry back in the direction of the lab. As they turn the corner, Chris is running up the stairs.
He seems surprised, but she supposes she would be too. There isn't time to explain so she doesn't.
"Turn around!"
He doesn't question it, but he gestures for them to go ahead and falls behind. He hears the monster coming, but he can't tell how close it is.
"The elevator!" Joseph wheezes. "It's…past the lab!"
Jill can hardly believe it when they make it. She stumbles in first, all but crashing into Barry, and Joseph slams into her from behind. Chris yells as Rebecca frantically presses buttons and the doors close at a pace that seems agonizingly slow.
They're all met with near silence. Jill leans against the back of the elevator, every inch of her slick with sweat, and she looks up at the ceiling, closing her eyes. The three of them are gasping for breath and as her heartbeat begins to slow, she looks over at Chris.
He smiles.
"I can't fucking believe we are alive." Joseph announces. "How are we alive?"
A breathy laugh escapes her.
"Who knows what's up ahead?" She asks, letting her head loll back and appreciating the fleeting moment of reprieve. She looks over at Chris and finds he's still watching her.
The doors open to reveal a platform. Joseph steps out first.
"What the fuck?"
They're surrounded by near darkness. A line of small fluorescent lights follow the rocky wall to their left and right. Jill peers over the fence at the edge of the platform and stares into the darkness below. The chill of the underground air is nice.
"I wonder how deep it goes." Rebecca whispers.
"It doesn't matter." Chris sharply says. "Let's go."
He gestures to the cable car ahead.
"We need to head east." Barry says, gesturing to their right.
"How do you know?"
Joseph sighs. "It's a long story. Let's just go."
The car sways slightly as they board it one by one. Joseph studies the control panel, presumably trying to figure out how to operate it, as they arrange themselves inside. Richard collapses onto one of the benches and Rebecca takes the space beside him. Barry takes the opposite seat, leaving room for one other.
Chris opts for the floor and looks up at her. He smiles and pats the space beside him. She finds that she's smiling back as she sits beside him. The cold metal floor is uncomfortable, but she's not sure that she'd have it any other way. The cable car lurches forward and Joseph lets out a triumphant cry. When he turns to the car, he gives Jill an odd look, and she points to the empty space beside Barry. Joseph wordlessly takes it.
The ride isn't particularly smooth, but it still feels like heaven. Jill tries to stay on guard, telling herself that anything could be waiting for them up ahead, but she can't help but feel relieved. Somehow, some way, they made it out of the mansion. She just wishes they'd all been so fortunate.
Joseph clears his throat.
"Did anyone…see Ryman?"
She feels Chris stiffen beside her. Jill doesn't want him to be the one who has to say it.
"Wesker…killed him." She solemnly says. "In the lab."
They're all quiet. The silence feels smothering.
"Dammit…"
Joseph sounds choked up. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.
"What about Speyer?"
Barry shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
"He's gone."
Joseph's head hangs low. She watches his shoulders tremble slightly. Jill thinks he's crying.
"The rest of Bravo are…also gone." Rebecca sniffles.
"Wesker?" Barry asks, voice laced with a curious hint of malice that doesn't go unnoticed on Jill's part.
Chris laughs bitterly.
"Dead or about to be."
He looks up at the ceiling and sighs, "And if Vickers is alive, I'll kill the shit myself."
Apparently, the tone in Barry's voice doesn't slip past Joseph, either. He looks anxious, leaning forward slightly with his knee bouncing up and down like he wants to say something.
"What is it, Joseph?" She tiredly asks.
He nudges Barry.
"So it was Wesker?"
Barry nods.
She doesn't have to inquire about it because Chris does it for her.
"What are you talking about?"
Barry's expression falls. He seems dejected.
"I'm so sorry," he chokes out, "Wesker threatened my family. He wanted me to help lead you through the mansion."
"Why?"
"It was all a set-up. He didn't give me all the details, but it seemed like a test for the creatures…to see how effective they were at combat."
Despite how exhausted she is in the moment, she still manages to feel some disgust. This was all a game to him?
