Chapter Text
His voice is hoarse as the last bit of air in his lungs is expended on her name. There’s glass puncturing through the palms of his gloves as he puts all his weight on the shattered window’s frame, leaning as far as he can out into the rain. The lightning is the only light source and it’s inconsistent, hurting his straining eyes- an impossible task to search for a speck of blue at such a distance but the shock is settling in right next to panic and the tiniest familiar pang of premature grief.
Jill.
She can’t be gone.
Not her, not like this.
There’s no way down the cliff in time but he runs anyway. As if in a nightmare it seems like everything is slowed down, he half remembers radioing into base to tell them about Jill’s fall. Other than a brief confirmation of help on its way all he hears is his own harsh breathing and the pounding of his footsteps as he makes it to the bottom of the road and attempts to force his way through the foliage to the river. As he crashes through the brush and into the water he finally gets enough sense to stop before he’s swept away, flashlight beam desperately searching until sets of hands wrestle him from the water.
The pressure in his chest is building, not to be relieved until nearly five years later.
-
Her hands are clamped to his clavicle, feather white and feather light strands of hair that have come loose from her braid brush his face and half lidded eyes. Her eyes, so light there’s barely any blue- so familiar except for the panic in them, are inches from his. He’d thought he’d seen every expression she had but this is a new one, she’s whispering, or maybe shouting but not much is getting through. He’s been hurt before, badly, almost died too, but this feels like maybe he’s gone too far- this one finally might be it.
“Chris, no no no no-“ Claire, too is shouting for him, Rebecca’s high voice somewhere behind his head is stammering. There’s a lot of arguing he can’t process, cold beginning to seep into his fingertips.
“I won’t let you go.”
Jill, determined and teary eyed, swears as his eyes slide closed.
-
“She isn’t eating.” The orderly says as they look through the one way glass. Inside the tiny room, the cell rather, Alyssa lies as still as a corpse on the bare bed. Considered a danger to herself and others, she’s restrained to the bed and a guard is posted inside with her constantly. “She hasn’t tried to harm herself since that first night, but since then she’s refused any food we’ve given her.”
“What are you going to do?” Rebecca asks.
“If this continues we’ll have to look into tube feeding, but in reality the strength of will it would take to commit to starving yourself until you die would be pretty difficult. She’ll probably break sooner than that.”
“Oh.” Rebecca picks at her nails, wincing as the nail-bed bleeds. “I’d actually like to talk to her.”
“We can’t do that.” The orderly looks concerned. “We’re not authorized for that kind of thing.”
“I am, though.” A gruff voice says behind them.
“Barry!” The big man in question pats her on the head and as much as she doesn’t really like that she’s grateful to see him.
“Hey, kiddo.” He still calls her and Claire that despite both of them being almost fifteen years older than his oldest daughter. He laughs when she wrinkles her nose. “She can go in. I’ll take responsibility.”
Grudgingly the orderly calls the people necessary and gets the correct authorization. Barry pats her on the head once more as she mouths thank you at him before entering. She sits as directed in a plain plastic chair two feet away from the bed. Alyssa watches from the corner of her eye as the door opens, there’s a flash of surprise and something else that Rebecca can’t place in her eyes when they meet. She doesn’t return Rebecca’s greeting, turning her face to the wall.
“I’m not going to tell you anything.” She says eventually, in a small, hoarse voice.
“I figured.”
“Why… Why do you still care?”
“I don’t know.” Rebecca admits, shoulders curving forward defensively.
“It’s stupid. Probably why it was so easy to get close to you.”
“I just-“ Rebecca’s hands curl into fists, Alyssa’s watches from the corner of her eye with something like surprise. “Everyone thinks I’m naive. And it’s true- I guess, but I want to believe that people can still be good, and I’m not stupid enough to hope for everyone to suddenly stop being self-interested or anything, but I do think that people can be dealt extraordinarily bad hands in life and still make the choice to be better-“
Straightening her back she looks her former friend in the eye. “I’ve met people who were framed, people forced to make choices that hurt people, but I don’t think that makes a person evil until they themselves decide they’re too far gone.”
