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Her body shivered in pain as she jerked up, cotton tank top and shorts stuck to her slick skin as she stared at the wall. Her chest rose and fell, lungs heaving as panic overcame her. The memory of her raid with Chris at the Spencer Estate haunted her, fear clawing at her senses like a feral cat. She was shaking violently, hands fisting her bedsheets, trying to find a grip on reality— if she could even manage that. The sound of thunder outside made the hairs on her skin rise, head snapping towards her windowsill, eyes turning over the aperture and searching for something.
Someone.
It was raining. The wind howled and cried pleas of desperation and anguish, beating against her apartment complex as if it were to blame for its agony. The thunder and lightning reflected its anger just as it did the day she and Chris had finally confronted their beloved STARS leader. The look in Chris’s eyes as he faded away tore her apart and horror struck her like steel against an anvil. All she could do was react. She couldn’t lose him, yet she hadn’t stopped to think that she might lose herself. Whether that be by becoming a slave or in a body bag.
The sound of wind rapping against her window did everything but allow her to breathe. Then she was back, her paralyzed body finally moving as she swung her legs over the edge of her bed and stood. She touched herself, hands wandering over her torso and hair, fingers digging into her skin as if she were trying to wipe away the disgust that enveloped her— as if it were a physical thing. Her hands finally landed on her chest, fingertips touching the razed flesh of the scar that never healed properly.
She wished it had. She wished it had disappeared completely and left her like a bad dream. But it was still there, a harrowing reminder of everything she had gone through. She had lost herself and she was to blame for her misfortune. Going for her phone, she dialed Chris’s number, her breathing uneven as she listened to the ringtone. Her eyesight was foggy, eyes darting around the room, trying to focus on something— anything to keep her calm.
Fear welled in her as the phone rang. It rang and rang and the seconds seemed to turn to minutes as she waited for Chris to pick up. It hurt her to be so worried about him. She just needed to know he was okay. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick—
Click.
“Jill…?” His voice was hoarse and gruff; clearly beaten which made her realize that she hadn’t even given checking the time a second thought. Looking at the clock, her breath hitched, guilt creeping up her spine as she listened to Chris’s voice on the other end of the line. It was 1:15 am. “Jill… What's wrong? Are you okay?” He asked, tone perking up as he sat up in bed, her ears picking up the sound of sheets rustling, the sound of a belt buckle and heavy footsteps mixing with it. She took a breath, clearing her throat.
”Yeah… I’m okay, sorry I called you so late.” She whispered, voice slightly croaky. Her eyes wandered to the clock to read the time again. Shit. She felt horrible. “Chris?” Jill said softly, the sound of his slightly labored breathing concerning her further.
“Yeah, I’m still here.” He finally said. “Are you alright?” He echoed.
”Yeah… I’m fine.” She said softly. “It’s late, I really shouldn’t be bothering you.”
Chris was silent, his soft breaths all Jill could hear as she waited for his response.
”I’ll be there soon.” He said before hanging up. Jill could tell that he was being earnest, heart thrumming against her ribcage like a bird in a cage. She took the time to process it all and, as best as she could, tried to calm herself as the roaring thunder outside scared her pale white. She fought tyrants for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t she handle a little bit of stormy weather?
Minutes passed by before there was a light knock against her front door; Jill quickly rose and made her way to the entrance of her home. Opening the door, Chris stood looking down at her with a soft expression. She had known Chris for a long time, yet she hadn’t known him for looking at others the way he looked at her. His eyes, which had seen far too much in their world, were hard and unforgiving and looked at it with scrutiny. Yet, when their gaze met, they always seemed to quiet and really look at her. She felt seen; completely and utterly transparent and as unnerving as it was to be so clear, she found comfort in his stare.
She stepped to the side to let the mountain of a man into her home, shutting the door behind him as he shook out the heavy, black jacket from the dewy droplets that were scattered on its material, hanging it on the rack. She idled by, crossing her arms over her chest, holding herself as he turned to look at her. Again, his gaze was soft and sincere, hands reaching forward to gently caress her arm.
