Jake wasn't completely human. He was faster, he was stronger, and he was tougher than your average human being. He never really had to work out or worry about what he ate, and he could smoke and drink to his heart's desire without having to worry about his body being affected. He was practically the Nietzscheian dream of physicality.

Why couldn't he beat Redfield, then?

He pumped his fists towards Chris' face as quickly as he could, but Chris moved gracefully between each blow and even managed to respond with a blow of his own, nowhere near as strong as Jake's but -as Jake would soon learn- a well-placed blow to the solar plexus didn't need much strength to it. Jake staggered back a few steps as Chris followed with a solid uppercut that took Jake completely off-balance. Jake moved back as quickly as he could to keep Chris from closing the distance and throwing him off balance.

When Chris finally closed in, Jake had regained his balance and caught Chris' oncoming fist and followed by attempting to grapple his arm, but Chris was far more agile than those muscles implied. With a turn and a twist of his arm, Jake went flying over Chris and landed flat on his ass on the floor.

"One more round." Jake said.

"Tomorrow." Chris said, leaning down to offer Jake a hand. "In fact tomorrow, you're switching teachers."

Jake, being Jake refused the hand and decided to get up himself. "Switching teachers?" Jake said. "Looks to me like you can deal with a few more fights with me."

"It's not that." Chris said. "I think I've been going to easy on you. I haven't been pushing your limits enough. You need someone who can push you to your limits, force you to actually apply all those lessons I've been trying to push into you."

"So this guy..." Jake asked. "He's better than you."

"Sure is." Chris said. "And she'll be here to show you a few pointers tomorrow. But for now, let's hit the bar."

.-

If Jake had ever said he liked Chris Redfield it would be a lie big enough to start another zombie outbreak. He was a whitebread moralizer, drank the shittiest pale-ass American beers, and would not fucking shut up about Captain America. (Redfield kept insisting that Jake 'had to read the Brubaker stories!' whatever that meant. Jake somehow found equal parts annoying and boring as mayonnaise.

Redfield -was- a good dude though. He was honest, straightforward... he only wanted to help people.

Plus he paid for drinks.

And so they came pretty late to the B.S.A.A.-funded bunks singing Beatles songs a bit too loudly as they went to their own rooms. B.S.A.A. rooms were nice. Not exactly hotel rooms, but good mattresses and a nice walls. Jake tried to stay awake most of the time and refrain from falling asleep just to enjoy one of the nicer rooms he was now regularly sleeping in.

There was another reason he hated sleeping though.

Because when he did, he dreamed about her.

Jake tried his hardest not to think about Sherry Birkin. It should have been easy. After all, it had been months since they last spoke. Sure enough though, every time his head hit the pillow there she was. She was there. Sometimes she was wearing nothing and they shared a bed. More curiously, sometimes she was fully clothed and they were doing the most fucking normal things. Getting food, watching TV, cleaning guns. Those kind of dreams pissed him off the most. He didn't know what that shit was like. Why did he dream about that?

Maybe it was because it was the kind of life he wanted. The kind of person he wanted to be? It was a painful truth that as he was he could not be the kind of man that could or would make Sherry happy. He could punch out monsters and keep her safe during snowmobile chases, but he couldn't be the man to stay.

Girls didn't go home with the badass, they went home with the guy who stayed around when the fighting was done. Jake was the kind of guy who went looking for another fight afterwards. That wasn't the kind of guy Sherry needed. She had more than enough fights.

Jake finally fell asleep. And he dreamed more than he wanted to.

.-

"I don't like this, Chris." Jill said, looking her boyfriend in the eye. "Do you know who that is that you're training?"

"A lost kid." Chris said. "Somebody who needs as much help as possible."

"That's the son of Wesker in there." Jill said, her tone serious. "He could be the person to throw this damn world into chaos again."

"Which is why he needs a guiding hand." Chris said patiently. "Rebuking him would just make him more of a wild card. Here we can watch him. Help him."