“I’m not some Billy Cohen, Rebecca. Being framed and being raised- whatever. It’s not the same. You should go. You’re right. You are naive, we weren’t even friends, you were a means to an end. You’re stupider than you sound if you believe we were anything else.” Alyssa turns her face back to the wall. “I probably won’t see you again, say your goodbyes and leave me alone.”
Trying not to look as wounded as she feels she swallows. Standing to leave Rebecca turns to her before she goes, thankfully her voice stays strong as she says, “you can still make a difference, do something better. Help us, please. You’re too- please. Don’t count yourself out yet. The world could use a mind like yours with the good guys for once.”
And she tries not to feel any spark of hope when for a split second Alyssa’s mask of indifference slips.
-
It’s been a nightmare.
Vulnus sclopetarium in the superclavicular fossa.
The clinical, insane way to say getting shot in the not-quite-neck. Not quite the neck proper but above the clavicle, millimeters from more important things, a hair's breadth away from beyond saving. Chris isn’t beyond saving now. He’s here, in the small government hospital given to the B.S.A.A. where she also is staying. Out of quarantine after five days he’s been moved to general populous and out of the ICU. Claire, with nothing but one stitch carefully hidden beneath her hair, is fine; the pair of them, Claire and herself- wait daily for Chris to wake up completely. For the doctors to finally stop sedating him.
If he was going to turn he would have done it by now. Is what Claire shouted after the first day, echoed by a more polite argument from Rebecca. Jill doesn’t argue, doesn’t know what to say.
If he was going to turn-
“He didn’t. He won’t.” Is what Claire says. Rebecca says nothing at all by ways of words of comfort or reassurance. Rebecca does seem to agree, but Jill can guess why she doesn’t offer any platitudes. I wouldn’t want you to do this. She had said. And she’d meant it. Jill can’t look her in the eyes though, and she doesn’t know if it’s guilt or anger at the judgment she’s sure she’ll see in them.
What if- Is a horrible thought. What if it just takes awhile… She’s had dreams, all the nightmares re-emerging from the corners of her tired brain showing her all of the what ifs, what monster she could have been responsible for. Nightmares that leave her screaming and cringing away from the night nurse.
The Uroboros-Tyrant-Chris lives in her nightmares as a horrifying what if. Across from her the real flesh and blood not-nightmare stirs.
Jill has waited days for this and yet the moment Chris opens his eyes, takes stock of where he is and half-smiles at her sleepily she feels like sprinting through the door. Running away from the reality of all that has happened, he almost died, she almost made him into a monster and he doesn’t know that- worse still the idea that he wouldn’t mind, he never minds and the weight of her own selfishness hits her hard like a punch to the gut. Breathless she stands, startled into stillness as Chris moves himself towards wakefulness.
Before he can say anything she un-glues herself from the floor and nearly sprints out the door. Claire, shitty coffee in hand, blearily looks at her as she almost runs headlong into her.
“He’s awake.” Jill says brusquely.
Claire fumbles the coffee, swearing when some of the scalding liquid spills over the back of her hand, “He’s awake!” any questions she was about to ask Jill are forgotten as she half-jogs half-runs towards Chris’ room.
-
The first time he wakes it’s only for a moment, hazy lights in a plastic world that his brain can’t make sense of. There’s a monitor that’s making an obnoxious amount of noise somewhere to his left and as he’s trying to understand why he’s in a hospital it all fades.
The second time he wakes he’s in a normal hospital room, somewhere in his neck pain is throbbing in a distracting rhythm and in the muted light coming from underneath the door he finally realizes the shape crammed in the chair near him is Claire. Consciousness doesn’t last long when the IV pole hisses and releases something that makes sleep come fast. At least it gives him good dreams.
There’s a comforting weight against his shoulder, pressure nestled into the crook of his neck and soft ticklish breath on his neck. Sleepily he looks down at the head of white hair and smiles. Wherever they are they must be alone, Jill is curled up close, legs tangled with his as she curls against his chest. Her fingers are twisted into the fabric of his shirt, as if even in sleep she wants to guarantee he’s with her. The rest of the scene doesn’t matter as his eyes slide closed again. Totally at peace.
Finally, he’s aware of light behind his eyelids as his brain catches up to reality, whatever dream he was having is fading quickly. When he finally decides to open his eyes and blinks the room back into focus- she’s there, still wrapped in his old jacket.
