#let jill chris rebecca and barry take down umbrella

[nightsprung]

jill has seen a lot in her 24 years of life leading up to the mansion incident; she absolutely saw death in combat firsthand while in the army, and with her employment in the raccoon police department, has been part of countless dangerous operations, from drug raids to murder investigations and everything in-between. she’s seen so much violence and while she’s not desensitized to it, she knows how to not let it inhibit her or interfere with her work.

none of that even remotely holds a candle to the events at the spencer mansion in july 1998.

note: do not read further if mentions of cannibalism, dismemberment, animal death, murder, child death, etc. trigger you in any way.

shortly after S.T.A.R.S. alpha team sets foot into the territory of the arklay mountains where the bravo team has disappeared, joseph frost is mauled by a cerberus pack   —  doberman pinschers specifically engineered with a beta strain of the t-virus, crafted by umbrella. the sight of this leaves jill shell-shocked, arguably because she is both a known dog-lover and because she has never seen anything specifically like that in her life. 

keep in mind, she’s taken the investigation into the murders in the arklay mountains seriously and personally, given that the first two victims were two little girls she knew, aged nine and seven. seeing one of her fellow teammates getting mauled and eaten is jarring because of how unexpected and new and disturbing it is, but also because in that moment, she’s thinking of becky and priscilla mcgee. she’s so shell-shocked that she can’t move, let alone fire her weapon   —  wesker shoots a dog before it can attack her and she, chris, barry and wesker high-tail it toward the mansion.

in the mansion, her first encounter with a zombie is when she comes across it clamoring toward her; she shoots it twice before barry steps in and shoots it once in the head. they discover that it’s bravo team member ken sullivan, and after grimly ransacking his hip pouches for ammo and returning to the main hall to meet up with wesker, who has since disappeared.

she and barry agree that splitting up is their best option to locate chris, potential surviving bravo team members, and wesker, as they’ll be able to cover more ground. while jill traverses the mansion she encounters more zombies, violent crows, and a trap room that almost crushes her to death. once out of the mansion and into the courtyard, she finds a secret underground passageway and follows it, to where she finds enrico marini, injured and warning herself and barry that the entire operation is a set-up and umbrella knew about this all along. wesker, hidden by shadows and quick to retreat, kills enrico before he can say any more. jill stays behind and holds enrico’s hand in his dying moments while barry attempts to locate wesker.

jill has no doubt, by that point, that umbrella has a member of S.T.A.R.S. in their pocket, and ventures into the tunnels to find more answers. she encounters a hunter alpha and is able to put it down with several shots from her baretta and shotgun. it’s her first proper encounter with a bioweapon and the first time it really hits her that umbrella is up to worse things than she originally thought. 

this only pushes her further.

after almost being crushed to death raiders of the lost ark style by a giant boulder, she finds her way back to the courtyard and uncovers the entrance to the secret underground lab beneath the estate. she uncovers documentation regarding research and development of bioweapons and is ecstatic to bring the information back to the raccoon police department when barry leads her to wesker before being ordered to leave. wesker takes jill’s weapons and intends to throw her into a fight against a tyrant, which would ultimately lead to her death, but barry incapacitates him temporarily so he and jill can escape.

jill and barry reunite with chris and rebecca chambers on a helipad, with brad vickers circling above them in the alpha team’s chopper. before he can land, the tyrant that had escaped his stasis chamber emerges and engages the four in a fight. they keep him distracted by splitting rapid, aggressive gunfire, until brad tosses down a rocket launcher and chris kills the tyrant in one shot. they all escape, watching the spencer estate and all secrets and answers within it self-destruct as they fly back to the station.

jill’s encounters with zombies, the cerberus pack and various bioweapons in the mansion and secret lab shook her up considerably during the time. at points, she’s fully convinced she’s never going to get out of the mansion. she’s separated from most of the team early on and keeps mentally preparing herself to find chris dead, or worse. even when they escape, she doesn’t feel triumphant. the crash from the adrenaline high is hard as she stares out the hatch window, watching the spencer estate and every piece of evidence that could bury umbrella for causing countless deaths to innocent raccoon city citizens   —   to becky and priscilla   —   get destroyed.

following the mansion incident, the surviving S.T.A.R.S. team goes to chief irons, demanding a full investigation into umbrella regarding their involvement in the murders, as well as their illegal development of bioweaponry. irons shuts this down immediately, disbanding S.T.A.R.S. under the guise of them being too small to effectively carry out operations. jill is promptly suspended due to her insistence on an investigation into umbrella, and put under house arrest to hinder any attempts to investigate umbrella on her own.

this hardly stops her. despite all the medication she’s taking for her insomnia, she’s still barely sleeping and has a distinct loss of appetite   —   added on top of her lack of a job schedule, she has ample amounts of free time to dig into the investigation remotely. within a week, she has a board mounted on her wall, and with each passing day, more and more files are being added to it. 

with help from a personal data assistant she was given by a mysterious stranger ahead of the mansion incident, she compiles a list of names affiliated with umbrella’s bioweapons research: the only one that gets her very far, given that he’s still alive at the time of her investigation, is william birkin. she accurately profiles the t-virus. she has suspicions about other bioweaponry in development, such as the g-virus, but is unable to pinpoint the exact name of the g-virus and what it’s designed to do.

[ it’s also worth noting that she has a photo of an ne-alpha parasite on her board, which is the parasite umbrella implanted into a tyrant to create nemesis. ]

in addition to having an investigation board set up, jill has written a letter to chris, detailing that she’s being watched 24/7 by umbrella and she suspects that they will move in to kill her at any point. with the letter, she plans to send all of her files so that they’ll both be in safe hands, and be with someone she knows will continue the investigation if and when she is killed.

on sept. 28, 1998 at 8 p.m., she receives a phone call from brad vickers. it’s a split-second warning before nemesis crashes into her apartment through the wall and attacks her. she reacts quickly and is able to shake off the creature, at least temporarily.

while attempting to flee a horde of zombies, brad is bitten and infected   —   a sacrifice he makes so that jill can escape to the roof of a parking garage and hitch a ride on a rescue helicopter. before she can reach the helicopter, nemesis blows it up. jill attempts to incapacitate the creature with a vehicle and is unsuccessful; she is rescued on the streets below by carlos oliveira and taken to a temporary shelter, where she agrees to help his squad restore power to the subway station to get survivors out of the city.

throughout her venture through downtown raccoon city, she encounters throngs of infected citizens and is more than prepared to deal with it. she aims to conserve ammo when she can, shoots only when necessary, and has taken a habit of taking any useful supplies off of those who are dead and unanimated. she’s even able to hold her own against new mutations she encounters both in the city and the sewers.

in the hospital, she encounters hunter betas, which resemble the hunter alphas she encountered in the underground tunnels of spencer mansion. she has no issues dealing with them, as a result; even as she encounters more undead in NEST 2, including regenerative zombies known as pale heads, she’s able to keep a cool head and handle things on her own, following her method of shooting when necessary and thoroughly staying aware of her surroundings.

where nemesis is concerned, she learned it best in the mansion:   don’t assume anything. she recognizes nemesis immediately as a bioweapon, though she can’t say what it is, exactly. she knows in her gut that the creature is a creation of umbrella and was without a doubt sent into the raccoon city incident to hunt her down and kill her; this is only confirmed when she finds nikolai’s activity log. after the second time she thinks she’s killed nemesis and is proven unsuccessful, he’s mutated into something three times his former size and exhibits distinctly more animalistic behaviors in movement and pathing. after this point, she stops assuming she’s killed the creature and sets her entire focus on both her and the city’s survival. whenever nemesis pops up, she relies on every aspect of her S.T.A.R.S. training, and falls back on basics: deal as much damage as possible when possible, but prioritize finding cover and regrouping.

while jill never expected a full-scale t-virus outbreak and couldn’t have predicted nemesis, her prior encounter with both zombies and aggressive bioweapons at the spencer mansion gave her the knowledge and preparation she needed to survive. she knows being bitten is a death sentence at best and she knows better than to assume the vulnerabilities of anything umbrella has created.

