Sooo...This is something that has been bothering me ever since playing the games. They start out by working together, he betrays them all...unrelenting hatred being harbored by both sides...and then she ends up being controlled by him in the last game? Well, I had some theories, probably not the best, but hey what is fanfiction for? Here is my take on what happened in all that time Jill and Wesker were stuck together.

Chapter 1

Savior

Everything hurts. Pain is surging and pulsating through every nerve existing in my body; right down to my toes and fingertips. It feels as if my body is shattered. Moving just a single finger sends new and sharper waves of pain through me. Breathing air is so difficult and sharp pains stab me in my chest when I intake air. Why can't I move anything? I want to die. It's too excruciating to be awake, to be alive. It hurts to even open my eyes to my surroundings. Darkness, the dull sound of rain echoes through my head. I suddenly become aware I am soaked from rain and lying in a pit of mud. Hands. I feel hands on my body. He's calling my name...Chris? Chris!..Is that you?.It's so hard to speak. Please, just get me out of here. Do something. Help me! It hurts so much...

{September 23rd, 2006. 1:20 A.M.}

She was alive. Falling thousands of feet hadn't killed her where if it had been anyone else, they surely would have died upon impact. Wesker knelt by her side, checking her vitals. Jill's heartrate was weak, her touch clammy and a fair amount of blood loss. For trying to kill him like this, Wesker wanted to let the bitch lie here and rot. Fury burnt through every vein as he realized how close he finally was to killing Chris and then she had to ruin it for him. A small murmur came from her lips but it was so soft and inaudible he could not make it out. While his body went through an extensive amount of his energy and stamina to heal itself, he was not in such bad shape as poor Jill was. Having regenerative abilities was helpful for him, but for her...lying here in the mud, dirty and broke must be extremely painful...painful enough she could not even speak coherently. Wesker grimaced as he nudged her with his boot to see hardly a reaction to it. What to do with her? Leaving her now and allowing the slim chance Chris would find her and get her back to their base was a risk he wished not to take. Given their location and how far the next town was, how would he walk to it by himself and with her? Wesker reached into his coat's pocket and brought out the sleek phone. It was completely smashed to pieces. Buttons were missing and it was in three parts. The useless, broken phone was thrown to the mud as he sighed. Knowing bones would be broken, he carefully picked her up into his arms and carried her. There was more muttering from her cold lips and she placed her arm around his neck. It seemed to have taken a great deal of effort for her to even move her arm but after doing so, her face relaxed and he knew she passed out again. A quick shake of his arms and she didn't wince or move.

{September 24th, 11:20 P.M.}

It was warm. Pain still dominated every part of my body...but I knew wherever I was, it wasn't in the mud and it wasn't raining. My eyes opened to see a white ceiling over my head. Rolling my head to the side, I could see white pillows and green covers. I was not familiar with this place and could not think of anywhere that would look like this. The window beyond the bed had its white shades closed and from the lack of light trying to break through them, I deduced it was still night. Where was Chris? I moved my head to the other side and found no one was in the room...this was not even a hospital room. The nightstand at the bedside had only a cheap lamp resting atop of it. This was a hotel...but why would Chris bring me here in this condition? I needed treatment! A hospital!

Wesker carried a tray of various items to the nightstand. Jill was awake and staring at him but as it appeared, unable to voice her complaints. As he set the tray down, her eyes looked over the items; rolls of gauze, tweezers, a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, saline, medical tape, ACE bandages, Neosporin and scissors. The fact he even got these items meant he had intention of helping her and the condition she was in. Wide, terrified eyes returned back to him though and the first aid equipment was forgotten. Wesker sat at the edge of the bed gazing down at her. The gentleness he was showing her scared her the most. "You're filthy," he remarked. It earned a hardened glare when he said that and it almost made him laugh. Almost.

"That's the Jill I know," he said as he got up. The covers that had been keeping her warm were cast aside as he picked her up from the bed and carried her to the bathroom. It was all very confusing for her to believe. Wesker was planning on treating her wounds and helping her live. She was set carefully on the toilet seat as he ran the bath and wetted a towel. "I need you to take those clothes off so you can be washed down," he explained. The mere thought of being naked in front of her most hated enemy was sickening. No time was wasted as he huffed with impatience and tugged her pants off and her socks. It was amzing how much blood had been lost, staring at the dry rivulets and smudged dirt. Being half naked was not the worst part...as he wet the towel with warm water, he was careful with washing her thighs and calves down. She was half expecting him to rip the clothes clean from her body and throw her into the tub full of water to wash her.