"Wow." Joseph whispers. "That's…sick. Like a fucked up slasher movie or something."
"I don't understand." Rebecca shakes her head. "Why?"
"I don't know." Barry earnestly replies.
Jill leans her head back against the metal wall and looks up at the ceiling. She's too tired to start theorizing why. It's something she can deal with tomorrow.
The car passes another platform. The bright white bulkhead reads NEST in bold letters.
"I wonder what NEST is…" Rebecca mumbles. She gestures towards the bag on the ground beside her. "We grabbed as much as we could. I hope there's some kind of evidence in here."
Truthfully, Jill is too exhausted to care. All she can think about is a hot shower and a warm bed. Perhaps she'll have enough energy in the morning to seek vengeance. For now, she focuses on the warmth radiating off of Chris. He's quiet and stiff, but she finds herself leaning her head against his shoulder anyway. He instantly softens beneath her.
They stay like this for a while. She closes her eyes and momentarily drifts off. The car lurches again after some time, stirring her back to wakefulness, and she realizes Chris's hand is resting against her hip.
She doesn't realize she drifted off again until Chris is gently prodding her shoulder. She's confused for a moment as she lifts her head from his shoulder. When she remembers the circumstances of where she is, she wishes she hadn't.
"Come on." He says, offering her his hand to help her upright.
The sight of them is pathetic as they all limp off the car. They stand there at the dark station with no one else in sight.
"Where are we?" Rebecca asks.
"Just outside of the city." Barry answers, gesturing behind them. "Not too far. About a mile or two."
The faint glow of the oncoming sunrise is enough for Jill to make out the silhouette of buildings.
"We should go to the hospital." Rebecca advises. "You're all pretty wounded and…"
"I'm alright." Barry insists with a warm smile. "I want to check on the girls."
Rebecca nods in understanding. Chris looks at Jill. She shakes her head in protest.
"I need to go check on Claire." Chris says. "Let's just just meet back up at the station in the evening. We could all use a little time to…process."
No one protests and instead they quietly make their way to the city; battered, bruised, and forever changed.
He's aware of the fact that he's gripping Jill like he's afraid she's going to slip out of his grasp, but he doesn't care. Even as they stand in the shelter of the elevator at his apartment complex, Chris keeps an arm wrapped around her so she stays tucked into his side. If he had a choice, he's not sure he'd ever let her go. Not for a while, at least.
Chris doesn't think he's ever been so happy to be back at his shitty little apartment. He fishes through his pockets for his keys and curses.
"Fuck." He groans. "I left them at the station."
Much to his dismay, Jill slips out from beneath his arm and kneels to study the lock. She gives him a judgmental look as she slips a pick into the door and unlocks it without even watching.
"Might wanna up your security, officer." She teases with a tired smile.
He shrugs sheepishly. It's not like he has anything worth stealing, but maybe he'd get a deadbolt for Claire's sake.
Once they're inside, he closes the door quietly behind them. He knows Claire isn't awake yet, but he doesn't want to risk waking her. The barrage of questions she'd surely have just aren't something he wants to deal with. They slip out of their boots and dirty socks and he pauses at the sight of the blood dried up on the toe of his. It's Wesker's, he thinks. Good riddance, he wants to say, but the thought leaves a sour taste in his throat for reasons he can't explain.
He tries to ignore the anger that accompanies the memory. Chris rests a hand on Jill's shoulder and guides her down the hall. He reaches into the dark bathroom, flicks on the light, and directs her inside. He slips past her to turn on the shower, leaving his hand inside to test the water temperature as it slowly warms.
"Are you going to be alright?" He quietly asks.
Alone, he means, but he doesn't say it. Jill worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she stares in his direction, but not really at him. It's an expression that makes him nervous.
"Yeah."
That alone doesn't sound convincing, but then she finally looks at him with this pathetic, tired look, one that speaks the words that she doesn't have the courage to choke out: please stay. He hates how vulnerable she looks in that moment, standing in his ugly, off-white bathroom in her bloodied up clothes with that sad expression and those exhausted eyes. She seems impossibly small and he's met with this overwhelming, inexplicable urge to protect her even though he knows good and damn well that Jill Valentine doesn't need anyone to protect her.