”You’re freezing… What's wrong? Are you alright?” He asked for the third time, looking her over like she was some wounded animal. She swatted at his hands and sighed running her fingers through her hair.
”I told you Chris, I’m okay—“
”You don’t sound okay.” He interrupted.
“I am—“
“Then why did you call me?” He asked. That question stunted her, her lips parting as she tried to think of a reason. The horrible thing was that she didn’t know why she had called him. To make sure you were okay. That wasn’t her job. But the anxiety felt like acid in her stomach and it was killing her from the inside. To make sure you were okay… She knew why, she was just lying to herself. Racking her brain for a response, her body shuddered as she looked at him. He was quiet, waiting patiently for her to answer and, of course, her walls lowered. He had a knack for making her feel so vulnerable.
”I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.” She finally said.
Chris could see that Jill was struggling; struggling to assimilate herself back into reality and fall back into a normal routine. Since the Spencer Estate, he felt that she was closing herself off. She seemed distant, not cold and uncalculated, rather, wary . He remembered fearing the day he would die while on the field and leaving her behind, but he never considered the possibility that he could have lost her instead.Yet, even though she was there, he felt as if he were losing her again. Reaching forward, he took her hand in his and gingerly lifted it to his face, her fingers instinctively resting against his cheek.
”I’m okay…” he started, “I’m here.”
Her breathing was slightly uneven as her hand brushed his face gently, taking in the feeling of his skin against hers. Her hand tingled as she smoothed her palm out on his jawline, running it up to cup the side of his face. He was so warm compared to her icy touch, his hand resting over hers to confirm that he was, in fact, still alive and in front of her. He was okay. That was all she needed to know.
”See?” He breathed, taking a step forward. Then there was that look again; the one that made her feel like jelly and brought solace to her mind. She nodded, swallowing thickly.
”I’m sorry.” She said, hand faltering slightly. “I just… I had a nightmare. The Spencer Estate, the rain, Wesker— “ she stopped talking when he ran his hand up her forearm and to her shoulder, the feeling leaving goosebumps in its wake. He didn’t say anything as he looked at her, ears open and dedicated to listening to her. She pitied herself for being so weak, but her weakness didn’t seem to bother him so much.
“I thought you were going to die, Chris…” she exhaled, her voice cracking. “I panicked and I— God, I left you. It was all I could think of doing…” She said, gasping softly as the hand against her shoulder pulled her into a hug. His large frame caged her in but it didn’t feel suffocating. She didn’t feel cold or scared, she felt so safe in his arms. Wrapping her own around his torso, she squeezed him and held him as if she were on the verge of death. “I’m so sorry…” she said, unable to think of all the pain she brought upon him because of her impulsive actions.
“It’s not your fault, Jill.” He said finally, running his hand through her hair in a soothing manner. His eyes hardened slightly as he stared at the wall, all of her feelings pouring out into their embrace. They hugged often, but at times like this, he felt it wasn’t often enough. How many hugs had he given her before he lost her? He remembered counting the days and wishing she would walk through the door again— wishing she were there for him to hold safely in his arms. He regretted not having held her enough times throughout their relationship. At times, he felt that it was the root of the problem: their relationship that was. His feelings for her which complicated it all.
She shivered, leaning into his warmth and closing her eyes. There were times when she wondered if he ever loved her the way she loved him. She knew he loved her as a friend and cared for her deeply, but when they were holding each other so intimately, she couldn’t help but hope that there was more. When it came to confronting her feelings, she was horrible at it. Everyone knew they were a great team and questions had been raised about their relationship. As often as she would brush it off, it was obvious: they were akin to a couple.
”You know I can’t bear to lose you…” she said. He tensed, his silence looming over her and making her heart beat against her ribcage. He pulled away from her, looking down at her softly, his gaze understanding and empathetic.