Watching him do this, she noticed his eyes never looked up to her and he concentrated hard on making sure the wounds were cleansed of dirt and unneccessary debris. After her legs were down and cleansed of dirt and blood, he went to remove her shirt. When her arm lifted, she cried out in intense pain. ifting it was so much more painful than what she had felt while lying in the mud. Wesker stopped lifting the shirt off and tore the collar of it to inspect her. Deep bruising and swelling had occurred in her shoulder. "It seems you might have torn the rotator cuff...if not have snapped the ball and socket joint," he commented. Before she could say anything he had disappeared from the room and returned with scissors. The blades glided easily up her shirt as he cut it open so she wouldn't have to move her arm. Wesker stopped a moment and stared at her naked torso...and muttered. "And perhaps...broken ribs," he flicked her a glance before taking the towel and cleaning her arms, torso and back. Jill said nothing and only watched him closely, making sure he made no inappropriate moves...and he didn't. Everything about him, it was completely professional. Why was he doing this?

" Get up," he ordered. Jill could not see a reason to protest and followed him to the room with the towel clutched to her breasts. He motioned to the bed for her to sit on and she did, her eyes still on him. It puzzled her why he didn't kill her. As weak and incapacitated as she had been, it would have been easy. Seeing Wesker kneel before her was surreal. The whole situation was surreal that she was hoping she was dreaming.

This is only a bad dream! I'll wake up in the hospital soon, with a cast, IVs in my arms and Chris waitign at my bedside for me to wake up! I'll be receiving the best medical treatment money and insurance can offer! Wesker is dead...I'm supposed to be dead. I cannot be trapped with him, I just can't be...sacrificing my life was supposed to guarantee his death. Why are both of us alive?

Thoughts trailed off as she focused on the twinges of pain in her calf. Tweezers held up a large piece of pebble and was placed on an open towel on the floor. She only realized how cut up she truly was when she caught sight of her exposed legs. Pieces of rock and glass embedded under her skin where swelling was trying to take place, cut and gashes of different degrees crisscrossing over her flesh...she deduced she looked like complete hell. Trying to remain still was difficult and jerked only when the tweezers had to reach deep under the skin to retrieve the debris. When Jill would jerk her leg in pain, Wesker would only pause and wait before carrying on.

The time melted away and once he was done tending to her legs, the tired and exhausted Jill noticed sunlight fighting its way through the closed blinds. Morning had arrived and he was oblivious to it. Hands searched over her legs, inspecting for anymore rock fragments or glass. Satisfied, he wiped them down with alcohol to cleanse them. The liquid stung like a thousand small needles. Jill hissed loudly, and recoiled her legs from Wesker's touch. The blonde haired bastard finally tilted his head up to give her a direct look. The glare set in those fiery eyes hushed her up and she relaxed. It was beyond humiliating to receive care from a sworn enemy, much more from a man whom she had worked under that ended up betraying her and her team. It was shameful and embarrassing. This very man she loathed with every bit of energy and being, was treating her wounds. She watched as he ripped open a pack of gauze. Liberal amounts of the Neosporin was squeezed onto her legs and rubbed over evenly. The gauze was wrapped around gently and sealed with medical tape. It amazed Jill how gentle and careful those murderous hands were in tending to her wounds. A sigh of relief escaped Jill's lips as he finished with her legs...then her short-lived term of peace was interrupted by Wesker's clicking tongue.

"I sincerely hope you do not think we're finished. Take a good look at your arms, " he informed. Indeed the forearms were riddled with swollen lumps. A defeated sigh rolled off her lips as she rested a forearm on the nightstand. Wesker sat by it, and under the lamp's glow, began the slow, torturous work on her arm.

By time he was done with her arms, time had elapsed into the early afternoon. The arms were washed down in alcohol before the Neosporin was applied and the gauze wrapped around them. She surmised by time Wesker was done, she'd be a mummy. To top it off, she felt lightheaded and nauseous. The brain seemed to pulse against her skull and Jill was losing count of how many times it did this. Watching her glazed eyes, he reached for a small flashlight and tilted her head up. The light burnt to look into and she winced away. The rough hand grabbed her chin and this time, forced her to look into the light's path. The pupils were dilated and it was not a good sign. once the flashlight was set aside, his fingers slipped into her filthy, tangled tendrils of hair, their tips searching her scalp. They stopped when they came to a lump. It was large and there was a deep gash there. Luck seemed on their side. The bump he felt was onyl swelling around the gash and not a hemorrage. Without an explanation, he stood anf left Jill alone for no more than five seconds .Upon his return to her, Jill noticed he now held a pair of scissors; the same ones he used to cut her shirt open. Instinctively, her hands covered her head in fear. Wesker tilted his head slightly at her attitude.

"You have a gash on your head. I will need to cut some hair away to get to it and doctor it...unless you want it to get infected," he explained. The unusual patience in his vioce seemed to unconsciously sooth her into relaxing and lying her hands in her lap. The sound of the blades snipping hair away pierced through her ears. Jill watched as dirty, brown strands of her hair fell to the floor. A gasp filled her lungs when she felt cool liquid washing over the exposed scalp. It didn't burn and glimpsing the bottle he sat back down, realized it was only saline.