[legaciestold]

@escapedfromthevoiid (leon)

claire redfield should have been sitting in her best friend's apartment, a cheesy movie playing on cable and a cold cheese burger in her hand because they were doing construction outside the building and she'd have had to walk an extra five minutes from the burger joint to bring their food there. that'd have been normal. that had been what claire had expected to be her life when she'd have returned from her trip to raccoon city and talking with chris and gone back to studying her for lit 102 test. just an average nineteen year-old student going about her life. ha! yeah right, claire. it was fantasy really. at least now, after...

claire redfield's life hadn't been normal in months and hell knew if it ever would be again.

nightmares flooded her mind nightly, her quickly learning to cover it the best she could to not worry sherry. they'd gotten even worse, if that was possible, after rockfort and the antarctic considering how little time passed since then. now a screeching manic voice echoed throughout in her dreams, zombies chasing her as she became a puppet in a gothic maze. she saw death. so much death. marvin turned into something horrific.. steve... god what did it make her that she hadn't attempted in some way to find out where he was? was any part of the boy still within him or had he fully succumbed in those seconds after..

what was wesker doing with him?

stop it, claire. what could you do? there's nothing you could do to help him now.

he'd been every bit a teenage boy with a crush and that was how she had to remember him because what had happened to him was too horrible. oh she hated alexia for what she did to him but maybe claire hated the boy's father too and not just because he'd tried to eat her literally. hated what he'd stood for: greed. greed that had caused so much death and suffering. sherry's parents had been at the center of things with umbrella too and the direction of claire's thoughts brought her more conviction that she wouldn't let anything like steve's fate fall upon sherry birkin. maybe she didn't know a lot about life being only nineteen, and she sure as hell didn't know as much as chris who was already a military vet and now fighting a war against umbrella or even barry who kept calling her a kid, but claire could learn. chris had taken care of her. she could take care of sherry. and she wasn't alone in that either. leon was there even if they'd ended up separated a few times like in paris. but they had stuck together, the three of them under the radar and traveling for three months.

but that'd all gone to shit within days of her reconnecting with leon and sherry, chris and jill meeting up with rebecca and the others after their england mission. after so long, she hadn't wanted to part with chris again but they had a system of communication now and none of them were sure how safe things would be for any of them. her and leon had to protect sherry and a hell of a lot of threats were still out there, especially when they all knew the truth of things. truths others didn't want people to find out. she doesn't remember a lot of how it went down, leon had been outside when she'd heard the commotion and she'd moved immediately to cover sherry as a flash and smoke spread through where they'd been staying. she remembers sherry yelling and then remembers waking up in a grey and dark interrogation room that she suspected was meant to intimidate her.

claire was getting real tired of being kidnapped, knocked out, and waking up to people that wanted her to give them information. it'd have been a repeat of her time with umbrella interrogators if not for the fact that she wasn't alone and had two other people to worry about. where they were, she wasn't sure but claire had to play along at least a little bit if she had any hopes of figuring it out. it wasn't long before the youngest redfield found out she wasn't captured by umbrella. no, this was an entirely different play at work and she was being presented with choices. not very ideal ones but choices nonetheless. and wasn't that one of the most important things chris had taught her?

'you always have choices, claire. remember that.'

claire redfield knows things other people don't. she has first-hand knowledge of b.o.w.'s and had proved capable enough to survive them. the child trusts redfield too and it's clear the cop wants to protect both of them. perhaps that's another point that's brought up among the people standing behind the two-way mirrors claire and if she had to bet, leon in another room, are glaring at. choices. what choice does she have? well, sure, maybe she technically does have a choice but claire liked to think she wasn't a shit human being so the choice she had to make was fucking obvious. nevermind, they used sherry's safety and leon's too, but did chris know his own government was using his safety to convince her too? the choice was simple. work for the government and they'll be safe (or as safe as they could be when some of them like leon and chris would be in the field too). train with the government and sherry gets to stay with her and leon. albeit, with tests still having to be conducted on the girl's blood. claire had nearly leapt the table at that but she'd restrained herself because she hadn't had any tactical advantage on her side in that room and she didn't want to give them reason to not bring her to sherry.

claire was also fairly certain, she knew what choice leon was making in whatever room they had him in. maybe they hadn't known each other that well in raccoon but she liked to think they knew each other a hell of a lot better after fielding requests from a child every other day and explaining why they couldn't take a puppy or a parrot traveling with them. either way, things become a lot less tense once they've gotten her agreement and she's taken into a hallway who's lights are almost blinding after the room she's been in for god knows how long. it's enough that she can't exactly see where she's being led next until she's brought to yet another room and allowed inside. there's no sherry and she's about to round on the agents or whatever they were until her eyes fall on leon.

"leon! but wait--" she pauses then, turns back toward the men. "you said you'd bring me to sherry! i agreed to your fucking deal, so where is she?"

she's having a medical exam, apparently. which meant tests. but there was nothing claire could do about it except get the agreement from the men who were leaving that sherry would be brought to them before they leave. leave.. where? god, she's so tired of this shit. and yet she just kept getting brought deeper into it, didn't she?

a sigh escapes her, her breath finally released as she turns back toward leon with a sense of relief. a flash of memory is recalled of waking up in that cell at rockfort, the ground shaking and blood in the air and wondering if she'd die there of starvation or turned into a zombie. at least she wasn't alone and these people weren't actually trying to kill them. not if they wanted them to work for them. she recalls the other part of that memory too, feeling warmer because she'd remembered him taking her hand at some point on that night so long ago now and that'd been what had awoken her to back to reality at the time in that cell. maybe that's what propels her forward so that she can hug him. or maybe it's just the weight of everything that's happened in the last two weeks finally crashing in on her and making her need something tangible for just a moment.

a few beats pass before she pulls back and looks at him. "are you okay? considering they want us to work for them, they really didn't have to do such a number on us. then again, i don't imagine you made it easy for them to nab us." especially when there had been no real way for them, at the time, to know the people taking them into custody weren't umbrella.

[biomend-a]

𝙱𝚁𝚄𝙸𝚂𝙴𝚂  𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙺𝙴  𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁  𝙲𝙻𝙰𝙸𝙼  like  storm  clouds  in  the  pale  sky,  their  imprints  a  visual  reminder  of  a  not  so  distant  past.  an  echo  of  survival,  of  blood  𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙶  in  shades  of  black  and  blue  beneath  the  surface,  filling  in  the  marks  left  behind  by  malevolent  ghosts.  each  cut,  scratch  and  contusion  has  a  story,  but  she  doesn't  pry  just  yet,  not  until  the  wound  has  had  time  to  heal,  scab  over,  then  eventually  fall  off,  shedding  the  skin  of  trauma  layer  by  layer,  ounce  by  precious  ounce.

