-1Jill lies in bed, alone, cold, in the dark. There's no one else in the room beside her, not like there normally is. She's missing a certain someone, a certain someone with short, dark hair, and handsome blue eyes, a devilish grin, and a penchant for kicking Umbrella's ass.

She sighs and reaches out, touching the pillow where his head should be lying, caressing it instead of the brown locks. This is where he should have be; not lying at the bottom of an ocean to be the food for whatever fish is passing by at the time.

The pain hits her harder than the others know, than the others can see. It's hitting her every second with the weight of a train, carrying lorries, carrying set cement with steel girders embedded in it. It's clenching her heart in a steel fist, the coldness settling all over her body. She's numb, though if it's the pain of loosing him, or the cold room she's not sure. She'sshaking for the same reason, though the tears refuse to come.

She won't let herself have that pleasure. Crying means he's gone for good, that he won't walk through the door, growling at Carlos for eyeing his girl / his sister / the medic, carrying pizza from the downtown Pizza Hut. Crying means he won't be here in bed anymore with her, turning the cold room into a sauna with their midnight activities. Crying means…it's over.

She can't help herself anymore. The tears trickle out, one by one, flowing down her face to drip onto the pillow, and before she knows it, she's sobbing, clutching his pillow, inhaling his scent, weeping over her heartbreak. He isn't coming back, he'll never pick another fight with Umbrella, he won't lead them anymore…won't tell her how much he loves her, won't ever hold her during the night…It's over.

--

In the morning she's sitting alone at the table, a lukewarm cup of coffee in her hands. His favourite - milk, three sugars. She always told him he'd get fat with three sugars. He'd laugh and give her a kiss, then tell her she'd get fat if she kept hogging all the chocolate biscuits.

A tear threatens to fall but it's blinked away as Barry appears and flicks the kettle on. His eyes refuse to meet hers, too ashamed. Barry tried to save him, been too slow, and now the guilt is slowly eating away at him. He hasn't looked at Jill ever since.

He hasn't slept, and the black bags under his eyes are showing it. He sits down across from Jill, waiting for the water to boil. He stares down at the table, trying to take an avid interest in the way the varnished wood twists into knots but it's just not working. Slowly, he lifts his eyes and they meet Jill's.

Suddenly the words start coming.

"Jill, I'm sorry -"

"Barry don't -"

"If I'd -"

"Barry please -"

"Jill, I just ha-"

"Barry enough!" Jill pushes back the chair and stands up, hands flat on the table. "I realise you miss Chris as well, but please, just can we not talk about this?!"

"O-of course Jill…I'm sorry." Barry looks down at the table again. He's beginning to understand Jill's pain must weight heavy on her if she can't even talk about the man she cares…cared for. Is she blaming herself? Probably, he reasons. But if I'd been faster then he'd be here with us.

The kettle's finished boiling, so he stands and sets about making himself a cup of tea.

Claire's bedroom door opens and she steps out, eyes puffy and cheeks wet. She's had no sleep either. She wasn't there to see her brother die. All the memories she has of him are happy ones, and she's thankful he's not repeatedly falling to his death behind her eyelids like Jill says is happening to her.

"Jill…" Claire finds herself standing beside the B&E specialist, half whispering, half croaking the words out. "Jill, I miss him so much…"

"I know, I know Claire…I do too." The brunette stands and embraces the red-haired sister of the man she loved, each taking comfort and strength from the other.

Barry takes one look at the grieving pair and leaves the room, the tea sitting half made on the sugar and tea-stained bench. He can't take this anymore. The guilt, the grief, it's not right. They shouldn't be doing this.

Everything falls to Barry now, to lead them, to get them to finish the mission. If he lets them wallow then nothing good willcome of it, only weakness. They will mourn later, when that blond bastard is dead.

Barry opens the door to Jill's room and shuts it behind him. His old friend once told him if anything should happen, there would be a letter under the pair's mattress that would help. Barry just hopes it will, because if it doesn't then nothing will.

He lifts the mattress and sees the brown envelope, along with a shotgun visible through thebe bars, lying on top of a green STARS bullet vest and a blue beret with the STARS logo. Barry momentarily smiles at the sight, old, happy memories resurfacing, only to be torn away by harsh reality. He grabs the letter and drops the mattress, sitting down to stare at the messy scrawl addressing the envelope.

To Barry and Company, in case :

A: The shit hits the fan

B: I die

C: Both of the above

Barry smiles at the bluntness. Typical of the man, really. Always trying to make light of a situation. Barry just flips the envelope and opens it carefully, not wanting to damage the contents inside. He hasn't got a clue what he'll find. It could be anything, photographs, a well laid plan, which is doubtful, considering who the letter is from.

He pulls out a few sheets of paper and some other odds and ends fall to the carpeted floor when he up-ends the envelope. Barry scoops them up and sits down on the bed, refusing to look at them just yet. Instead he turns to the paper, and finds the first few words a blurry mess. He blinks and it takes him a few seconds to realise he's tearing up, ready to cry. Immediately he wipes a hand across his face to rid it of the few that had fallen, cursing himself for getting emotional. He can't afford to, not if he's supposed to be leading this rag-tag group to victory.