“You won’t.” He whispered, “Not anytime soon.” He wished he could promise her that she wouldn’t. In their line of work, there wasn’t a guarantee that he would survive every mission or that she would too. He could only hope that their luck wouldn’t run out. Even if it did, he wanted to make the most of the time he had with her, large hands gently rubbing her back to soothe her to the best of his abilities. Little did he know that the sound of his voice was enough to console her.
”I might not be able to promise you that I’ll always come back,” he whispered, his eyes darting around the room as he thought of his next words. He wanted her to know how important she was to him, even if she already knew it, as their time was limited. And as a hug is sacred, so were his words. “But I’ll always try my damn hardest to get back to you. Even if it does kill me, I’ll always try.” He wasn’t good with words, but it was enough to confirm her suspicions, even though they weren’t unclear, it was a simple green light. She knew he loved her, and that was enough.
Pulling away slightly, she looked up at him, her eyes slightly red from her tears, hands soft against his rough skin as she cupped his face gently. His eyes; soft and kind, cradled her figure in the warmest embrace, focused and alive.
”Stay? Here, with me?” She asked him, though worried he would say no. It wasn’t the first time he had stayed with her in the same apartment, their STARS days leaving them alone and working together on paperwork and reports with little time to head to their own homes. So, whoever’s house they had been in at that time, they stayed and went to work together in the morning. This… Well, it wasn’t the past— it was different now that paperwork and the common complaints of Wesker’s supervising technique were no longer around.
”Okay.” He said, expectantly. He had never said no in the past, and it didn’t seem as if he was going to start anytime soon. She didn’t know if it was too bold to act the way she did, but she was just barely beginning to register the pure affection she had for him, and the adoration he held for her for the past thirteen years. So, hesitantly, she pulled him in the direction of her bedroom, still worried her subtlety wasn’t as subtle as she would have liked.
He didn’t say anything as he followed her, instead closing the door behind her and letting her situate herself on her bed. He seemed to get the memo as he joined her, not in a sensual manner but in a comforting one; to be a crutch for her and let her hold onto him for support for as long as she needed. They laid side by side, shoulder to shoulder with her head resting on him— similar to how they had on the helicopter ride back home after they’d escaped the Arklay mountains.
It was nostalgic, though bittersweet and painful, she relished in the warmth it brought to her chest as they laid in comfortable silence. Until she spoke.
”Thank you, Chris…” she whispered, “for not giving up on me.” Truly, she was grateful that he still chose to stay by her side through it all. She was broken and scattered all along the floor like shattered glass, yet he picked each piece up, unafraid of being cut or hurt. How he loved her still, even when she was a mess, made her feel safe. Nurtured. She pivoted her body, allowing his arms to wrap around her as he held her tight.
“I took on missions…” he said softly. She lifted her head, looking at him with slight confusion.
“Missions?” She parroted.
“When,” he cleared his throat, “when you went missing, I took on as many assignments as I could. I…I hoped I could find anything— a clue to where you went.” He admitted. “I never thought you were dead.”
Her silence as she processed his confession made him nervous, his body shifting again as he turned away from her.
“I— I just, I didn’t want to believe—”
Her movement was quick and firm, and she may have been a bit presumptuous, but she was gentle all at once as she rolled her body, cupping his face and turning it to face her. Her lips molded to his, kissing him earnestly. His hand cradled her jaw as she moved, throwing her leg over his waist and planting herself on his lap, curling over him as he laid on his back. He held her, still embracing her affectionately as she kissed his lips until they were swollen.
Thirteen years. Thirteen years of chiding herself and her feelings for this man, dissolved with this simple ministration. His own reservations seemingly dissipated as well, her soft blue eyes looking into his as she pulled away and breathed. Words were trivial and mundane now, as all they could see and feel was each other’s touch and the love they had for one another.
She rested her cheek against his temple, cradling his head in her hands as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, gently kissing and marring the soft skin beneath his lips. One hand had wrapped around her waist while the other ran along her back. The stubble on his face tickled her as he moved from the apex of her shoulder and neck to the center of her throat.