All Chris sees of Jill for days is her staring at him with a caught expression and her back as she flees.
He won’t admit to sulking, but his mood worsens the longer she stays away, Claire is his near annoyingly constant companion. She’s curled up in the uncomfortable armchair as the nurse tries once again to hook him up to an IV.
“Her project only half worked.” Rebecca says sadly the next day when she visits. “It didn’t linger in the bloodstream long enough to do anything but stabilize you, though you might be T resistant now, like Jill. Honestly, the fact that the G strain didn’t cause any problems- it’s so volatile, that really was a feat of bioengineering….”
Chris is trying to understand Rebecca’s grief, with mixed success. From what he’s gathered the stabilized G virus closed up the wound in his neck enough to keep him alive until real medical help could arrive. The wound is still tender and not fully healed, the trade off of not turning into a horrible monster was less rapid regeneration, a fair enough trade in his opinion.
The scientist responsible, Alyssa “Williams” is in custody, though she’s gone quiet for now; near catatonia as Claire describes it- and they haven’t been able to get any new information out of her. The way Claire and Rebecca tell it she’s still waiting for someone to come kill her in secret, shaking at any newcomers.
“I doubt you’ll have elevated healing like this for long, but that’s why they have to keep sticking you, they’re worried it’ll grow into your skin, sorry.” Rebecca says.
It’s been four days since he woke up, Rebecca visiting daily, Claire barely sleeping, and still no sign of Jill. He must be scowling because once the nurse leaves Claire, who he had thought asleep breaks him from his thoughts.
“She’ll come ‘round.” She yawns and unfolds herself, wincing as seemingly every joint pops.
He’s in no mood for this conversation, “Yeah, yeah.”
“I’d be hurt too though, if it were me.” She leans forward, elbows on knees to consider him.
Seems like she’s determined to talk it out. “Want me to find her?”
“No.” Scrubbing his hands over his face he ignores the pressure of hard plastic in his arm. “I just wish I knew what was bothering her, you know? What is she telling herself, she’s determined to feel bad about everything already.”
“Maybe she needs to work some of that out for herself. You can’t always be there to take everything hard from her.” He starts to protest and she cuts him off, “No, I don’t mean that you’re stifling her or whatever, or that you don’t think she’s strong enough. Just that Jill is… intense. She always seems to feel things intensely too, so even though you guys have that weird mind-meld thing going on she probably needs to figure this one out on her own.”
-
Jill has her own hospital room, a temporary thing since she has nowhere else to go at the moment- that she barely sleeps in. Curling up in the stiff armchair rather than feel exposed on the hospital bed, managing a doze at best as she starts at any sound outside the door. She retreats there now, she has nothing else to do and that itch to exercise her ability to go wherever she wants now that she has the freedom to is a blessing even if she doesn’t need it currently- she's looking for somewhere to hide, actually, when there’s a tentative knock on the door.
After a tense minute of trying to tell herself there’s no need to dive under the bed or try to escape out the window she gets out a strained, “come in.”
Rebecca makes her way inside, shutting the door behind her and standing almost flush against the wall, seeming as if she is also considering running.
“Whatever you want to say, you can just say it.” Jill says eventually after awkward eye contact.
“Okay. We weren’t exactly friends before, not like- well. Anyway, I get it. I don’t know exactly what I’m trying to say. I’m not apologizing for saying what I have, or haven't- but I am sorry that I’ve made you feel worse. I don’t know what it would be like if I was in your situation, I don’t have anything to compare it to, someone I care about in that way.” She looks just like a deer before it decides to run and Jill feels a little sorry for her. Rebecca sighs deeply and tucks her hair behind her ears, “I’m rambling, I just came here to say that I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re a bad person for saving someone you care about.”
There’s an uncomfortable beat of silence before Jill relents, “Accepted.”
Rebecca looks so relieved as she fumbles for something to say, stuck between waving goodbye and something else she flaps her hands for a second before settling on a double thumbs up before laughing at herself and Jill can’t help but quietly join in.
Before she leaves Jill says, “I’m sorry if you think I don’t like you.”
“Oh, uh,” Rebecca says, confused, “you don’t have to- you know, it’s okay.”
