So my friend and I ended up really liking this film, though we both wish the love-triangle between Chris-Jill-Wesker was explored a little more. She asked me to write something for the movie and, well, it kinda spiraled out of control. *Shrug* Hope you enjoy!

Big thanks to my buddy CaChat for beta-ing this pet project of mine. You're the best, pal!

New Girl

(June 1996)

The file that came across S.T.A.R.S. Captain Albert Wesker's desk was that of a prominent young female officer, honestly too promising for a place as small as Raccoon City.

It told the story of one Jillian Sasha Valentine, born to a French immigrant father and Nigerian mother, who after a business trip to America, left her daughter in the States soon after giving birth. While there was no official juvenile record on the young woman, closed or otherwise, her father, Dick Valentine, had a rap sheet a mile long, and was currently serving a twenty -year prison sentence. Wesker doubted it was a coincidence that it was within months of the man's sentence that Valentine joined the military.

Once she joined though, it seemed like the woman found a straight shot to the top. On top of having the best marksmanship scores in her training unit, Valentine managed to attract the attention of recruiters for Delta Force. Even more surprising, she managed to not only survive but thrive in the six-month intensive Operator Training Course—one of the only women in the world to do so. Now, as Wesker flipped through the pages of performance reviews and recommendations, the words "rigorous work ethic," "resilience," "courage under fire," and "cool-head in dangerous situations," jumped out of him. There were just pages dripping with praise for Jill Valentine.

"Are you wondering why I chose to apply to RPD?"

Wesker jumped in his seat, knees knocking against the top of his too-small desk. He'd completely forgotten she was here!

"Sorry, zoned out for a second there," he said. "To be honest, yeah. With these accomplishments, I think you'd want to apply for somewhere a little less..."

"...Rural?"

"That's one way of putting it," Wesker replied, fighting back an amused snort.

Technically speaking, Raccoon City didn't even count as a city, as there were not enough people. If you asked him, this place was just a glorified mill town—just like the kind his dad and all the men in his family were born in, raised in, worked in, and died in. The military had let Wesker escape from that life, only to wash him up somewhere no different.

"To tell you the truth, I applied to the NYPD, the LAPD, and a bunch of other cities all over the country when I got out of the military, but none of them wanted me," she said.

"Why?" he asked, surprised. With her training, any SWAT team in the country should have been eager to snap her up.

Valentine looked away and shrugged, "They didn't want to take any chances on the daughter of a infamous criminal, even one with a squeaky clean record."

For the first time since Chief Irons brought her into the room, Wesker saw Valentine's cool, confident exterior slip. But before he could fumble out some awkward words of comfort, the mask was back up.

She leaned back in her chair and continued, "I was close to giving up and re-enlisting when I got a call offering me a position in S.T.A.R.S. At first, I thought it was a joke, but when some dude in a suit showed up with the offer letter, I thought, 'Hey, why not?' I didn't have anything better going on, and being part of an experimental police task force is as good of a way to make a living as any."

That made sense. That was more or less the same way Wesker had ended up here.

"Well, their loss is our gain," he said, standing up and offering his hand. "Welcome to S.T.A.R.S' ALPHA unit, Valentine."

"Call me Jill," the woman said with a smile, teeth bright white against dark skin, and that was enough for Wesker's ears to turn red and his chest to tighten.

'Damn, I do not get out enough,' he thought to himself as he swallowed hard against a dry mouth. "Welcome aboard, Jill."

He liked the way her name sounded on his lips.

The new girl was kinda crazy.

Within the first thirty-six hours of meeting his new partner, Chris had seen Jill outshoot every member of the unit, charm the pants off of Lieutenant Marvin Branagh, and pick the lock on a snack machine to free Enrico's stuck pizza pretzels. Now, in the gym, he was watching her beat Vickers' ass in a pull-up contest. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw he wasn't the only one who was watching.

"Hey, don't you two have workouts to be doing?" he barked at a pair of patrol officers.

One of them, Simmons, if Chris remembered right, stopped his gawking to sputter out, "We were just watching—"

"Yeah, yeah. Move along you two, you're acting like you haven't seen a woman before."

"Not one that looks like her," the second offer said under his breath, not even having the decency to tear his eyes away from the strip of exposed skin between Valentine's tank top and sweatpants. "Definitely not here."

This was true. The RPD was made up of forty members, not all of them police officers, and of that forty, there were only four women. The first was Melinda Dawn, who manned the phones. The second was frail old Gretchen Miller, who looked after their archives. Then there was Rebecca, the unofficial in-house medic who wasn't even old enough to drink yet. And, now, there was Jill.

"Get!" he snapped again, waving the two men away.

For a second, it looked like the two would argue, but when they caught Wesker glaring at them from across the gym, they scattered.

"You know, I don't need you to stand up for me."

Chris pulled his eyes away from his BLT —a hard task after a sixteen-hour shift— and blinked at the woman across the table from him. "Huh?"

"I can look after myself. I don't need anyone's protection."

The tired wheels of Chris' mind turned slowly and it took him a moment to realize what Jill was talking about. "I thought partners watched each other's backs."

Jill glared at him with those intense green eyes of hers. They'd been the first thing he noticed when they met, and even now, when they were looking at him with anger, Chris couldn't help but be amazed by the color.

He held up his hands in surrender, "But I'm sorry. I won't say anything next time."

"Good," she said, leaning back in the booth and crossing her arms. "Because I can handle myself. A couple of gawkers don't scare me. They're usually not even worth bothering with, and if they have enough balls to try something, I'm more than capable of dealing with it alone."

Chris let out a huff of laughter, "I don't doubt it. You remind me of my sister."

"You have a sister?" Jill asked, annoyance turning into curiosity.

Now it was Chris' turn to be uncomfortable. "Yeah... She doesn't live around here anymore, hasn't for a long time. She's like you though: tough as nails, determined to make her own way, and doesn't take nothin' from no one."

To be honest, Chris had no idea where Claire was living now. He hadn't thought to ask the last time she'd made her semi-annual, five-minute phone call. This time they'd managed to make it to the three-minute mark before the arguments started, and ending, as usual, with slammed phones. He'd managed to tell her that he might be getting a new partner soon, now that Barry was retiring to Florida with his family.

"I had to be in the army, no one would take me seriously otherwise," Jill said.

Chris was glad for the change of topic. "Yeah, I got hazed to hell and back during my time in the Air Force. I can only imagine it's worse when you're a..." He trailed off, realizing there was no good way for him to end that sentence.

"When you're a woman? Yeah, it sucked." Thankfully, Jill seemed more amused than offended. "But, hey, that's life. I've gotten used to it. That's why I've learned to establish dominance first. Prove to the macho assholes in the group that they can't push you, and you've already solved part of the problem. It's a preemptive strike."

"Shouldn't have to put up with it from your fellow officers," Chris said. "And I know you don't need our protection or anything like that, but I hope you'll trust me and the rest of us S.T.A.R.S guys to help you out. You're one of us now, and we look after our own."

"One of you, huh?" Jill asked, all her anger gone now. "I guess I'm still getting used to having someone in my corner, not since the military. Even then, it was such a sausage fest that I could never trust my squad mates weren't just being friendly to get laid. I could trust them to watch my back in a fire fight, but not with much else. "

"Well, I promise that you'll always be able to count on me to back you up," Chris said. Then half as a joke, he held out his pinkie. "Partners?"

The young woman's eyebrows shot straight up but she laughed and interlocked her pinkie with his. "Partners."

Chris liked the way that sounded.