“Chris…” she breathed, a soft sigh that sent a shock through his system. Hearing her call his name in such a tender way was riveting and welcoming, his grip on her hips tightening as he continued to mark what little skin was available to him. She was far from inviolate, yet he held her and stayed by her side through it all. She slid her hands over the expanse of his chest, his own hiking her shirt up her torso, skin soft and milky beneath the fabric. She backed away, and while a look of concern washed over his features, his worries dissipated as she lifted the hem of her top and pulled it over her head, discarding the article of clothing on the floor.
He did the rest as his hands snaked their way towards the back of her bra, unhooking it with ease. His gentle ministrations to her neck came to a halt when he met her chest, lips ghosting over the scar she had from the device Wesker used to control her. Her breath hitched as she watched him, carefully gauging his reaction and studying his expression. Her heart beat violently inside of her chest, the memory of how she had hurt him while under Albert’s command rushing back to her the longer he stayed quiet. The straps of her bra fell slack against her shoulders as he gently pulled it off, leaving it to the side and looking up at her with affection.
”What’s wrong…?” She asked, holding his face in her hands. His own came to rest on her hips, thumbs tracing soothing lines against her skin.
”Nothing…” he whispers, looking at her with grace, “you’re beautiful, Jill.” He says, and her heart squeezes in her chest. There are no signs of apathy in his tone or in his gaze; total sincerity lying beneath those words. She should have expected it— the fact that, despite it all, he would never look at her differently. She leans down and kisses him, fervently, her hands clawing at his shirt in an effort to pull it off, as if it could permeate through his body with a simple tug. Sensing how eager she was, he mimicked her previous action and pulled it over his shoulders, his skin hot to the touch as her bare chest met his.
“Flattery, Redfield? That’s unlike you…” she breathes out, voice airy as he kisses a particularly sensitive spot near her clavicle. She can feel him smile against her skin, his head dipping down to kiss her breasts. She tipped her head back, closing her eyes as his mouth wrapped around a nipple, tongue massaging her with ease. She runs her fingers through his hair, grinding down on him. She could feel him through his jeans, a grunt coming from his throat as she rolled her hips against his. His off hand cupped her unattended breast, tongue smoothing over the other. She shivered, her hands eager to unzip his jeans.
Dipping her hand into his waistband, she gently strokes him, rolling him in her hand. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, hissing at the feeling. Craning her neck, she kissed down his throat and chest in a motion that made it seem she’s going for his groin. He stops her, and before she can ask him what’s wrong, she’s on her back and he’s on top of her, nestling between her legs as he lays down. She’s confused, looking into his eyes with curiosity. He’s holding her, his body weight pressing her down against the bed in an oddly comforting way.
”Chris?” She whispered, holding his face. The doubts come back and she can’t help but wonder why he chose her— why he chose to love her, and the question slips out: “Why me?” What comes across his face breaks her heart, and she realizes that the question is stupid. Why her? She had been his partner since she had known him, and he put his full trust in her as she did with him. ‘Don’t you trust your partner?’ She did, and she knew that he did too. He lifts himself off of her, and for a split second, the absence of his warmth disappoints her, but he grips her hips and gives her a sincere look.
”Jill… I’m not good with words, but you’ve always been important to me.” He said, pulling at her shorts. “You deserve better… but I want to show you how much I love you.”
It leaves her breathless, how he thinks he hasn’t shown her enough for her to understand that he cares about her; loves her. She only nods and watches as he slides his hands along her hips, pulling her shorts down along with her underwear. He curls over her, kissing down her neck and between the valley of her breasts, slowly making his way between the apex of her thighs. She tenses, but as he kisses her inner thigh, her body melts into the mattress, hands coming to tangle her fingers into his short hair.
