Chris Redfield jumped at the phone as soon as it rang, fumbling with it clumsily for a moment before pressing it to his ear. He took a deep breath, both unready and dying to hear the voice that he knew would ring out of the receiver. Finally, he licked his lips once, and found his voice. "Hello?"

"Hey, Chris."

There it was. Jill Valentine's voice, weak from medical treatment. He hadn't seen her once since they returned to the BSAA outpost in Maine. Jill had been rushed away for immediate medical treatment, her body beginning to go into withdrawal now that the P30 virus that Wesker had been pumping into her veins was gone. Chris had begged and screamed, demanding that he be allowed to be with her during the next few weeks, and then broke down into tears, a strange and unfortunately familiar feeling of helplessness overtaking him—the same feeling that had overwhelmed him two years earlier, when Jill had thrown herself and Wesker out a window to protect Chris, and the following twenty-four months of believing her dead.

"Jill," he breathed, feeling a smile creep onto his face and tears spring into his eyes. "God, it's good to hear your voice."

"You too, tiger," she croaked. "The doctors were just telling me how you tried to fight everyone in the facility because they wouldn't let you stay in the room with me."

Chris groaned internally. Really? They had to tell her that? He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice again. "How are you feeling?"

"Like dogshit," she said dryly. "Everything hurts. My head's pounding, my chest feels like it's splitting open, and I feel like someone was using me as a baseball bat in a major league game, but I'm alive, so that's something."

"Yeah," Chris said. "Is anyone there with you right now? Aside from the doctors I mean?"

"No. You're the first one I called, Chris. I thought you'd probably throw yourself into the ocean if I called anyone before you. They say I can have visitors now, if you want to-"

"Yes!" Chris interrupted. "I mean of course. You shouldn't have to be there alone if you don't have to be right? I'll come down right now. Uh, if you want."

"Of course I want you to, you big jerk," came her voice, and Chris could hear laughter in her words, though strained. "Pack a bag. You can stay if you want. I told them if they didn't let you, I'd turn you loose in the equipment storage room."

Chris laughed, but somehow, it sounded more like a sob, with a hiccup stuck in there. "I'll be there soon, Jill. Sit tight."

"I was gonna go mountain climbing, but if you say so."

"Oh, shut up, Valentine."

"No you, Redfield."

Chris, with the help of his younger sister Claire, packed a bag. He kept trying to leave before he had everything he needed, effectively driving his baby sister insane.

"Do you have a toothbrush?" she asked as he was charging out the door.

"No," Chris groaned, dashing back down the hall.

"How about shower gel? And your razor?"

"Getting them now!" he called.

"Deodorant?" Claire called, shaking her head.

There was a sound of plastic objects being scattered. "Got it!"

The list went on. Shampoo, clean boxer shorts, socks, cell phone charger, and his laptop. Finally he left, and Claire locked the door behind him. Forty seconds later there was pounding on the door and Claire swung it back open to find her brother, blushing furiously.

"Forgot my keys," he grunted.

He drove like a bat out of hell, and made it to the facility in just under two hours. He flew in the front door, ignoring the secretary's demands that he check in, and dashed down the narrow hallway to Jill's room.

Suddenly, something in his stomach dropped and he could barely swallow. His hand moved in slow motion to the doorknob. He didn't know who he'd be on the other side of the door. Would he be the Knight in Shining Armor, who swoops in and takes all of Jill's pain away? Would he kiss her finally, and tell her that he loved her more than anything else he's ever loved and that he couldn't live without her?

He pushed the door open, only to find that he was still the awkward Chris Redfield that just couldn't bring himself to tell Jill precisely how he felt. "Hey."

Jill was sitting up in her bed. She turned her head to look at him, and her eyes were bright and vivid, exactly how he'd remembered them from before the accident. Her blond hair and pale skin seemed so strange on her, but she wore them beautifully. Chris swore he saw brown roots though, and prayed that it wasn't just his imagination. "Hey, handsome," she grinned.

Chris was red in the face immediately. How could she do that? He felt like a total jerk for even thinking about flirting with her, and she just turned it on like a faucet.

"I miss anything?" he asked dully. How come he never had anything clever or masculine to say to her?

"Just me taking a nap. This place is a snore," she said. "Doc says as long as I stay in good shape, I can go home in a couple days."

"That's exciting," Chris said, pulling up a chair to sit by her. He caught himself staring into her eyes and dropped his gaze.

"Hey," she said. He looked up at her and she was smiling at him.

"Thanks, Chris," she said softly. "I owe you my life."

He started shaking his head. "No. No no no, don't start that. You're my partner, my friend, I couldn't just--"

And then Jill was leaning over, her lips pressed to his, and Chris was all over it, his arms going around her like it was the most natural thing in the world and they'd done it a thousand times.

And Chris was feeling like a fucking pro when the door flung open and Jill's dad, Dick Valentine, came in with too many presents and a sour look on his face, directed at the man who'd just been sucking his daughter's face.