Worry

(January, 1997)

Chris worried about Jill. It was only natural; they were partners, after all. But more than just worrying for Jill's physical safety, he'd become increasingly worried about every aspect of Jill's life.

He worried about whether she was sleeping enough.

He worried if she was eating well.

He worried that Jill might be concerned about her dad.

He worried that Jill hadn't made friends outside the station yet.

He worried if other officers had been treating Jill properly.

He worried about the cold and whether Jill still had trouble with it.

And, yeah, he knew that was stupid. Chris knew well and good that Jill was a grown woman more than capable of taking care of herself. Hell, Chris would be the first to admit that she was far more of a badass than him.

'Jill wouldn't appreciate me fussing over her,' he mused, glancing over at the bags of groceries in his passenger seat.

Three days ago, Jill and Chris had been called to deal with an oversized drunk harassing people outside of one of Umbrella's side offices. What started as a standard de-escalation situation had ended with Jill being thrown into the side of a car, busting her left shoulder and ribs up on the side view mirror and door handle. In the end, everything had technically been fine. Chris had been able to subdue the man and shove him securely into the back of their work car. After a night in the drunk tank, the still-aggravated man had been released.

Despite this, Jill's had been bruised so badly that Wesker had ordered her to take the rest of the week off to rest and recover. Jill had protested, of course, claiming that a couple of bruises weren't enough to put her down. Wesker had been firm though, and after Chris had agreed, the woman relented with only minimum grumbling. But even now, Chris worried for Jill, both for how bored the woman must be, and how little actual food he knew that she kept in the apartment.

Bag of groceries balanced in each of his arms, Chris made his way to Jill's apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. He knocked on the door, and yelled, "Jill, I come bearing gifts."

From inside, he heard Jill call out. "Door's unlocked."

"That's dangerous, you know," he said, locking the door behind him. "A cop should know better."

Jill rolled her eyes, looking up at him from her little blanket and pillow nest on the couch. "I thought you came to be the concerned and doting partner, not go all Mother Hen."

"Well, you're in luck. Tonight you're getting both."

"Not sure I'd call that luck."

"Quiet," Chris laughed, letting the groceries down on the counter. "Since I can't trust you not to exclusively survive on cheap Chinese take-out, Pop Tarts, and beer for the next few days. I took the liberty of picking up some supplies."

"Great, now my beer and leftover Chinese will have some company."

"You're going to be the death of me, Valentine." Chris pulled out the pack of fresh chicken and celery from the grocery bag. "How does homemade creamy chicken soup sound?"

"Chris," Jill sat up, her hair loose and messy. "You don't have to do this. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

With a sigh, Chris came to sit next to his partner on the couch. "Jill, I know better than anyone how tough you are. But the fact that you can kick my ass doesn't change the fact that I care about you. Maybe it makes me an idiot, but I like to take care of those who are important to me."

He put a hand on Jill's blanket-covered knee, giving it a firm squeeze. For a moment, silence fell over them, tense but not uncomfortable. Chris was unable to look away from the woman's perfect lips, unconsciously licking his own.

But when Jill went to say something, Chris cut her off. Standing up and returning to the pile of groceries, he called over his shoulder. "So you're getting homemade soup, and you'll like it! Do I make myself clear?"

Jill just tilted her head back and laughed. "Sir, yes, sir!"

At her words, Chris needed to shift to relieve the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans. "Where's your cutting board?"

"Bottom cabinet, left of the stove."

"Thanks."

The two lapsed into another silence, this one the kind of companionable quiet that occurs when two people work on separate tasks in the same space. Chris busied himself chopping vegetables, cutting chicken into bite-sized pieces, and making a good, flavorful broth. In the background, he could hear the click-click-click of Jill's knitting needles tapping together over the low drone of the TV. The entire situation struck Chris as incredibly domestic. His parents had probably played through this scene many times before... before the accident.

'Careful there, Redfield. ' Chris warned himself, ' Don't go too far ahead of yourself. For all he'd come to terms with his less-than-platonic feelings for his partner, it was also something he didn't let himself dwell as often as he could. After all, that was just self-imposed torture.

"Okay, we just have to leave this going for twenty minutes, and it'll be done," he said, adding one last dash of pepper to the soup before covering the pot with its lid. I also brought some fresh bread and a cheesecake for dessert."

"You spoil me. You're staying for dinner, right?"

"If you'll have me," Chris shrugged, doing his best not to let it show how pleased he was. "Yeah, well, I always liked cooking but don't have anyone to cook for so I tend to stick to the simpler stuff. Honestly, this all was more for my benefit."

"Oh, I see how it is now. You're taking advantage of me!"