After a moment, Barry can see clearly again. He hears the others calling for him, so he slips everything back into the envelope and stands up. It is be best to read in in front of them, he thinks. He makes his way into the kitchen, and from the look on his face, the others know whatever he's got in the envelope is important.

"I'll…I'll get Carlos and Rebecca..." Claire murmurs, wiping away the last of her tears. Jill nods and sits herself at the table, a random thought coming to her. This iswhere he sat usually. The thought makes her want to weep anew, but she forces herself not to.

A few moments of tense silence pass between the two ex-STARS members before Claire, Carlos and Rebecca troop into the room, Rebecca clinging to the merc. The trio finds seats and sit in silence for another moment or two and then Barry looks at them all, one by one. He lifts the envelope up to show them and says three simple words that shock everyone at the table.

"It's from Chris…"

Jill's heart leaps into her throat, and she stares at the envelope like it's her only life line.Right now, it's her only connection to the man she loved.

Rebecca's hand tightens in Carlos' grip, and he puts a hand on her shoulder. He knows she cared for the marksman a lot, made sense since he saved her life enough times on the crazy missions they did, and she him. They were close, and his death hitthe poor girl harder than she was admitting. He barely knew the marksman and now that the guy's dead…well. That says it all.

Claire just stays silent, praying her brother will walk in through the door and say it's all been an elaborate joke.

Barry moves to the head of the table and opens the envelope again, pulling out the pieces of paper. "Should I…?"

"No…" Jill stands, pushing the wooden chair back. "I want to read it."

Barry gazes at her for a moment then nods, handing over the papers. He understands right away it's something she has to do. He takes a seat and Jill stands for another moment then sits down, clearing her throat, then begins to read aloud.

Hey guys. It's me, Chris. Well, of course it is, who else would it be?…

Anyway, if you're reading this, I guess it means I'm…dead. God, that's a depressing thought. Knowing you all, you'll be grieving for me. You really shouldn't you know. If I'm dead, then you need to be strong and carry on with taking down Umbrella and Wesker. If I was lucky, I'll have blown that Blonde Bastard up with me. If not, then I'm sorry, I've left you more work than I wanted to.

Jill, babe, I'm sorry. I'm rewriting this letter constantly, before every mission, and I always pray Barry won't have to break it out. This time…this time it's different. There were so many things I wanted to say to you before we left, so many plans I had -

Jill breaks off, a hand going up to her mouth, trying to hold back the sobs. She takes a moment to regain her self-control, and she picks up where she left off, heart breaking.

-so many plans I had for us. And now there's no chance for any of it. Jill, forgive me for being too slow.

Barry, I'm putting you in charge. You're the leader now, take care of the rest of them, especially Claire when Carlos is around.

Jill cracks a small smile, lifting her eyes from the paper to look at the merc, who's smiling slightly.

I'll be watching, and if my sister turns me into a dead uncle, I'll be sure to blame it on you Barry. I'm just kidding. Seriously though, take care of them all for me. You'll probably do better than I've done. Take care of Jilly too.

Claire…I broke my promise. I said I'd come back, and I didn't. I'm sorry. I promised I'd get Steve back for you, and I didn't. I do a lot of promising. That's easy, the hard part is keeping them…I didn't Sherry back for you either. I'm not the best big brother in the world, but I do love you Claire-Bear. Take care of yourself.

Claire bursts into tears and suddenly Carlos has a sodding wet shoulder as she clings to it, weeping.

Becca, make sure you look after this lot. Without me, they'll be getting into less scrapes, so you won't have to do too much work anymore. So I just saved you a lot of medical supplies…I'm just kidding Becca. You just keep your chin up, and one day you'll get what - or who - you want. Just be sure to beat Carlos into a pulp for me if he ever tries anything with Claire, god knows I've seen you do it enough times.

Rebecca grins, a few tears still making their way down her face. She has beaten up Carlos a few times, but she never realised the marksman knew. "I will Sir, don't worry," she murmurs.

Carlos…Stay away from my sister or I will kick your ass whether I'm dead or not.

Carlos lifts his hands up in defence. "Hey, hey, easy! I wasn't planning on making a move on your sister."

Jill smiles a little and shakes her head. "He knows you too well Carlos. He knows us all well. Just…no longer."

Or I'll let Rebecca get to you first. Your choice my friend.

Now…Since I'm gone, there's something you should probably do. A funeral. Well forget it, there's no time for it. You can cry over an empty grave when Umbrella's gone for good. Cause that's the only time when my corpse will rest easy. Oh god you didn't let me turn into a zombie did you? PLEASE tell me you shot me before that? If you didn't I will be haunting your ass Carlos!

"Hey why pick on me?!"

Anyway…I guess…this is goodbye for me. I'll see you all in heaven then. Bye guys…Take care of yourselves…

Chris