𝑩𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮  𝑵𝑬𝑾𝑺  -  𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑪𝑶𝑶𝑵  𝑪𝑰𝑻𝒀  𝑰𝑵  𝑹𝑼𝑰𝑵𝑺.  𝑾𝑰𝑷𝑬𝑫  𝑶𝑭𝑭  𝑻𝑯𝑬  𝑴𝑨𝑷  𝑳𝑨𝑺𝑻  𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑲  𝑰𝑵  𝑨  𝑺𝑼𝑫𝑫𝑬𝑵  𝑩𝑳𝑨𝑺𝑻,  𝑻𝑯𝑬  𝑪𝑰𝑻𝒀  𝑰𝑺  𝑵𝑶𝑾-

she  turns  off  the  television  with  a  weary  sigh,  wrapping  jill's  arm  in  gauze,  her  gaze  full  of  worry.  the  hotel  room  has  seen  better  days,  spattered  in  stains  from  carpet  to  ceiling,  the  stench  of  cigarette  smoke  hanging  in  the  air  like  an  𝚄𝙽𝚆𝙴𝙻𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴  guest...  clinging  to  their  hair  and  clothes.  it  could  be  worse.

                                                 '  it  could  always  be  worse.  '

❝  all  done.  you'll  be  good as new  in  a  few  days,  that  should  be  just  enough  time  for  us  all  to  reconvene. ❞  spoken  softly  as  if  it  were  an  afterthought,  she  lies  back  onto  the  broken  mattress  springs,  staring  at  the  stains  and  cracked  stucco,  desperately  trying  to  escape  from the  𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙴  they've  been  thrown  into; knowing  deep  down  it's  only  just  begun.

❝   when  i  heard  the  news  i  assumed  the  worst.  i  thought  you  were  -  ❞  the  words  teeter  on  the  edge  of  rebecca's  tongue,  but  they  don't  come  out.  instead,  she  leans  forward,  breathing  out  the  thought  with  a  𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙳  expression.  ❝  i'm  glad  you're  okay...  despite  the  circumstances. ❞  despite  the  fact  they  may  not  survive  the  fall  of  umbrella,  it's  well  worth  the  risk.  it’s  worth  every  invaluable  sacrifice.

@jilltm​  /  plotted  thing.

[starsescape]

The tongue move and lash right above her with drool dripping down from its tip landing on her arm and chest... It doesn’t know I’m here. Unknowingly the creature mark Jill with its saliva. It can’t know.

Jill stood still. It was hard to think of anything else than what she felt. It feels hot. The drool trickle down her chest leaving a wet trail behind as it run into her cleavage. The light shook as her hand holding the flashlight tremble. The adrenaline kick in as her instincts told her to escape, shoot it or do anything else than just stay still and wait it out. The tongue move lower. Now it whip slowly right before her face. Jill stumble back with fear. That fear push her to act without thinking.

Jill duck down and run. She ran right underneath it. The creature let out a predatory hiss and it was followed by the violent sound of its tongue whipping through the air where Jill had been just a second ago. Jill ran even when she heard how the wood on the ceiling splintered and rain down as the mutant turn around and chase after her. I can make it. The door to the S.T.A.R.S. office was just a few meters away.

[Skill challenge 6, Jill succeeds with survival down at 6 (-1 to her skill due to the eggs)] Jill reach out to grab the handle before throwing herself against the door. Crashing through Jill hit the desk opposite from the door and let out a ghastly moan as she felt the eggs roll in her stomach before she manage to turn around to face the open door. The creature still hang from the ceiling as she rush back to close it. She grab the edge of the door as the creature leap forward, but the door slam shut right in front of it. A loud bang came behind the door as the creature hit it. Jill drop the flashlight and let it roll under a desk which left her in the dark. She took out the shotgun and aim it at the door while listening the gnarly hissing and scratching coming from the other side. Stop.. Just stop, already. Jill was trembling, but she was focused. The fear of the creature bursting through the door gnaw at her, yet she didn’t let it win. If it would come she would be ready for it.

Eventually it gave up. Deep down Jill wish it hadn’t, she wish it would have just come through instead. Jill lean against the desk behind her and sit down on the floor. She realize how trapped she was. Alone with no firepower. She was safe for now, but the moment Jill would try to leave the creature would hear her exit the room. I’m screwed.. Jill let out a dry laugh and shook her head. It took a lot to get up on her feet, yet alone get out of that desperate state of mind. Think positive. Jill made it. Back at the S.T.A.R.S. office. Something useful has to be here.

Turning on the lights Jill felt a sting of sadness. She look over the desk of her colleagues before crouching down next to one the flashlight had roll underneath. She pick it up and turn it off. Jill just stood there.. Feels weird to be back. The office look the same, but there were cardboard boxes everywhere. After the S.T.A.R.S. was disbanded it didn’t take too long for the chief to repurpose this room. Some of the boxes were marked for disposal, some for the archives and there were few sealed boxes with the word “SWAT” written on them. It seem the SWAT team was supposed to take their office, but now they were just as lost as the S.T.A.R.S. were. At least they weren’t in a hurry to move in. Even in the chaotic state of the office most things were right where they had left them on their last day before the suspension.

Standing by the door to Jill’s left was the desk with a fax machine, printer and a phone. Past it was the front of the office with a trophy cabinet, television and the captain’s desk. The space in the middle of the office had the desks of the team members, including hers, and at the back was the weapons locker, radio equipment and the file cabinet with the files of the past cases. Home sweet home. Jill had spent countless nights at the office, studying the files. A lot of work and making theories, very little sleep.. Too much coffee. She could see the coffee maker at Barry’s desk, the pot was half full. There was no way of telling how old the coffee was. Ignoring it she start the search.

She move to the front of the office. Jill wish to clean Wesker’s desk first to get it over with as she felt the hate for him build up. The captain had betrayed and lured the S.T.A.R.S. into the mansion where all of this started. Jill knew it was naive to blame just one person, especially since she knew Wesker had only been part of the Umbrella, but it was easier to pin the bitterness she felt on someone she knew rather than on a faceless corporation. Refusing to let that anger take a hold of her she search the desk quickly. There wasn’t much of anything if not counting a film canister she found. It was unmarked and it was impossible to tell what kind of image it contain, but if Jill would take it back to the dark room she could develop it there.

Moving away from Wesker’s desk Jill step past it to look at the framed picture on the wall behind it. It was a picture of the S.T.A.R.S members. Jill reach out to it. She rest her hand on it, briefly caressing it as if she could touch the people she had already lost or to connect with those who she knew were still somewhere out in the city. [Unlockable reward for visiting the S.T.A.R.S. office]

Jill smile like she did in the picture, forcing herself to forget where she was now and how proud she had felt when the picture was taken. How happy everyone had been back then. Sure they had their misgivings, flaws and drama, but the team had been her life. Maybe it still was. We are still a team. Always. Jill could count the surviving members with one hand. Chris, Barry and Rebecca... She isn’t even in the picture. It felt unfair that the rookie wasn’t in it, but Rebecca had joined the team a month after it was taken. Just the four of us left anymore.