Chris choked at those words, something Jill thankfully didn't notice. Instead, she sat up and patted the couch beside her. "C'mon. Since we've got some time until dinner is ready, I want you to sit with me."

Not one to argue with the opportunity to be close to Jill, Chris returned to the couch. Jill shuffled her blankets and the scarf she was working on until a throw covered both of their laps. Chris felt his heart speed up at the feeling of Jill's thigh pressed against his own.

'The couch is small and drafty in here,' he told himself. 'It doesn't mean anything.'

All the mental scolding went out the window when Jill scooted closer until she was completely pressed against his side. But it didn't stop there. Jill leaned her head against his shoulder, nuzzling against the soft cotton of his shirt. His heart thoroughly going wild now, Chris swallowed hard, and after a moment, decided to risk wrapping his arm around her waist. He made sure to keep his hand high enough to stay appropriate, and to not squeeze in any way

"Thanks for doing this, Chris," Jill said suddenly, her voice low and soft. He could feel her warm breath against his ear, and it made him shiver. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"And you'll never have to, if I have anything to say about it," Chris replied. He gave Jill a quirky grin, "I wouldn't be a very good partner if I did, now would I?"

Jill said nothing, instead pulling back to study his face with a blank expression. After a moment, the woman let out a quiet chuckle before dropping her head back on Chris' shoulder.

'I could get used to this,' Chris thought to himself, a vague memory of him and Claire curled up with their parents watching TV on the couch after dinner. He sighed and let himself relax into the couch, eyes glued on the screen.

"Alright, what are we watching?"

"Full Body Massage. It has Mimi Rogers playing this successful but world-weary art dealer who finds herself falling for her masseuse."

"Hmmm. That sounds... interesting."

"Oh, you'll like it. Trust me!"

Raccoon City, as a general rule, didn't get many visitors. It wasn't exactly a hub of tourism, except for the outdoorsy people who came to hike or camp in the nearby Arklay Mountains. But they tended to only show up for a couple of weeks during the late summer to early fall. Other than them, the only outsiders they got were visiting Umbrella Employees, usually from foreign divisions. These strangers would arrive in expensive, shiny cars with slick suits that were ill-suited for the wild weather of a mountainous Pennsylvania city.

And Wesker hated them.

"Excuse me, miss, I vas hoping you'd help me find my vay to the hotel."

Wesker rolled his eyes so hard that he was pretty sure they nearly fell out of his skull. Richard snickered, leaning over from the next bar stool to whisper, "Excuse me, miss, but I vant to suck your blood."

Biting down on his knuckles to keep from absolutely losing it, Wesker reached over to punch Richard on the arm. "Shut it! Just because we aren't on duty doesn't mean we're not still representing the RPD."

"Well, Jill looks like she is about to represent the angry side of the RPD if that guy doesn't back off," Richard said, leaning to the side to get a better view of the scene playing out before them.

"There are only two hotels in this entire city. And I'm pretty sure you—" Jill gave a pointed look to the man's... everything. Wesker knew nothing about fancy clothes, but even he could tell this guy made more money in a day than he did in a year. "—aren't staying at a $40/per night motel. So that means you're staying at Aggies' Bed 'n' Breakfast, which is three blocks down the road and to the left."

The man smiled, his teeth so white and pronounced that Wesker momentarily considered that Richard might have been onto something with the whole Dracula thing. Umbrella did develop plenty of medicine to treat blood disorders, after all. That semi-amusing train of thought was swiftly derailed when the stranger put his hand on Jill's arm.

"Surely you vouldn't mind accompanying me? I've heard much about so-called American Small-Town hospitalities."

Jill's eyes narrowed. That act alone to put Wesker on edge. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Richard also straighten up, alert and ready to protect one of their own.

The S.T.A.R.S Captain sized up this man like he would a perp or enemy combatant; he was tall enough, probably a smidge above six feet, and fit in that 'I go to the gym six times a week and run on the treadmill like a hamster,' kind of way. However, Wesker highly doubted that this guy had ever been in a fight or actually had to use those muscles for anything aside from appearances before.

"No thanks, not interested," Jill said, her voice sharper now. Colder and more stern. She turned to walk away, only for the man to tighten his grip on her arm.

"I insist."

Wesker was on his feet so quickly that he almost tripped getting out from under the diner's counter. Even then, he was by Jill's side in an instant, Richard hovering not far behind.

"Hey there, Jill," he said, standing perhaps closer than was typically considered proper. He drew himself up, puffing out his own muscular chest. Jill would surely tease him for the macho act later on, but for now, Wesker relished the way the stranger immediately backed off. "Who is this?"

Jill glanced up at him. Where there was once annoyance and caution, there was now amusement. "Oh, no one special. Just another visiting Umbrella guy."

