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It was so sudden; Chris didn't want to believe any of it. The words that had come through the phone receiver at 9:04 in the morning were lies. The man on the other end sounded bored and the brunet hadn't even bothered saying anything besides asking how.

How could Jill Valentine be dead?

In the line of battle? Out on a mission? Proudly doing what she loved to do?

No.

Jill was killed by a drunk driver coming home from work the afternoon prior.

So there Chris sat—his brown hair was dirty because he hadn't bothered showering and had barely gotten dressed that morning. He was dressed in his BSAA garb and he was to stand next to her coffin at the funeral. He was labeled as her next of kin so not only was he expected to speak, he was also to get her badge of honor and lead the BSAA members carrying the casket.

The pastor had finished and was looking at him expectedly more suddenly than he had wanted. Taking one large step, Chris shifted in front of the microphone and looked out at the small room of people; all were wearing some semblance of black and only some were crying. Chris had done his crying on the shower floor of his flat and he wasn't going to start again now.

Chris cleared his throat and straightened.

"I'm not going to waste time saying Jill was taken from us too soon because we all know she was robbed of her life by someone selfish," Chris began. He hadn't bothered to prepare a speech as he had known what he was going to say but whether the words would come out was the issue.

"Jill Valentine was family to all of us, sure, but she was true family to my sister and me. She was the first person I told anything to, she was my support, she was my best friend, sh-she was—" Chris cleared his throat, "She was strong, independent, and survived more than any of us could. Jill had social skills, she was impressive with a gun, and could break into any lock that you set her in front of. Sh-she was an amazing person," Chris whispered the last bit and looked down at his shaking hands on the podium.

"She never judged me, she always stayed positive, a-and—" Chris trailed off for a moment and looked back up, "That woman made it through Raccoon City in a skirt," he chuckled quietly. A small echo of similar breathy laughs appeared around the room before returning back to the uncomfortable silence.

"Jill wouldn't have wanted any of us crying but I'm letting her down one last time, I guess, because this is the second time I've had to bury my best friend and it's not fucking right," Chris said sternly, "Jill Valentine deserved better than this."

He muttered, "That's all I've got," and looked up at the room of people yet again to see just a bit of blond hair leaving the room.

He stepped away from the podium and the pastor took over quickly.

Before Chris knew it, the group of standing around a funeral plot and her casket was being lowered in while he looked on with dead eyes. When her casket hit the bottom, Chris looked away and found himself staring at a tall man with slicked back blond hair in a black suit leaning against a tree not too far from them. The sunglasses perched upon his nose hid his eyes but Chris knew the man was looking at him as his lips twisted into a half smirk and his hands were inserted into his pant pockets.

Albert Wesker had somehow survived Africa but the over injections of the antivirus to keep his virus under control had damaged him. He wasn't the same over powered jackass he had been and the two had even met on occasion since Wesker had, essentially, reverted to his STARS body and was now taking mercenary work on the side. Wesker knew who was where and when and the BSAA used his 'anonymous' information quite well when needed considering the man was pricey.

Chris was told the virus had altered his mind while he was overpowered but he wasn't sure if he believed it—Jill did, though.

Chris didn't do anything upon seeing him—in fact, he didn't move from his spot and neither did the man.

"Not today, Wesker," Chris whispered so quietly that he was sure the others around him couldn't hear over the pastor's prayer.

Wesker gave a nod of understanding but remained and Chris eventually stopped staring at him and focused on praying for Jill. With his hands interlocked in front of his and his head bowed, he quietly hoped that there was a heaven out there because if anyone deserved it, it was her. He never really believed in anything but the idea she was out there somewhere dancing away the afterlife gave him a little bit of hope.

"—Amen," the pastor finished.

Chris opened his eyes and the blond was gone.

The drive home for Chris was quiet and lonely. He made a deal with the BSAA to get her phone information so that he could continue to pay her phone bill and hear her voicemail—to hear her voice. So, once the brunet got home, he stripped from his BSAA clothes and with no shirt and jeans, he laid in bed with his phone calling her over and over again. Chris stared at the ceiling with tears dropping from the corners of his eyes until he heard his front door creek.

Chris chuckled dryly and waited until he felt eyes on him before he called out what made the noise—

"You're losing your touch," Chris mumbled.

"Perhaps," Wesker answered from the doorway, "You should focus more on yourself."

"What are you going to do—kill me?" Chris scoffed, "Go ahead."

"Now, why would I do that?" Wesker asked with a hum.

"Wesker, I don't care what your plan is," Chris sat up and looked at him with his dead eyes and his muscular but weak body from days without food, "Put a gun to my head, pull the damn trigger, and leave me for someone to find. Just don't let it be my sister," Chris growled.

"I am not here to kill you, Christopher," Wesker stated simply, flipping the light switch beside the door to illuminate the room as it was getting late in the day.

"Why not?"

The words were more of a plea than anything. He spoke in a whisper that cracked with emotion and his eyes dripped with another silent tear.

Wesker didn't respond and remained still for a moment. He watched Chris scoff and lie back down as more silent tears fell. He watched the man break over and over again and looked at him sadly through his dark glasses. Slowly, he removed the shades from his nose and tucked them away in his breast pocket.

"You are correct, Christopher," he said, stepping into the room.

"I'm sure I am," Chris responded sarcastically but his eyes remained on the ceiling until he felt the bed dip.

"Miss Valentine did not deserve this," Wesker stated quietly.

Chris looked at him in disbelief and the two sat there staring at one another.

"What?" Chris finally asked.

"A drunk driver was not the way someone of her talents deserved to go. She was a soldier and deserved to die in glory. I apologize for your loss, Christopher," Wesker continued, "But you also do not deserve this. You have known loss and yet you go on."

Chris was quiet but the comforting words lingered.

"Your parents, STARS, your friends—"

"Piers didn't deserve to die either but at least he died for the greater good. STARS died protecting a whole city and nobody would have gotten out of Raccoon City if it weren't for them. Jill? She died because some asshole couldn't stop taking shots or some bullshit," Chris scoffed.

"Take comfort in knowing he has been dealt with," Wesker stated.

"What?!" Chris shouted, jumping to his feet, "Wesker, I don't know what your game is but it won't work. You can't kill people just because they made a mistake, even if it costs someone's life!"

Wesker smirked and Chris growled under his breath.

"Relax, he is safe. I was simply testing you to make a point," Wesker responded.

Chris glared at the blond before sitting back on his bed in anger.

"And what exactly was your point?" Chris asked pointedly.

"My point was simply that nothing can change how you feel—not even revenge. Life may not be fair, Christopher, but she was happy and saved many lives. I implore you to consider your actions before you do something you, perhaps, would not normally," Wesker said.

"I'm not going to hurt myself," Chris mumbled.

"No—" Wesker answered, "—But you may want to eat at some point."

Chris sighed and shrugged.

He didn't want to admit it but Albert Wesker was right.

"I know," Chris muttered.

"Join me for dinner, Christopher," Wesker stated.

"Why?" Chris asked carefully.

"I like you," Wesker said matter-of-factly, "and perhaps you shouldn't be alone."

Chris sighed and shrugged again.

"Sure."