Leaving the memories behind Jill continue the search. [Randomized outcome] Next she rummage through Barry’s desk which turn up four pistol bullets. Great.. It was a shame Jill had left the pistol in the item box in favor of taking the shotgun. Despite the disappointment Jill knock the side of the desk just like when she ask for Barry’s attention. Thank you, Barry. It was his farewell gift for Jill after all. I hope you enjoy Canada. He move out of the country after the mansion incident to protect his family and she hadn’t heard of him since then, but she knew they would see each other again. I miss your terrible jokes.

Moving on to search Chris’s desk Jill reminiscent about the past. He was the first S.T.A.R.S. member she had met when she arrive at the Raccoon City and Chris had welcome her on the behalf of the team. It took some time to warm up to him, but they grew close... Intimate. They were partners, maybe more than that. Everything was more complicated at work. Now Chris was gone like everyone else, but at least Jill knew where he was. Chris left the city after his suspension and went to the hideout the S.T.A.R.S. members used to prepare for their major operation against the Umbrella. If Jill would make it out of here she would head there and join with him. I hope you are safe. [Randomized outcome] Chris had been a bit too thorough when he empty his desk from anything useful, which was remarkable with how messy his desk look even now. Only his journal was there.

August 8th I talked to the chief today once again, but he refused to listen to me. I know for certain that Umbrella conducted T-virus research in that mansion. Anyone infected turns into a lunatic. But the entire mansion went up in that explosion; along with any incriminating evidence. Since Umbrella employs so many people in town, no one is willing to talk about the incident. It looks like I'm running out of options. August 17th We've been receiving a lot of local reports about strange monsters appearing at random throughout the city. This must be the work of Umbrella. August 24th With the help of Jill and Barry, I finally obtained information vital to this case. Umbrella has begun research on the new G-virus, a variation of the original T-virus. Haven't they done enough damage already?! We talked it over, and have decided to fly to the main Umbrella HQ in Europe. I won't tell my sister about this trip because doing so could put her in danger. Please forgive me Claire.

Chris... Jill place the journal back down. She truly wish that Chris was still ignorant of the fate of the Raccoon City. I hope you are still busy making the preperations for our flight to Europe.. Waiting for me and Barry. Buying weapons, supplies and trying to smuggle them out of the country without the police nor the spies from the Umbrella noticing was a challenge, but so far it seem that they weren’t aware of their plans. If Jill would escape the city she would go to Eupore and put a stop to this.

Opposite to her partner’s desk was her own. Jill chuckle upon seeing the blue beret on the table along with the lockpick. Picking it up Jill felt her luck turn. She felt more confident with the lockpick. Underneath the desk was a box with her old S.T.A.R.S. uniform. Could put it on again.. But that decision could wait until she was done searching the office. [Unlocked the optional outfit: S.T.A.R.S. uniform]

Jill check the desk of the rookie last. Rebecca Chambers was the youngest member of the team and the only other woman. Jill like her, but she thought that Rebecca was too kind for her own good. She was a bit of a medical genius which made her valuable, but she lack experience on the field. The girl was only eighteen years old. Can’t believe she survived back then. Rebecca was suspended with the others due to being a survivor of the mansion incident, but Jill didn’t know what happened to her after that. All she knew was that Rebecca was still somewhere in Raccoon City.. Maybe Brad would have known where she was. Rebecca and Brad had been close friends and from what she understood they keep contact even after Rebecca was suspended. If Jill would see the girl she would have to tell her what happened to Brad. Jill didn’t search just for items, but also for clues on where Rebecca could have gone. [Randomized outcome] Jill learn nothing new, but at least there was a first aid spray that she could use. She almost wish Rebecca would have forgot her herb mixing set, yet she felt awful for even thinking like that. Rebecca propably need it more than she ever would. Nemesis is after her and she doesn’t even know about the danger she is in.. I have to find her before he does.

Due to the cramped office space Brad didn’t get his own desk and he was made to use the table with the radio equipment. Despite him being the last S.T.A.R.S. officer still in the police force there was no personal effects left behind. Not too surprising, Jill doubt Brad was given much to do except to back up the things of his former team mates before the SWAT would have move in. She turn on the radio receiver to be able to catch any chatter while turning to look through was the weapons locker. [Randomized outcome] No way.. It was still there. Jill couldn’t hold back her laugh as she reach out to pick up and literally embrace the grenade launcher. She inspect the locker thoroughly and found [Randomized outcome] two explosive rounds. Chances of her getting out of here had double since she enter the room despite Jill not being trained to use special weapons.

Jill close the weapons locker and turn to take the view of the room for the last time. Thanks, guys.. I will make sure it wasn’t all for nothing. She load the grenade launcher and throw it on her back. It was time to leave the place she had thought as her second home with the only family she had. It was all in the past now. There was nothing left for her here. Jill smile and turn to face the door knowing what wait for her on the other side. The creature was still in the corridor that lead to the library she had to go through to reach the chief’s office on the other wing of the police station. Only there she would find clues on where and how to get rid off the eggs she carry. It was time to go.

Make note that we have two votes this time!

[Vote for what Jill should do]

[Vote for outfit change]

[imahungrynacho]

Words could not describe the feeling.

Numbness. Despair. Horror. Disgust. Disbelief. No matter what, they were always there. Swimming around in her actions and her thoughts, Jill had been through so much- she had thought with every encounter she had reached her breaking point.

She was so wrong.

In between her emotions were feelings of hope, but those feelings seldom did little to comfort her. Memories of death, survival, blood, betrayal and faith haunted her dreams- people she once knew and took for granted in their presence in her life- stricken from normality and tossed into chaos.

Umbrella was to pay for it, but Umbrella was gone now. Yet their legacy lives on. Millions of undead continue to walk the earth. Their work was carried on by new, more ambitious individuals- and Umbrella had been turned into something new- something more dangerous.

Tricell.

And with their goals they have changed the course of lives for so many individuals. Hers in particular started in Arklay- and that was when her nightmares began. So often she would recall those she had lost- and those that survived, just as affected and ruined as she was.

However, Jill could never bring herself to just let go- to confide in them of her nightmares and her constant grief. They had their own demons to fight and she would be damned if she allowed any of them to carry her load when they already had so much to carry on their own.

Chris. Rebecca. Barry. Carlos.

They’ve all done so much for her and had given her so much hope- and it was amazing to see how, compared to today- she had been so full of vigor and hope. But when she gave her life to stop Wesker as his hands grabbed the flesh of Chris’ neck- threatening to snap- she did not think.

She only acted.

The rest was a blur, she felt sharp pains all around her arms and she carried a weight along with her- and she fell. She had her eyes closed for the longest time. She was going to die, and she would die valiantly- allowing Chris to live and Wesker to die along with her. It was poetic in a sense. He had been the catalyst for her entering the Mansion in Arklay all those years ago.

And she would take her justice for so many deaths- of both her comrades and the citizens of Raccoon City and that of the rest of the world. She remembered both of their bodies crashing onto rocks- her body jolting and violently crashing with every stone on the way down. Her whole body was on fire and rigid with pain of all kinds. She was certain she would die from the shock but she survived.