“If it helps, everything I can remember about you is positive, I guess past me took it for granted that you would just know that.”
“’Positive’,” Rebecca laughs a little. Shaking her head when Jill tries to reword, “No, it’s okay. I understand, I didn’t exactly make the effort to be friends either, you’re just so-“
She waves her hands around again and whatever she means by it is lost on Jill but she lets it go with a laugh. “Like two ships in the night.”
“Yeah, exactly.” And maybe this is a spotlight of communication between those two metaphorical ships, because even though this tiny woman is so wrapped up in almost everything wrong with her life at this moment, Jill feels fondness for her.
“I care about you.” Rebecca says with a small, awkward smile.
“We’re not exactly friends, but we care about each other.” Jill offers, and it’s the truth.
-
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Rebecca whispers as he’s on the edge of sleep.
Claire across the room hums, “I’m trying to be fair, but it’s pretty hard.”
“I know. Jill is upset with me too, even if she won’t say it. I get it.” Rebecca sounds sad but surprisingly strong. “I think it’s a miracle it worked, and I still stand by that I wouldn’t have wanted you to do it for me. I’m not going to apologize for voicing that.”
“I get it, or I think I do. They could take your doctorate away-“
“That’s not what matters to me.” Claire for once is silent. “What matters is that we as scientists have to toe the line and find balance between what we can do versus what we should do. That’s the whole point of ethics; Alyssa broke that code, everyone from Umbrella broke that code, Wesker, TriCell, all of them. Playing God hurts people. Just because this one time it worked out doesn’t mean that I’m not a part of that now.”
“… I’ll think about that.” Claire promises, making eye contact with him as he wakes up fully. She pats his hand on the way out the door.
This is the first time he’s been alone with Rebecca and she sits in her chair next to him with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Look, Chris, I’m- I’m sorry.”
Though he’s pretty sure he already knows, “For what?”
“For arguing against saving you, for not bothering to see Jill when she got here, for being friends with the person responsible and not even noticing-“
“Rebecca, I’m… hm. I’m not going to be mad at you for wanting to see the good in others, in wanting friends.”
“There’s no way you don’t blame me.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“I appreciate it.” A strained silence falls until he gives her a break.
“Did you find anything else out? While I was sleeping.” It’s the nicer way to put it and her mouth quirks up at the polite wording.
“The journal was gone by the time I remembered to look for it. Same with the notes for Alyssa’s project, the picture, all of it was gone. Alex Ivanov is gone too, and I doubt that was her actual name, so it’s not hard to guess what was going on.” Rebecca says, “but… someone, Ivanov I guess, left her coordinates to scare her. They’re for a graveyard in Estonia. We haven’t found out if anything important is there, but I think it was probably just a threat.”
“Some intimidation tactic.”
“It’s working.” Rebecca’s voice is small. “They’re going to have to put her on tube feeding tonight if she still won’t eat anything.”
-
Jill manages to avoid Chris’ room for five days with her own appointments; tense, teeth gritting affairs as that dark pool of rage simmers just under the surface. Rebecca shows up as support every time, inserting herself into Jill’s case and refusing to back down. Jill knows she’s trying to make up for feeling like she dropped the ball the first time around so she lets her stay, grateful for the champion. Eventually though she can’t dodge any more questions from Rebecca who clearly wants to know what is going on, why she hasn’t seen Chris, and she can’t stand the feeling of being a coward. She’s always prided herself on being able to face her mistakes, she can face this one.
Chris is awake and expectant when she enters, patting what little room there is to spare on the hospital bed and silently curls his fingers towards her. Reluctantly she takes his hand, smiling slightly despite herself as he reels her in to sit next to him.
“Good to see you.” His voice is rough and even though he isn’t accusing her of staying away it still makes her feel worse. He hasn’t let go of her hand and he squeezes once when she stays silent, staring at the floor. “You good?”
That spurs her into action and she stands quickly, pulling her hand free, the anger filled place that feels at home in her chest rises and she takes a step backwards shaking her head once to clear the feeling. “God, Chris, really?
“Please, please, don’t ask me if I’m okay. Not when you’re here, not when-”
“Alright.” Chris says quietly. “I won’t. Come back, please.”