He's being so gentle, and professional about this...what does he want from me? I wish I could think of him kindly as I did in S.T.A.R.S...but even that had been a lie. He never was good or innocent...and I'm in no position to fight back. Am I doomed forever to be at his mercy? The mercy of this despicable monster whose never been honest in his whole life?

Once thw wound was cleansed of loose debris, dirt and blood, he got her up and walked her to the bathroom again. "Head over the sink," he ordered. A glare was directed at him before she obeyed. Cool water hit her scalp and was washing all the caked mud and blood from her once silky hair. The brown water swirled down the drain as Wesker made sure to wash the dirt out. The water helped to disguise Jill's sobs and tears.

Once cleansed, her hair towel dried and the gash on her head bandaged, Wesker went to wrap the ACE bandages around her rubs to help keep them in place to heal correctly. The fact all this time she had been naked in front of him hardly registered. There were no perverted glances from him or even one inappropriate brush of his hand on her body. The metal clip fastened the bandage together and felt very snug. Jill watched as he pulled out a T-shirt of black and some loose fitting sweatpants. She allowed him to dress her and still could not understand why he was helping her. Her savior was the most unlikely person. Sitting in the loose attire, her eyes watched as he unrolled another ACE bandage and began to make a sling around her neck and arm to support her shoulder. By time the whole "operation" was done, the clock was striking three in the afternoon. Loud growls emitted from her empty stomach. Finally cleaned, bandaged up and relieved, it was timt to tend to the hunger pains. How? The whole time she hadn't spoken a word to him...afraid the moment she did, the spell of kindness would shatter. As he picked up the large pile of broken glass and rock to dispose of, Jill fidgeted uncomfortably, determined to keep her eyes on the floor. A buzzing sound in the small kitchen caught her attention and she looked up. It was a microwave. A delicious smell began to fill the air, making her stomach rumble expectantly. When the timer went off, she watched as Wesker took out a cup and brought it to her. It was a cup of hot soup to drink. As she wrapped her fingers around the cup, lowering her head again, she could no longer let this continue on in silence.

"Why?" Jill croaked out with her broken voice. The look Wesker have her set fury to her veins. That mocking, smug gaze that made her feel like a simple child.

"Tell me! Why not let me die there? You been trying to kill us for so long! You had your chance to finish me off!"

Those red eyes narrowed and looked murderous as he stood from his seat. His height was intimidating and she cowered but only a bit. Defiance was beginning to give courage to retaliation.

"Don't think for an instant I never let that thought cross my mind, Jill," he hiss angrily. " As for killing both of you, you are mistaken. Chris was the one I wanted to kill, but you fucked that up for me!"

A silence fell between them and Jill looked down at the cup of soup, fidgeting again. It didn't make much sense, because she was there in the beginning with Chris. Many of Wesker's plans were set back or completely ruined due to Chris' interference. A lot of the fault lay in Chris' hands, but it didn't exclude her. Jill had a hand in interfering with his plans and last night had nearly killed him with her suicidal attempt to stop him. Why did he seem to only hold Chris responsible?

"In fact, for me to decide to save you, fix you up and remotely be concerned with your well being, you should be on your knees groveling me," Wesker spat. It did strum a heartstring in her when he mentioned that...but what price was she going to have to pay in the end for his "help"? In all their confrontations, she was always pushed aside by him as he zeroed in on her partner. She jumped out a window with Wesker to kill him and got saved for it! If Chris had done the same thing for her, he would still be in that cold, dark chasm, covered in mud, broken and forgotten only after Wesker made damn sure he was dead. The two were silent; inhuman eyes staring down at her and azure ones never looking higher than the floor. "How long was I out?" she asked calmly. It was a while before he answered her question.

"Twenty two hours," he informed. No longer concerned with their tense dispute moments ago, she snapped her head up and looked him directly in the eyes, thinking it was incredulous to have been out that long. "Really? That long...?" Jill asked sheepishly. A single nod of his head confirmed her answer. It hadn't seemed that long. All this time she had thought last night was the same night they fell from that mansion...but it did explain how he had the time to pick up the first aid supply, clothing and look unusually clean for having been in mud too. The warm cup was warming her hands and she became aware again of the soup. A sip was taken from it and it warmed everything on its way down to her stomach. Fingers rotated the cup nervously, her eyes staring into the gold colored broth.

"Thank you..." she said unwillingly. No matter what he did, common manners dictated you thank whoever helps you. There was no response for a couple of minutes that passed by. Once he sat on his own bed, he murmured something that most would have never caught. Jill did...it was truly a surprise he could say, "You're welcome," to anyone.