But he wants to, so he tries.
Chris pulls her into a hug. He handles her like he's afraid she might break, palms lightly resting against her back so he can draw her to his chest. She leans into his touch and his hands slide down to the small of her waist so he can loop his arms around her and pull her closer. He briefly acknowledges the fact that she fits against him perfectly and it's something he'll think about later. For now, he just lets out a shuddering sigh as she rests her cheek against his chest and grasps fistfuls of his shirt.
He doesn't say anything because he isn't sure he needs to. They stay like that, holding each other, as the bathroom grows misty from the heat of the water. He moves a hand to the back of her head, slipping his fingers into her tangled, blood-matted hair, and holds her against his chest. He tries not to think about the shit they just went through and tries to commit this to memory instead.
After a while, he lets his hand slide down the back of her neck and along her back. He hesitates at the hem of her shirt, but she stays soft and pliant in his embrace. He slips his fingers beneath it, letting them ghost over the smooth skin of her lower back, and lifts the fabric until it's scrunched up around her waist.
She takes a small step back, allowing the slightest bit of space between them, and stares him in the eyes as she tiredly lifts her arms. Under any other circumstance, he might have found the gesture to be overwhelmingly sexy. Tonight, all he can think about is how they'll never be just Chris and Jill ever again, that things will never be the same as they were.
He gingerly takes off her blood-crusted shirt and drops it to the floor before tugging off his own and letting it pool onto the ground with hers. She's just standing there, looking at him with this blank, defeated expression that makes him want to burn the world to the ground. He hugs her again, nearly crushes her against his chest this time, because he wants to pretend that they don't share a horrible trauma that no one else could ever begin to understand.
"I'm sorry." He murmurs, face buried in the crown of her head. The faint, sour smell of her scent doesn't deter him.
Her nails are nearly digging into his bare back as she holds onto him.
"Me too." She mumbles, lips brushing against his chest.
He doesn't know what else to say. He's just sorry. So, so fucking sorry that it hurts.
Chris gently takes her shoulders in his hands and steps back to make space. He never drops her gaze as he lowers himself to his knees, letting his fingertips rest at her belt buckle.
"Is this alright?" He hoarsely asks.
She nods.
Chris undoes it patiently and carefully. He can feel her stare as he undoes the button of her pants and slowly pulls down the zipper. The weight of the holster forces the dark blue fabric to pool around her ankles and her gun hits the floor with a muffled thump.
He finds that his hand is big enough to envelop the circumference of her ankle with ease. He lifts one, helping her step out of her discarded cargos, and then the other. He shoves them aside with the rest of their ruined clothes and stands.
His own gun thumps against the floor as he discards his pants and kicks them into the pile. He lets his fingertips dip just beneath the band of her bra. A rust-colored line of dried blood runs down her neck and pools in the hollow of her clavicle. There's a bruise encompassing the circumference of her upper arm, one that blooms purple and red on her pale skin. He stops counting the wounds because his own already hurt enough tonight without knowing hers.
"Is this okay?"
She nods again.
He brushes his fingers over the soft edge of her panties and she nods. At some point, he recognizes that this isn't the way he should be seeing her naked for the first time. Fuck Wesker for taking this away from them along with everything else.
Once they're both stripped bare, he takes her hand in his. Her nails are broken and caked with dirt and blood.
"Come on." He gently says as he guides her to the shower. He steps in first, right beneath the downpour of water. It feels good, hot enough to sting his skin. He turns to her, water cascading down his back, and he gives the slightest tug on her hand to compel her to join him.
She does.
He envelops her in his embrace, holding her against his chest and cradling the back of her head in his damp hand. Chris closes his eyes, focusing on the feel of the water burning his back and the weight of her against him. It feels right, so right that he leans down to press a kiss to the crown of her head before slowly turning around.
The water's falling on her now, leaving her wet hair plastered against her skin. She doesn't react and instead keeps herself pressed against him with her arms wrapped around his core. He reaches for the closest bottle, squints as he tries to focus past his wet eyelashes to make out the print on it and ensure it's Claire's shampoo.