She eyes the door again feeling the urge to run again.
“Jill?”
“Stop.”
“I’m not doing anything.” His serious face cracks a little as the corner of his mouth lifts. “You can go if you want to, of course you can, I’m not going anywhere soon. But I wish you’d tell me what’s hurting you.”
The retort comes easy, she wants to deflect, to leave, not to deal with any of this. But this is a moment, a moment of faith, of trust. How much does she trust him with the worst parts of her? With a sigh she takes his outstretched hand again and sits.
“I’m not sure I want to talk about it.” She says finally. “Or if I’m ready to, to put it better.”
“Whenever you're ready, then.” He sounds sure, causal, but Jill can tell that he doesn’t want to drop it. Wants to keep pushing the subject until it’s all hashed out and over with. Only thing being, Jill’s not sure everything that has happened can be untangled, be talked through as easily as that. He goes to adjust the hospital bed, mouth quirked in mild frustration as the buttons seemingly do random things. Taking pity on him she leans over to help, reaching past him to try her hand at the control panel only to be also thwarted, Chris laughing and trying to swat her hand away before his knees end up at his chest. His hand connects with hers, sending it to hit right on his bandage and he freezes, clear pain in his eyes as he sucks a breath in through his teeth.
“Oh, fuck, sorry-” She reaches for him trying to find a place that won’t hurt him further, ending up with a hand on his jaw in attempted comfort. Chris’ eyes are closed, trying to push the pain away-
-the sharp metallic smell of blood on clean laboratory floors hits her, she’s not in the hospital room anymore, she’s holding his neck closed as his blood pours between her fingers. The familiar inky darkness filled with pain and anger blooms suddenly and overwhelmingly.
His hands are on her wrists as she holds his head between her hands; they’re still not hers, her breathing is too harsh and she’s terrified for a second that she might have the strength to crush him-
No, I won't. Her eyes are closed as she tries to loosen her grip on him but they fly open in shock when he pulls her in firmly by the back of her neck and kisses her. Really kisses her. The fingers she has twisted into his short hair tighten reflexively before she forces them to relax.
“That was so stupid, I could have killed you!” She exclaims when he pulls away and she's calmed enough to speak.
"Yeah." He laughs softly with a small smile.
"That is hands down- that- that was worse than Prague!" He laughs at the shared memory of a comedy of errors on an otherwise serious mission involving a cartoonish chase pursued by feral dogs.
"Well, I hope it wasn't 'worse'." He jokes then sobers. "Should I apologize?"
"Apologize-? No, maybe just for your poor timing. Your gamble paid off. I'm still here."
“Good to have you with me.” And that phrase alone has weight. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before adding with confidence, “I’ll ask next time.”
If now is the time to be stupid- quickly she tips forward, resting a hand on his sharp jaw and kissing him thoroughly, enjoying his surprise for a second before he smiles against her mouth and despite being a completely new experience, kissing him feels just as easy as everything does with Chris. Easy and familiar.
"You don't have to ask. Next time I mean," Settling back she pats him once on the chest with a laugh that bubbles up from her chest unexpectedly. "I think we're past that."
“Yeah?” And when he smiles at her, it’s as if it’s ten years earlier and nothing has changed. There’s a pleasant quietness now, the promise of “next time” hangs joyfully between them.
-
“I’m sorry, sir. There’s no excuse, but she’s gone. We have no surveillance, nothing. She vanished. Nothing in the cell was broken, no one was harmed, she’s just… gone.”
The room is cold and quiet as the officer Chris introduces to them as Piers finishes speaking. Rebecca feels a chill go down her spine. Claire has both hands clasped at the back of her neck, one finger tapping the base of her skull as she takes it in. Chris and Jill have locked eyes, some sort of communication happening silently between them, all the while Chris is sitting too straight and Jill is holding herself in perfect defensive stillness.
“Thanks, Nivans. For letting us know.” Chris says eventually, a clear dismissal that the overeager officer takes well, saluting both Chris and Jill before leaving. It’s not the time to laugh, but still Claire catches her eye and they both have to hold it in at being snubbed.
“So.” Jill says, directed at Chris. “We can’t have assumed this would be over just like that.”