"Dammit Chris this isn't some saturday morning special!" Jill said. "Evil like that doesn't just die. It's residing in him."

"People don't just start out evil, Jill." Chris protested. "Other people make them that way."

"Wesker made him." Jill said.

"Not in any way that's important." Chris sighed. "I know how you feel but-"

Jill was out of her seat and had grabbed him by the collar. "No you don't!" she snarled. "You don't have any idea... any idea what he did... what he made me do!"

Chris looked at Jill for a moment. He was stunned by her sudden outburst, but he still realized he had to tread carefully. He brought his hands up to hold hers gently.

"No... I don't." he said. "I shouldn't have said that. But listen. Jake isn't Wesker. If treat him like a ticking time bomb then that's what he'll be. We need to show him some trust."

Jill loosened her grip on Chris. "Maybe you're right." she said. Her hands fell to her sides, almost as though her shoulders had been dislocated. "But it can't be me Chris... every time I look into his eyes, every time I have to think about anyone related to that man..."

Jill hung her head, almost as though she were ashamed of herself. "I understand..." Chris said. He really did, and his voice hung with the weight of realizing his mistake. What he had asked Jill to relive. "I'm sorry. I never should have-"

"No, it's alright." Jill interrupted. She looked up at Chris and gave him a peck on the cheek. "You couldn't have known. You wanted to help him. I wish you thought through better, but..." she paused. It would have been better if she had kept screaming at him, slapped him... it would have been more like Jill to do that.

Chris had never thought of the way it had affected him. God, how awful was he?

"I should have thought..." Chris said. "God, Jill... I'm so sorry. If you ever need anything... any help..."

"Ease up there, Redfield." she said. "We both know you're no psychiatrist. Don't worry. I'll figure this out."

"I just want you to know I'm always here for you." he said.

"Of course you are." she said. "Chris you've literally saved my life before. A few stupid things are never going to change you, and it certainly won't change the fact that I love you." She tightened her hug a bit. "You're a good man."

"And an idiot."

"Definitely." she said. "My idiot though."

Chris sighed. "I guess I need to figure out a plan B."

Jill gave a mock-disappointed sigh. "It's going to be a little cold without you."

Chris gave a small smile. "It can wait until morning."

.-

Leon had one question for the caller ."How did you get my number?"

"Claire gave it to me." Chris explained and immediately followed with. "Don't hang up yet!"

Chris and Leon were anything but friends. The last time they had met face-to-face they had guns pulled on each other. "I'm guessing this isn't a social call."

"I've got a trainee who needs some serious showing of the ropes." Chris explained."I figure he'd handle a more casual touch better."

"I'm kind of busy at the moment." Leon said. "I've got a case coming up and I can't really take time off to train greenhorns."

"Don't worry." Chris answered. "This guy's seen action. He might even be able to help you, since you've worked before."

"I doubt it." Leon says. "I don't work with partners very often, and I doubt he had the tits the last one did."

"You don't remember a guy from China?" asked Chris. "Buzz cut, nasty attitude, was dragging around a tiny blonde."

There was a pause on the phone. "Muller's joined the B.S.A.A.?"

"I know. I was shocked too." Chris said. "But ever since the Estonia incident we've been seriously understaffed and he's someone we could use. And I imagine whatever job you've got planned probably could use a B.S.A.A. liason."

Leon swore underneath his breath. "What's the real reason you're asking this, Redfield?"

"None honestly." Chris said. "The kid needs help. And I'm not exactly the fatherly type-"

"And I am?" Leon answered.

"No, but he'll respond better to you than..." Chris paused. "Than the man who killed his father."

Leon sighed. "Tell you what. You get the paperwork through, I'll help junior get his ears wet."

"Great." Chris said. "No need for kid gloves. Throw him in the deep end?"

"Redfield, not only is it always the deep end with us," Leon responded. "It's a freaking high dive."