"Is that right?" Wesker asked, all fake cheer and smiles. "Well then, let me welcome you to our little city. Now, did I overhear that you're having a hard time finding your hotel? Maybe I can help you with that."

"N-no, that isn't necessary."

Wesker felt himself smile at the slight stutter in the man's voice as he looked down at him. At 6'5'' and a frame built of solid combat muscle, Wesker knew he was intimidating. He'd used that fact to his advantage many times before, both in the army and as a cop. And now, when he could use it to put the sleaze harassing his gir— Jill in his place.

"No, no, I insist. It is my duty as a decorated member of the RPD to help everyone in Raccoon City, even the visitors."

The stranger shifted uncomfortably. "Oh, so you're a police officer?"

"Oh, more than that, the Big Guy here—'' Jill slapped Wesker's chest, "—is the captain of our elite S.T.A.R.S Unit. You may have heard of it, considering Umbrella was always the RPD's biggest supporters."

"Vell, I... suppose it rings a bell."

"Good," Wesker said, "because Officer Valentine—" he wrapped an arm around Jill's shoulder, gesturing to her with his free hand "—is one of our most valuable members."

He couldn't lie, it felt good to see how pale the man went under the olive parlor of his skin.

"In fact, we really should be getting back to the station," he continued, pretending to check his wristwatch. "But I can still call someone to escort you to your hotel if you'd like."

The man waved Wesker off. "No. Thank you for the offer but I need to get on my vay."

With that, he hurried out of the diner. When he was fully gone, Jill laughed, craning her head back to look up at Wesker and roll her eyes. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"Scaring off some rich douche? You bet your ass I enjoyed it!"

That wasn't what Jill had been talking about, they both knew it. Richard also knew it, but unlike Wesker, he had no problem poking at the unspoken elephant in the room.

"Don't play dumb, Wesker. You like playing the white knight," Richard snorted.

"What, you don't think I suit the role?" he asked, playing along. 'Oh, you'll pay for that one tomorrow during sparring, Aiken.'

Jill patted the arm still wrapped around her. "There, there. We all know you have the soul of a hero, Wesker. It's just that these biceps of yours are too big to ever fit into a suit of armor."

That sounded enough like a compliment, enough like flirting, that Wesker found himself perking up. The ugly twist in his gut that appeared when the stranger started flirting with Jill finally dissipated. Of course, Richard decided to speak up again before he could respond.

"Well, if Wesker is your Knight in Shining Armor, then Chris is Prince Charming. Now, let's get out of here before we become a bigger sideshow than we already are," he said, nodding towards the door.

Wesker glanced around. It was late enough that the diner was empty, aside from some other officers and station workers who'd just gotten off for the day. Hell, he honestly suspected that the owner kept the place open this late because it was the closest place to eat to the station, and police officers always needed coffee. Still, everyone who was there was currently staring.

He scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, it's time to go."

"Great, it's long past bedtime for me."

They headed for the door, and Wesker, for reasons he honestly couldn't explain, didn't drop his arm. Instead, he pulled her even closer.

He told himself that it was just a joke. Or that it was for Jill's own benefit. After all, the night outside was frigid and windy, and Jill still got cold so easily, and Wesker was just trying to shield her from some of it.

'And besides, she's not pushing me away,' Wesker told himself as the diner door closed behind them, the light ringing of the doorbell echoing into the night. 'Jill must not mind. Maybe she even likes it.'

Richard waved goodbye, heading for his jeep. He had the luck of being at the end of his shift; he got to go home for twelve hours, to sleep, eat, and spend some time with his girlfriend. Wesker and Jill, however, got to go back to the station to finish their overnight shift.

'Well, at least Chris gets to suffer with us. I wonder if he's done helping Rebecca yet?'

Oh well, for all that Wesker enjoyed spending time with Chris —the man was a long-time friend, after all— he'd never complain about getting time with Jill without her partner.

"You know, I could have handled that guy myself," Jill said after a moment.

Wesker shrugged the best he could, all things considered. "I know. However, the inquiry because you broke his fingers would've been a hassle. That doesn't mean I don't worry about you, though."

Jill gave a thoughtful hum. "I wonder why that keeps happening. Do I keep doing something or..."

She said that mostly to herself, eyes unfocused they often became when someone was deep in thought.

"It's just you, Jill," Wesker replied anyway. His words startled Jill, who gave him a confused look. They surprised Wesker as well, but he swallowed hard and continued. "Just by being you, you make me want to protect you. And I know you don't really need it, but I worry about your safety all the same."

For a long time, Jill said nothing. The silence went on so long that Wesker felt his neck and ear go red and he stammered, "I know, I know. It's stupid macho cr—"

Whatever Wesker was about to say was ripped from his mind when Jill pressed a quick kiss on his cheek.