She hadn’t known how, but she had many days to contemplate that perhaps Wesker had little injuries from the fall thanks to whatever superhuman strength he had acquired- and had seen promise in her spirit and her valor.

He had taken her and put that…

That…

Her hands felt weightless as she tentatively reached for the thick, red scar across her chest. Six red dots outlines the thick oval scar, from where the appendage had sunk its poison into her- making her into a dangerous soldier who followed introductions. Everything Wesker or Excella commanded, she followed dutifully involuntarily. So many things she could have prevented, so many things she could have done…

If only she was… stronger.

If she was able to regain control of her body without putting Chris and Sheva in the line of danger. The thing had complete control over her actions and what she said, and all she had that was her own was her mind- how badly she wanted to scream for help, to curse Wesker, to curse Tricell- to damn Umbrella to the fiery pits of the hells they helped create, to fight- do anything.

But as much as she struggled to move even a single fucking finger- she stood still and perfectly behaved, beside them… all the while helping them cover their tracks.

Protecting them.

She wanted to punch the figure that stood before her in the mirror. Stupid. Idiot. Weak.

She could have done something to help stop all this. If only she was stronger- if only… she barely felt the tears as they rolled fiercely down her cheeks. Against the mirror- she looked and felt like a mess. The tears blinded her vision, and no matter how many times Chris or Rebecca would say that she wasn’t to blame, she couldn’t help but feel the opposite and always tears followed.

Her skin was pale and lifeless, as was her hair that turned a white blonde during experimentation. She looked like a ghost of her former self. A ghost with a scar and with a never ending nightmare to follow every time she fell asleep and woke the next day.

It was a curse, but it was also a reminder.

A reminder that she was there where it all began. And no matter how much it would break her- she was determined to be there when the journey ended.

———-

So my brain earlier today went

“huh, remember how SICK RE5 was?” 8D

“And remember how it’s confirmed in RE3 that Jill suffers from PTSD?” 8(

“And remember how when she was brainwashed, she could actually think but could not control her actions?” ...

She has PTSD on steroids now is where that thought process went, and I wanted to do something that kind of references the intro to RE3 with Jill’s nightmare where she is looking at herself through the mirror. Physically she is fine and healthy, but mentally- she is in a different place. And I have no doubt that the events in RE5 made it worse for her.

Why ya gotta hurt my Jill Capcom? wtf 8(

[sylvieusedhyperbeam]

just resident evil thoughts don’t mind me  :U

this is probably going to be mostly perceived as OH A WESKER FANGIRL BITCHING ABOUT WESKER’S DEATH IN RE5 SO SALTY and eh, to some degree you may be a bit right.  but after talking Project Resistance with a few friends, idk it just got me thinking and i just wanna get my thoughts down!

and for the record, no, i’m not gonna be stanning for Wesker or trying to excuse his bullshit.  i wholly acknowledge that his moral compass is a dumpster fire and so is he, but from a writing perspective i just feel like he deserved better because i’m a goddamn sucker for sympathetic villains.  sue me.  >:V

i think i’ll go ahead and say upfront that Resident Evil 5 was fun as its own individual game, sure, but... as an RE game?  yeah no lmao.  sorry, but it just didn’t feel like an RE game to me.  but quick disclaimer that i don’t have anything against anyone who enjoyed it!  you do you, man!  but i have a few problems with RE5 that still kinda... idk, itch in my brain to this day.

like.  i personally think Wesker’s death came about in this game as a result of the writers realizing that they made Wesker too good of a villain and were like, “well shit marve, what do we do now that we’ve built up the hype of him unveiling his Big Evil Plans off the momentum of Umbrella Chronicles and RE4???“ and then marve was all “huh... shit, joe, you’re right.  um... okay, let’s do... this???” and then proceeded to shoehorn in the Wesker Children shit along with a cutscene that’s supposed to establish Wesker’s breaking point as justification for trashing his characterization. 

no hints about the Wesker Children ever being a thing, no allusions to it, just... “Oh yeah, this thing is a thing, now.  Also, big weakness that was never hinted at.  Also he can’t see in the dark despite that never seeming to be a problem for him before.”  

now, the Wesker Children has potential as an interesting prospect (because fuck it, I like Alex), but yeah.

anyway, i guess what really aggravates me is that this all had a pretty big easy fix. 

Spencer should have been the villain for RE5.

like, i’m not even saying that as a Wesker fan.  i’m saying that as someone who recently started a replay of the first RE Remake, where it’s set in stone that Spencer is just a fucking despicable human being.  Say what you will about Wesker (who i will reiterate is an ethical/moral dumpsterfire), but Spencer is the evil BEYOND the evil.  Spencer is the original sin of the entire series.  Spencer is the one who trapped George Trevor and his family in the Arklay mansion, leaving George to fucking starve to death in one of his own passageways while ordering Lisa to be experimented on.  And hell, Spencer is the one who began the Wesker Children project, which i feel pretty safe assuming ordered the kidnapping and abuse of several ‘genetically viable’ children for the purpose of indoctrination.  because THIS moldy dickbiscuit wants to be god.

like, seriously, time for an exercise: go on youtube, search for and watch the fight against Lisa Trevor in the RE 1 remake, and remember that Spencer did all of this.

then look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to launch a warhead at this fucker.  because i know I did, and i was legitimately mad that i didn’t get to in RE5.  godDAMN does he deserve it.

that’s why i think, for RE5, an interesting direction to take would have been... idk, Chris and Wesker teaming up to have to take down Spencer?  i feel like it would have availed a lot of interesting interactions and a shit ton of character development on both their ends.  It would have started Wesker down the first steps to piecing together goals and fragments of an identity AROUND the indoctrination Spencer forced onto him, and maybe via conversations about their end goals, it would have given Chris a look into the moral gray areas that sometimes global change necessitates.  maybe it would have been an exercise for both characters to look into the other side and see how they react or adapt to it all?

TOO MUCH TO ASK I KNOW but Wesker and Chris’ interactions were always interesting to me, so fuck it, that’s the RE5 i would have wanted to see. 

and like idk maybe we would have even gotten some HINTS as to why Wesker hates Chris so much.  i’ve always kinda wondered why that was a thing, since Jill and Rebecca and Barry were JUST as involved with wrecking Wesker’s shit at the mansion, but Chris is the one that seems to win the brunt of Wesker’s animosity.  IDK MAN it would have been nice to have some answers.  >:|

tl;dr: Spencer is a clump of dick cheese and RE5 missed out on some major opportunities to explore characters and put emphasis on plot imo.  even my preferences aside, i still feel like it was a mistake on Capcom’s part to have such a major evil in the RE lore as Spencer just... kinda tossed aside anticlimatically in a cutscene.  beh.

but that might be because i really, really wanted to launch a warhead at Spencer’s moldy ass fucking face because fuck you, Spencer.  it would have been for Lisa. 

more of my dumb thoughts to follow at some point maybe idfk.

[fandomshipping]

like ships

[Inspired by this piece by @hachi-san88 and for @biohazard4ever. Hope this suffices!]

“Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,  Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.” ― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Tales of a Wayside Inn 

Perhaps it was always going to amount to this.

Claire doesn’t think about Raccoon City as often as she used to. But when she does, it’s sudden, like a gust of cold wind that comes out of nowhere.