“But now there’s another piece.” He finishes the thought.
“Someone got in,” she gestures to herself.
Chris follows, “And got out without anyone seeing anything.”
“So what now?” Claire butts in.
“We wait,” Rebecca says before anyone else can answer. “We don’t have any proof of insider activity, just, well. Strong suspicions. We wait, see if we can find out the truth from the inside. Keep going like nothing is wrong until we know what’s happening.”
“It could take years for someone to show their hand, like Wesker and Birkin, all the way back in the eighties.” Jill counters with a frown.
“Maybe, but we can take those years too, do some real good with them. Scrambling to chase after rumors isn't going to help.” Rebecca is firm, “Let’s help the people we can and get ready. We’ll wait.”
-
Every day she’s getting more and more of her pieces back. She spends a long lunch with Barry, talking for hours, pouring over old times like drinking buddies. Acute stress, along with side effects from sedatives- is finally the solution given to her by doctors who seem to be guessing just as much as she is as to the source of her amnesiac episode. They assure her it most likely won’t happen again, that everything lost should eventually come back. It’s an okay answer. She’s trying to come to terms with it and the anger that seems too much a part of her now. It’s just as nebulous as her memories, she’s furious: at the world, Wesker, Excella, Alyssa, TriCell, Umbrella, all of it. A pointless, aimless rage that will take just as much time to work through as the time it took to happen. Years of her life were stolen from her. It’s not an easy thing to let go of.
Chris is angry too. Jill can feel it. It radiates off of him sometimes just like it must off of her, a matched set even in this. Still, he seems to be able to compartmentalize it better than she can. Maybe one day they’ll talk about each hurt, each injustice together; for now she can barely contain her own, let alone try and help his.
He’s given clearance to walk the grounds and they’ve turned it into routine, time together underneath the shelter of the trees. Far enough away down the winding path there’s a bench that is isolated and peaceful, they always make an effort to make it there and sit, sometimes talking and sometimes in companionable silence.
When they arrive and sit, softly he takes her hand and traces patterns into her palm in a soothing way.
“We’re quite a pair.” When she meets his eyes he smiles again, “you’re stewing on something, I can tell. Can we talk about it now?”
It’s an overflowing dam finally breaking loose, “I could have turned you.”
“I’m still here.”
“Don’t do that. We both know you never would do something like that to me, Rebecca was right, I stole from you a peaceful death.”
“That’s stupid.” She snorts but doesn’t pull away. His hand tightens around hers and she sighs, meeting his eyes. “It is. There’s no telling what I would do if it were you, but I know that I would do anything I could if it were you or Claire; if there was even a chance that you would make it, I’d take it.”
And there’s the man who ran across South Africa chasing after a whisper about a dead woman. It’s hard to argue with that kind of conviction. She’s about to protest out of reflex, the guilt of everything she’s done in the last five years hard to shake, when he taps her on the temple, startling her.
“If I wanted to guarantee a ‘peaceful death’ for myself I would have found a way to quit years ago. But I haven’t just yet, and I’ve come to terms that for now when I go, it might be awful. Just like everything else we’ve seen together.” He tucks a strand of fallen hair behind her ear, sliding his hand across her neck and leaving it there, a comforting heavy weight with his thumb softly at the corner of her jaw. “I’m not going to claim I’m any better at this whole ‘emotions’ thing, but you’re here. I’m here. Because of you. I found you- you saved me. That’s what we do. Even if we end up with crazy super strength sometimes, or healing, or whatever else. We’re still us.”
“What if I’m not sure who ‘me’ even is anymore? What choices would I have made if I hadn’t… What if I hadn’t jumped? I don’t need the amnesia excuse anymore to realize that I don’t recognize myself anymore.”
“Jill?” She shrugs, pulling away, staring at her shoes. “You aren’t what Wesker made you be. That was never you. You-” He taps her again on the temple then taps her breastbone, right above her heart. “You are here. And always have been. I’m glad you saved me, it was the call I would have made too. I know I would. You can start to try and let that go now, along with everything else.”
It’s not so simple as a weight lifted from her shoulders, there’s too much time, too much pain put into the guilt she feels to be completely gone. But, to her surprise she does feel lighter. It’s a start.