The scent of lavender fills the shower when he pours it into his open palm. It's subtle and feminine, so much like her, and he prompts her to turn so her back is to him. He rakes his fingers through her wet hair and lathers the soap into her scalp. Jill sighs and it makes him smile. If these fleeting seconds are the only relief he can give her, he's grateful for them.
He rinses the suds off his hands and lifts up the bath pouf sitting on the shelf nearby, but he hesitates. Is it too much? He isn't sure.
Jill doesn't move. Her eyes are fixed on the shower wall, staring but not quite seeing. She's worrying her lower lip between her teeth, the evidence that she's lost in thought. He can only imagine what she's thinking about and he wants to purge every single bit of it.
He's gentle about it. Chris washes away every speck of dirt, grime, and dried blood that he can find. He watches the rust-colored water circle the drain and naively hopes that perhaps Arklay is drowning with it.
Jill is pliant beneath his touch. She doesn't shrink away. There's no resistance when he places a warm palm on her shoulder and urges her to turn around so he can rinse the soap from her hair. He massages a clot of caked up blood out of the soft, wet tendrils.
The small shower is cozy and filled with clouds of steam. All he can hear is the sound of the water pelting the floor of the shower. It smells like blood, sweat, and lavender and he wonders if this will always remind him of Arklay.
He traces the outline of a blossoming bruise on her hip with the pad of his thumb. She cups the back of his hand with hers and her fingertips are warm and wet. She gingerly takes the pouf from him.
"Let me." She quietly says, voice nearly drowned out by the sound of the running water.
He nods.
She rinses it clean before pouring a generous helping of soap onto it. He watches the blood caked in the crevices of her nails melt away as she works it into a lather. The deft movement of her fingers is hypnotizing.
Jill stands on her tiptoes, palm braced against his chest as she starts at his shoulders. She scrubs in slow, small circles, covering his shoulders and upper chest with a layer of suds before she hesitates. She reaches up with her other hand and outlines the deep wound on his neck with her fingers.
"Not sure you want soap in that."
He cranes his neck towards the water and hisses as it comes into contact with the wound. Chris endures it for as long as he can, letting the water flush it out. When he turns back to Jill, she gives him a skeptical look, and it makes him grin like an idiot. Maybe they're not entirely broken.
She scrubs his skin raw in the way that he needs and takes the time to softly knead his sore back. Her fingers follow the curves and crevices of musculature and he's like putty in her hands, letting her touch and explore him as he revels in the feel of it.
When the water starts to run cold, he regrettably lets her stop. He reaches beyond the curtain to yank a towel off the rack and he dries her off before wrapping her in it. She does the same, peeking out to find another towel and carefully patting his skin dry before he wraps it around his waist. On their way out, he tosses their clothes into the trash.
The sun is up when they step out of the bathroom, bathing his bedroom in its golden rays. It's still early, too early for Claire to rise on her day off, and he's grateful for it. He shuts the door behind them and rifles through his dresser as Jill adjusts the blinds. She doesn't close them all the way, letting small slivers of light through, and he doesn't protest because maybe they could both use a night light tonight.
She slips into one of his shirts and, though it's not the time or place, it takes his breath away. Seeing her in his shirt does something to him that he can't explain. He takes it all in, the way the hem brushes against the middle of her toned thigh and how the fabric drapes over her curves in the best of ways.
He tears his attention away to get dressed. This really isn't what he imagined when he tried to picture having Jill fucking Valentine in his bed, but he decides he'll take what he can get because he realizes that having Jill Valentine in his life in any capacity is worth it.
She nestles into his bed like it's not the first time she's done it. Jill lays on her side, comforter pulled up to her chest, and she watches him with tired, heavy-lidded eyes. He smiles and so does she.
Chris climbs into bed with her like it's not the first time he's done it. He doesn't think twice as he wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her close. She lets him like it's something he's done a thousand times before and rests her head on his chest like it's meant to be there.
As drifts to sleep with his hand idly tracing shapes on her back, he thinks that maybe it is.