Perhaps it’s the way that child held himself, or how some places smelled like of decay, or how a survivor’s skin rotted against bones and muscle. And then she’s back—to the nineteen-year-old who thought Chris was just being an ass, to the college kid who wasn’t supposed to experience the things she had.

She remembers the gun being pointed at her, how she felt stuck between a rock and a hard place—

—and the relief that came after, knowing she was not its target.

“You alright?”

It makes her a little sad when she thinks about it now. How warm Leon sounded. How kind. How their meetings were always cut short by explosions and chained doors.

But perhaps she should’ve known by then. Not just how Raccoon’s specter would haunt the rest of their lives, but their parting.

Leon doesn’t think about Raccoon City as often as he used to. But when he does, the memory’s faded, diluted by tragedy and the scent of whiskey.

He knows it’s probably not the best way to go about things. Hunnigan will be all over his case the next day, and Chris will too, seeing as they’ve begun conducting joint missions with the BSAA. But he really doesn’t care, to be honest—he’s just another cog in the machine, killing zombies and the next BOW that gets in their way. Some days he wonders why he even bothers.

But in between jobs, when he’s out at a bar feeling sorry for himself, he thinks about Raccoon and everything it stood for and why he hated it so. How it killed good people. How he couldn’t save them. How its secrets corrupted those in power.

How they took away him and Sherry.

“You okay?”

And suddenly he’s back—to the 21-year-old rookie under the government’s employ, to the landing pad where he first met Chris Redfield.

Claire looked kind, but so, so cold.

“Yeah,” he said, garbling the words in a way that betrayed how he really felt. But he couldn’t break down just yet. For Sherry. And now, for Claire. He looked at the tattered aircraft to see if there was anybody else there. “Is your friend here? The one in the email?”

She bit her lip, and at once he regretted asking.

“He, uh... he didn’t make it,” she said, voice as garbled as his was. Shit.

“Claire, I’m so sorry,” he said, apologetically. But even then he wasn’t sure how to take it—should he come closer, give her a hug, tell her everything was going to be all right? He felt glued to where he was, with legs as heavy as lead.

Instead, she tried to assure him, telling the same lies he did and keeping the same strong front. They were similar, he and Claire. Sometimes a little too close for comfort. 

He wonders if this was why never talked after Harvardville. She was just a click away, after all—there was Chris, the brother she adored, but he couldn’t quite stand sometimes. And there was Sherry. But the mere thought of it brought him back to that moment when he couldn’t quite comfort her the way he used to nor bring himself to give so much as a reassuring squeeze.

And then he thinks that perhaps this is the way it always was. That she was better off without him, much like the other people in his life. If anything, it was too late now.

Sometime after the fiftieth biohazard, things eventually died down a little. More countries began to chime in on legislative and executive measures to counteract bioterrorism, and a crackdown on companies, governments, and organizations that made use of these measures were made. The dispensation of the vaccine worldwide was made a top priority. And while there were a few odd individuals here and there who still made use of BOWs, the BSAA and Blue Umbrella had enough resources to go after them before they presented a worldwide threat.

But while things weren’t exactly the way they used to be, it did allow some quiet moments. And during such a time, Chris suggested a quick celebration.

She couldn’t help but snicker a bit. It just wasn’t like him—if anything, he was more of a workaholic than she was, and way too serious to party. But then he mentioned how Barry really wanted to get together, and how Jill and Parker and even the guys at the DSO were willing to chip in, even for just one night. It was the holidays, after all.

“And Sheva’s planning to fly in this weekend.”

“Well look at you,” she teased, something Chris didn’t particularly like. But she had to hand it to him, anyway. He’d already been through so much.

They’d already been through so much. 

"And by the way, Claire,” he said, just as she was making a turn. “Leon’s coming, too. Thought you should know.”

She probably hit the brake a little too hard.

“Oh,” she said, phone secure between her cheek and shoulder.

“Oh? I thought you’d be a little more excited.”

A pause. In her heart of hearts she knew he was right—that she should be a little more excited, it’s been more than twelve years for God’s sake—but she just couldn’t. Over the course of a decade, it was as if Leon had turned from friend to legend, someone she only knew through Chris’ ramblings. And she didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Of course I’m excited,” Claire lied, glad they were having this conversation over the phone and not face-to-face. “Some asshole just tried to cut me in line, per usual.”

“Just let him. Better a little inconvenience than a full-on road accident,” he replied, in that concerned, brotherly tone he never grew out of. At least it gave her a distraction. Eventually, she maneuvered her way out of the conversation and bade goodbye, glad she didn’t have to broach the topic.

But they’d have to, sooner or later. She wasn’t sure when or why Leon became a touchy topic. It wasn’t like he abandoned her or did anything wrong. But perhaps it was precisely that. The fact that nothing bad happened between the both of them made things even worse.

Midway into the party, most of the attendees were either drunk or chatting up a storm. It was comforting, in a way—both because it gave a sense of warm kinship and allowed her to retreat into her thoughts.

She’d finally met Rebecca in person, who also found it funny how they’d only met then despite their long involvement in Chris’ life. Sheva was equally brilliant, with her sharp wit and knowing smile. Whenever they huddled to chat Claire saw Chris look over in concern, and impishly she wondered if he regretted bringing them all together. Barry and Moira came a little bit later, while Sherry, Hunnigan, and some DSO staff arrived after. Even a few Blue Umbrella reps joined, somewhat sheepishly, but after a few drinks and backslaps from Barry, they eased up a bit more in their presence.

And Leon was nowhere in sight. 

Claire desperately wanted to find solace in the fact. Here, she was surrounded by people she loved without any immediate threat, bioweapon or otherwise. And her biggest concern was nowhere to be found. She should be happy. She should be enjoying this. 

But she couldn’t.

“Claiiire,” came a voice, and suddenly Sherry Birkin had her arms around her in drunken stupor. While it was nice to see her happy, Claire wasn’t too keen on her drinking beyond her limit. Looking to Barry for answers, it only took a second to decipher the shot glass in Moira’s hand and the grin on her face.

“Moira,” she said, sighing. The girl waved her hand and winked.

“Hunnigan said we could play a drinking game!”

Amid Hunnigan’s protests, Claire took it as an opportunity to steer Sherry towards a couch and convince her to take some water. Before long, the girl was fast asleep, and she was at least secure in the fact that Hunnigan was there to watch over her.

She’d grown so much, Sherry. And so strong. 

She’s not sure she could say the same thing about herself.

“Claire,” came Chris, and she gave Sherry one last look before heading towards him. At least Hunnigan is here this time. At least she’s safe.

“Yeah?” she says, noting the phone in her brother’s hand. He seemed concerned.

“I can’t reach Leon,” he said, plainly. “Not sure if he’s just flaking off or something, but I feel like there’s something’s wrong. Could you try calling him on your cell?”

It was like a lump had lodged itself in her throat.

“Yeah, sure,” she said absentmindedly, hoping Chris didn’t notice. Never mind that she wasn’t sure if Leon had changed his number or not. Or if he wanted to hear from her either. “I’ll just see if I still have the right number.”

“I could give you his current, if you want.”

“Sure,” she said, the lump growing larger. Reluctantly, she took his phone and dialed in the number, waiting for an answer. 

She honestly hoped he wouldn’t respond.

Words couldn’t describe the relief she felt when it stopped ringing.