Blinking back tears she sniffs once and wipes her nose with the back of her hand, laughing wetly at Chris’ mostly joking grossed out expression. “Okay. I’ll work on that. This was supposed to be your ‘talk it out, get emotional’ moment. What happened.”
“Oh, I’m plenty emotional.” And he’s not joking, he’s smiling but there’s an undeniable roughness to his voice. “We’re here,” He holds her hand again, pressing a gentle kiss to the knuckles, “it feels like it might be almost over, you know? You’re finally back, you’re here."
“It’s not the end,” Jill warns. Chris shrugs in agreement.
“Yeah. I doubt it is, but… I think I’m ready to start thinking about retirement.”
Shocked, Jill moves to stand in front of him, “Are you serious?”
“I think I am, yeah. That kid, Piers, he’s got a lot of potential. I think I might start training him to replace me. It wouldn’t be for awhile, at least a year or two-” When she bends down and kisses him hard he pulls her as close as she can be standing between his legs, his hands at her waist holding her steady.
“A real date, when I get out of here, like normal people. How’s that sound?”
-
They go on that date.
They get away and back to Colorado to some semblance of a new normal. A month later Jill can confidently say that Calpurnia is now just as much her dog as Chris’. Her pictures and memories are displayed right next to Chris’, it’s not his place anymore, it’s theirs.
Turns out her hair is now permanently white, any attempt to dye it back to brown ending up a colossal waste of money, so instead she cuts it short to get some control back. She’s getting used to it, this ghostly version of herself, recognizing her reflection. Blackouts are rare, and they have a system down now to handle them. She's getting better every day; she’s learning how to manage her occasional elevated strength, unfortunately the P30 isn’t going anywhere- but at least she can stop worrying about breaking things when she’s upset. As far as she knows everything she forgot has returned, and if there’s little things still gone they matter way less compared to the life she has now.
Calpurnia, too docile for military work ends up being a perfect candidate for a psychiatric service dog, and though usually dogs are picked and trained as puppies the local service dog academy makes an exception. She’s excited every time Jill takes them to their weekly appointments, learning quickly and enthusiastically the behaviors tailored to Jill’s needs.
Chris still leaves on missions, but they’re shorter, and she always has a way to contact him when she’s left behind. She’s beginning to think he might be serious about retiring.
It’s a quiet night, and despite Chris’ grumbling at letting Calpurnia up on the couch her weight is comfortably crushing Jill into the cushions as they’re both dozing when Chris wakes her with a gentle hand on the side of her face. It’s amazing how feeling safe keeps some of the nightmares at bay, how six months of stability means less and less starting awake at the slightest noise.
He smiles at her when she opens her eyes, “Hey.”
“Hey. How was Australia?” She asks, sitting up and dislodging the disgruntled dog as she does so.
“Ugh.” Is all he says, and he looks exhausted. Calpurnia shakes herself before trotting off to her crate and Chris watches her go. Jill stands, leaning up on her toes to kiss him once before tugging on his hand to lead him to their bedroom.
“Rebecca is fine, she came back with me.” Chris says eventually, pulling his shirt over his head, wincing as the motion pulls on his left shoulder where a clean bandage is tied. His back is to her and he starts reflexively when her cold fingers trace one of the scars along his back, looking over his shoulder to give her a questioning look and a half smile. Jill shakes her head silently, content to just listen as he continues his story, unpacking his bag. “Nivans did well. Really well, actually. I… I talked to him about being my replacement.”
Jill stops tracing a large scar that tears through his bicep and rests her head in between his shoulder blades. “What’d he say?” She finally asks, winding her arms around his waist.
“He took it seriously, had a lot of questions. I think he’ll agree though. It wouldn’t be for at least another year.” He pats her clasped hands before turning in her arms to look down at her. “What do you think about it?”
In his voice is an unspoken, Would you come with me?
“It feels… weird. To quietly walk away, for both of us.” Chris hums in agreement. Honestly she’d thought they’d both be killed before retiring ever became a possibility.
“… I’m tired. I don’t know, maybe it’s selfish to leave when we both can still contribute, when something could still be going on… but- maybe it’s time to let other people try.”
They’ve saved the world enough times, right?
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