What comes next is a surge of pleasure, his tongue running up her cunt leisurely, meeting her clit and pressing flat against it to allow her to grind her hips against the muscle. Her eyes flutter closed, and she moans, mouth falling agape as he works at her pussy with his tongue. “Ah— Chris .” She calls, breathless and fevered, dripping with desire and need. His arms snake around her thighs, one hand splayed flat against her belly to keep her still.
He closes his own eyes, jaw moving in tandem with each roll of her hip, soaking in the sound of her moans and whines as he eats her out. She can feel how her lower stomach tightens, how sensitive she’s become to every flick of the tongue and suck to her clit. Biting her bottom lip, she grinds against him, chasing the orgasm that had begun to build between her legs. She calls his name, back arching up despite his effort to keep her grounded, and all he can do is rut against the mattress to ease the aching in his cock.
“Chris….” She breathes, keening as he removes a hand from around her thigh and dips his fingers into her cunt, curling them upwards and striking her system with a wave of pleasure that sends her over the edge. With her head thrown back, she pulses, a short babble of his name and other profanities spilling from her lush lips as her orgasm rocks through her body. She quivers, tense under his hold, and his tongue continues to tease her, easing her through her release. She sinks back into her bed, soft moans and light sighs sounding from her throat.
He hums and it makes her shiver, mouth moving away from her and finding purchase against her inner thigh. She sighs, watching as he sits up, her pupils are blown out, dark and lustful as a soft red paints her cheeks. He pulls his shirt off and backs away, kicking his jeans off before discarding the articles of clothing to mix with hers. They could sort out which belonged to who in the morning. As of now, all she wanted was him, and he was going to give himself to her.
“Condoms…” she said, voice light. She pointed at her dresser— specifically her underwear drawer, and he moved quickly, fishing out a metallic packet and ripping it open. His appetency made her chest swell, watching as he rolled the rubber over his cock, pulling her onto his lap and aligning himself to her cunt. He held her, cradling her gently as he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth and cheek, temple against hers as she slowly sank down on him. Her hands shot up to his shoulders, jaw clenched as he bottomed out, soft moans coming from the both of them.
“I’ve got you…” he says, sweetly; softly. She nods, and he takes it as a sign to start moving. It’s sloppy at first, but they eventually find a rhythm, and he’s deep inside of her, their steady stream of moans filling her cold, quiet room. She squeezes him and beckons him to fuck her faster— harder . She ground her hips against his, using his shoulders as a platform, supporting her weight as he watched her ride him.
“Chris—” The sound that came from her was close to a sob, skin hot to the touch. “Ah…” she bit into her lip throwing her head back, her forehead covered in a thin veil of sweat. His own skin mirrored hers, hips rutting into her. He slowed his pace, looking into her eyes with as much love as he had for all the years he had known her. Jill Valentine. His best friend; his partner— his everything . She cups his face and he leans into her touch, craving nothing more than her devotion, for he had given his to her.
As ecstasy flowed through her, she looked at him. Really looked at him. With a shattering breath, her body quaked in his arms, tears spilling down her cheeks as she let out quiet sobs. He held her, reaching up to wipe the tears from her face as they ran hot down her cheeks. He follows shortly after, pressing his forehead against her collarbone as she rides him through his own orgasm. She holds his head in her arms, whispering soft, sweet nothings into his ear.
“I’ve got you…” she echoes his words back at him, shivering as he presses soft kisses to the skin available to him. He holds her as he stands, pulling out and carrying her to her side of the bed, gently laying her down. When he leaves, a sense of dread fills her, worried that he would leave, but her fears are quelled as he comes back, damp towel in hand to use to clean up. He’s slow and gentle, and once he’s done she finds herself pulling him into the bed with her. He doesn’t protest, settling beside her and pulling her into a warm hug.
“I’m here…” he whispers in her ear. His voice is soothing and suddenly, the rain outside doesn’t sound so angry anymore— it’s rage calming along with her dying anxiety. “I love you…” he says, and it’s like a prayer. She snakes her arms around his torso, pressing her body against his to feel his warmth, and she smiles to herself.
“I love you too.”