“He’s not answering my call, either.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Maybe I should go see if he’s alright.”

Calls from some drunk BSAA operatives seemed to prompt otherwise, and she noticed Chris’ brow furrow like it often did when he felt conflicted. 

She knew what she had to do, and she didn’t like it.

“I’ll handle it,” she said, ignoring her own discomfort and faking a smile. “Can’t keep your guests waiting, after all.”

He looked concerned, as always. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” she said, a little too brightly. “I’ve got an earful for him that’s long overdue.”

That was the thing, however. She wasn’t sure if she had anything to say.

The apartment complex was faded and reeked of decay, with trash littered across the corridors and termites hovering around light bulbs. The whole place was a health hazard, like one wrong move could warrant a skin infection.

He didn’t really care, to be honest. The dilapidation suited him just fine—surely no one would bother finding him here. 

Sluggishly, he looked down the bottle in his hand—a large whiskey type obviously not made for drinking up straight. It doesn’t stop him anyway, and before long he’s downed another bottle, twice in a row.

The dinner he prepared for two was probably rotting by now, but to hell with that. He doesn’t know why he even tries sometimes, especially when she gave him so little to run on. But maybe it was precisely that: that perhaps he was just looking for something to look forward to, no matter how dismal it was.

Then there was Chris and his stupid party, which he should’ve gone to in retrospect. It was probably better than drinking himself to death; at least some people would talk him out of it. But as he watched his phone ring and vibrate, he couldn’t help but think he’d sooner tell Chris to go fuck himself than go to that pithy get-together.

He was hard on the man, he knew. Deep down, he knew Chris was only doing this because he cared. But he couldn’t bring himself to accept that.

A few raps on his door interrupted his self-pitying tirade, but he was too boozed up to notice. Or, if he did, he assumed it was a trick of his imagination. Eventually, the knocking became persistent, and out of habit he took the pistol on the table, slowly approaching the door.

It better be Redfield.

“What do you want, Redfield?” he said, perhaps a little too angrily. Not surprisingly, he was greeted with silence.

He took a more cautious stance as he inched towards the door, ready to neutralize any possible threat. With a finger on the trigger, he paused for a moment to assess the situation before looking through the peephole.

“I think you’ve got the wrong Redfield.”

And his hands suddenly felt so, so cold.

Almost instantaneously, he found himself opening the door—to hell with it whether it was a decoy or not. But there she was, auburn hair and all: a specter of the past he never thought he’d face again.

Claire Redfield.

She was real.

“Hey, Leon,” she said, almost reluctantly. 

For a moment, the two just stood there in silence, awkward as it was. Once again, she found the lump in her throat forming, like a cold stone that forced its way down her esophagus. What was there to say, anyway? Good to see you? How have you been? Her eyes darted around what little space they had in search of a topic, before landing on the small dining table just off the living room.

“I see you’ve been waiting for someone.”

Instinctively, he rested his head on the doorway. “Not really. She was a no-show.”

“That’s too bad,” Claire said, voice like tin. “So I guess you wouldn’t mind a little company?”

He paused for a moment, trying to fight out of the fog and haze that descended in his head. “Yeah, sure. Just come right in.”

Somehow, the unexpected arrival sobered him a bit. He found himself consciously trying to hide his staggering steps, even if he knew his breath had already given him away. Even if his table was a mess of alcoholic drinks and a strange milieu of food combinations.

Claire didn’t seem to mind, despite noticing it all. If anything, she seemed uneasy about another thing, but he couldn’t tell what.

“Chris wanted to check on you,” she said, finally. “He was worried when you didn’t answer your phone or went to the party.” 

Slumping on the couch, the words hit him and made him laugh, almost bitterly. “That’s it? Really?” Slowly, he rested his legs on the table, moving the bottles aside with his feet. “Well, it’s nice to know he’s concerned. Especially if he sent you just to check up on me.”

“Leon,” she said, with a lilt he was familiar with. It was a warning.

“So,” he continued, arms resting on the headrest. “Is there anything else Chris wants to tell me? Or is that it?” He knows he’s in dangerous territory now, but he couldn’t stop—there was something about the mixture of shock, and disappointment, and hurt that kept him going, even if he knew he was an asshole at this point. Her silence just prodded him further.

“I mean if that’s all you've got that’s fine by me. Just tell Chris I’m fine, and I’m sorry I couldn’t go to his party, okay? Now if you’re done here, the door’s just right there so you could see yourself out and—”

“Leon, what the fuck is wrong with you.”

The words hit him like a bucket of ice to the face.

She was seething now, he knew. But not in a way he expected. It wasn’t plain anger or hatred—he could see the same hurt, the same disappointment that he felt reflected in her eyes, and it stung. But he just couldn’t back off now.

“Me? What the fuck is wrong with me?” he said, voice rising. “I’m not the one barging in here after more than a decade just to play messenger for someone else! Is this really all it took to talk to me, Claire? Am I that inconsequential to you?”

“That’s not true,” she said, teeth gritted. “That’s not true and you know it. When I keep tabs on Sherry I keep tabs on you, and you fucking know it. I have fucking voicemail from Hunnigan to prove it.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’ve been busy all the time trying to save someone else’s ass,” he said, matching her tenacity. He knew deep down he shouldn’t be doing this, but he was all riled up and couldn’t stop. “I did say we could meet some time a little more normal, didn’t I? Well, things haven’t been exactly normal, have they?”

“They are now,” she said, like she was wrenching out a response. Like she was holding back tears.

“Are they really?”

The silence felt heavy and suffocating, like a dark, tar-like liquid. They couldn’t even look each other in the eye.

It shouldn’t have escalated to this point, that much he knew. And with the guilt finally getting through to him, he knew he had to do something.

“Claire...”

“I don’t want to fight with you, Leon,” she said, voice soft and hollow. It made him feel even worse.

He gave a sigh. “Claire, why don’t you sit down. There’s plenty of space on the couch.”

Her eyes finally met his, with stinging clarity. Hurt. All he could see was hurt. “Okay,” she said, almost under her breath.

For a moment, they just sat there, trying to find the words to say. And after more than a decade of silence, it wasn’t an easy feat. For the most part, they stared into the distance, trying their hardest not to catch the other’s eye. 

“You cut your hair,” Leon said, breaking the silence. It was so obvious that it sounded dumb, but it was better than nothing. Instinctively, Claire reached out for the shortened ends.

“Yeah,” she said. “I had surgery some time back and had to chop some of it off. Apparently it takes a while for it to grow back.”

“Oh,” he responded. “What happened?”

“It’s a...” she said, taking a strained breath. “It’s kinda a long story.” A pause. “How about you? I heard you still had a thing with Ada going.”

“Oh. That,” he said, a little flatter than usual. “To be honest, I’m not so sure myself.”

“I see.”

It wasn’t exactly the greatest conversation, but it was something. He felt numb, still, but slowly it was like something had begun to thaw.

“It’s kind of funny,” Claire said, and immediately he averted his gaze towards her. She gave a little bitter chuckle. “When this whole mess started out, you were the first person I turned to when I was looking for Chris. Nowadays, he’s the one telling me what’s been happening with you.”

For some reason, that amused him. “I reckon they aren’t good stories.”

“Not really. More like updates in passing,” she said. “Sometimes when he tells me these things, I feel like he’s talking about some co-worker at the BSAA or some old war buddy. The Kennedy Report this, or Glenn Arias that. Like you weren’t someone I actually knew. And I sometimes wonder if I actually did.”

Perhaps it was because he drank too much, or because it was the middle of the night, but as she told him this the realization sloshed around a bit in his head, evading actualization. When it did, however, it was ice-cold—cutting through any shred of doubt he carried over the past 13 years or so.

Maybe she didn’t hate him after all.

“You’re always going to be the one I went through Raccoon City with,” he said, reassuringly. “Nothing’s going to take that away from us.”

“Well, we didn’t exactly spend much time together,” she said, a little ruefully. It reminded him of a kid going through a phase, to the point that it was almost cute.

“Doesn’t matter. It was still you,” he said, smiling. “This is probably gonna sound wrong, but back then, I was just glad there was someone out there who went through the same thing. That I wasn’t alone. That even when you were out finding Chris, I knew there was someone I could talk to about the outbreak.”

“Then why did you stop talking to me?” she asked, but this time it was devoid of all pain or anger. Now, it was a genuine inquiry, subtly laced with concern. He shrugged, a little guiltily.

“I dunno,” he said. “I guess I was in shock? Or maybe I didn’t want to hurt you or something. You had the whole thing with Sherry, and Chris, and... Steve, right? I dunno,” he continued, leading his head back on the sofa. “I guess I didn’t want to be a burden or something.”

She gave a small smile. It reminded her a bit of his Raccoon City self.

“You wouldn’t have,” she said, turning to face him. “I think, more than anything, it would’ve made things easier.”

Facing her, he couldn’t help but notice how kind she looked, how close they were. Kind of like their time in Raccoon City, when she was scared but trusted him nonetheless and he believed in her and wanted to keep her safe and how they both were before everything turned to shit. It was almost symbolic, in a way, as if the gulf between them had slowly closed in. That even in the years that passed, or the many partners he’d have, she would always be that one constant after all this time.

“And just so you know,” she said. “I didn’t just go here because Chris told me to. I think I always wanted to, but... I guess I just didn’t know how.”

It was surprising how much relief that gave him. “I guess that makes the two of us.” 

And for the first time since Harvardville, he heard her laugh.

Sometime after, she took care of Leon as she did Sherry—gave him water, stirred him towards an actual bed—and as she was about to head for the sink, he grasped her wrist, almost in a panic. 

“Claire, wait.”

The urgency in his voice brings her to him immediately.

“Leon? What’s wrong?”

“Are you leaving?”

She furrowed her brow, much like how Chris does when he’s conflicted. Sometimes she wonders if it runs in their family, this feeling of being torn.

She wonders if that’s all she really feels now.

“I can’t stay for long,” she said, quietly, placing a hand on his. “But if you need me, you know where to find me.”

Her heart felt so painfully full, like it would burst any second now. 

The way he looked at her seemed to bring her one step closer to that.

“Okay,” he said, in a half-doze. “And Claire?”

She leaned in to hear him more clearly. “Yeah?”

All he could muster was a soundless mumble before he fell asleep. And to an extent, part of her was glad he did. She had enough for tonight.

Before leaving, she tidied up things a bit—cleaned the dishes, cleared the bottles—and once things looked a little more livable, she placed a glass of tomato juice on his bedside table with a little note. 

She knows she couldn’t be there for him all the time, as much as she’d like to. But at least this should suffice.

When he first wakes up, he’s surprised at how mild his hangover felt compared to all the other nights. He could’ve sworn he downed two bottles of whiskey, but his body feels otherwise—it’s an enigma he couldn’t quite process.

His room doesn’t quite feel like his room, either. It’s much more... cleaner, even smelling of the fresh lemon Lysol he kept in his cabinet for God knows how long. Before he rattles his head for a culprit, however, the answer is right in front of him, written on a yellow post-it note.

Groggily, he reached for it and brought it up to his face, and but before he got to the signature, he already found himself smiling, knowing perfectly well who’d be responsible for this.

Leon,

Drink this glass of tomato juice once you wake up. As is. DO NOT SPIKE WITH VODKA. Sherry and Chris have my number in case you want to chat.

Love,

C

There’s something about the letter that makes him inextricably happy, and for the next few minutes, he just stared at it until Hunnigan called him for another round of scolding and an update on his whereabouts. He tried to talk his way out, as per usual, but afterwards he finds himself lithe and limber as he downs the tomato juice and prepares for the next mission.  

Claire is his friend again, and all is right with the world.

But there’s something that still isn’t quite right yet, however. Twisting in his gut ever so slightly, he had yet to decipher what this strange feeling was.

He’d find out soon enough.

Work after the holidays involved a lot of paperwork, as it turned out, with reports and projections and memorandums galore piling up as TerraSave prepared for the next five years of operations. Needless to say, it left a lot of them in a slump for a good part of the day—particularly Moira, who seemed bored out of her mind.

“These numbers don’t even make sense anymore,” she whined, stretching across her table. Claire just smiled.

“You’ll get used to it.”

The girl just pouted, giving the monitor a mournful scowl. Amused, Claire carried on with her report in silence, until Moira had stirred again.

“I think it’s high time for a break,” she said, with renewed vigor.

“Moira.”

“Come ooon,” she whined, still keeping a pleading grin. “We’ve been here for hours, Claire! We could play like a round of crazy eights or something.”

“Or maybe my daughter needs to get her ass back on the job,” came a good-natured voice, and Moira just pouted, watching as Barry came over to their cubicles.

“Dad.”

Claire couldn’t help but suppress a smile. “What’s up, Barry?”

“Some exciting news, for once. We’re back on the field next week.”

Moira let a whoop out into the air.

“Fuck yeah! I can finally get out of this cubicle!”

“You’ll still have to do the paperwork when you come back,” Claire teased, with the other girl sticking her tongue out in reply.

“I wouldn’t get too cocky if I were you though,”  Barry said. “It’s gonna be one of those joint missions, so we might have to dial it down a bit.”

“Joint mission?” Claire said, curiously. “Who are we going to work with this ti—”

Then she felt it, the cold hand on her shoulder that was neither Moira’s or Barry’s. With an uncharacteristic jolt, she gripped the hand and spun about, ready to face its owner—

—and found Leon Kennedy instead, with an impish smile.

A wave of indecipherable feeling crashed over her then and there, and  she froze, trying to retrace her bearings. “Good God,” she managed to say, bringing a hand to her forehead. “Leon, you scared me.”

“Just wanted to check up on my partner before the big meeting.”

“... Partner?” she blurted, the question hanging in the air.

“Yeah,” Leon said, casually. “Or, well, you’ll understand once we get to the meeting. See you in fifteen. Barry. Moira.” With a lithe nod of the head he greeted the two, disappearing as quickly as he came.

Baffled, Claire stared at where the man once was, as if to process everything that had happened. Barry just shrugged, continuing from where he left off.

And Moira smirked, a devilish glint in her eye as she looked over at the woman.

“What was that all about?”

She wasn’t sure she had the answer to that, either. But there was a warmth there, a lightness, and while a suitable explanation seemed elusive, something told her things were going to be just fine.

“I don’t know,” she stated, plainly, then turned to the younger woman with a smile. “I guess we’ll find out in fifteen minutes.”