Chris shot straight up, startled by the clatter of the remote falling onto the floor. He had fallen asleep on the couch again. What had torn him from his sleep now drew him into the bedroom, where he should have been but what was the sense? There was no room for him the way she slept. Writhing, moaning softly, constant with activity, body struggling to play out the actions in her mind. He was calling to her as he stumbled up the hall, guided only by memory and the pale streak of blue moonlight pouring through the balcony behind him.

"Jill, I'm coming," he mumbled, barely audible, lacking vigor. He pushed open the door and fumbled for the light switch. He found it, joined her on the bed where she was crying in her sleep, arms wrestling an invisible foe.

"Jill." He placed a hand on her bare shoulder and roused her gently. She barely responded to him but went willingly when he drew her into his lap and chased away her nightmares with his presence.

"Calm down," he rasped, lightly teasing her hair away from her face with his fingers, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks to dry her tears. She settled immediately without waking. Not that it mattered. She never remembered her nightmares or if she did, she never wanted to talk about them. He gazed down at her though half slanted eyes. The thin strap of her silk nightshirt had slipped down her shoulder and sloped revealingly across her breasts. His eyes would have lingered there, longingly, but it was always the gathers of skin on her chest that pulled his eyes north. She would always remember Wesker, and so would he.

Chris lifted the strap back over her shoulder and sat back with a heavy sigh against the headboard. He hadn't had a full nights sleep in months. Tonight would be no different. Jill's soft whimpering would lull her back to sleep eventually, and he would be burdened with sleeplessness. Awake, staring blankly at the wall ahead as shadows shifted across it and disappeared at the dawn. He glanced over at the digital clock on the nightstand.

Three o eight.

A glance down at Jill. Her eyes fluttered lightly behind closed lids. Was it right to be jealous? He didn't want to sleep anyway. He had nightmares Jill never coaxed from him. He sat up again slowly, easing out from behind her and settling her down on the pillows. He went back into the living room, found the TV remote and shut off the television. Turned and made a beeline to the flashing green light atop the computer desk. Jill never turned off the computer. Ever. Just like she never turned off her phone, though it seldom rang. Or her pager, although BSAA wouldn't be paging her until the psychologist cleared her for work. She never shut off lights anymore either, because it chased away the darkness personified that was perpetually in her mind. Jesus. As the sun slipped gently behind a blackened horizon, trading light for shadows, so fear seemed to erase bravery and grip her. And just like that, Jill was a windup toy until sleep took her. Perhaps she wore a mask of calm and was never truly at peace.

He leaned over the desk chair and turned on the monitor, ready to dismiss any open windows and close off the computer for the night. He slid the arrow over the online messenger to close the box, glancing quickly at the names on the list. Zero of fifteen friends online. Under that, a sub category, BSAA. One of seventeen friends online. Shujaa23. His brows lifted in surprise. Sheva Alomar was online at three in the morning, just like him. Wait. She was on the other side of the world, and greeted tomorrow before he finished today. He logged off Jill's name, signed into his own, far less frequented account and stared at her alias, debating. She had been idle for sometime, and might not respond. But if she did, he'd be glad for the company, albeit distant. What would he send her? A hi? An enthusiastic hello? He hadn't existed as more than an e- mail in months. He had typed out and sent a drab and flat Hey,before he had even made up his mind.

And then he stood there, hopefully hovering over the desk chair watching the blinking margin wait for his next command. Sheva remained idle. Maybe she left her computer on all day too. This was ridiculous. He didn't need the company that badly. He exited the window and was about to close out the programme entirely when the message box popped back up with Sheva's animated Hey!

He wasn't really expecting a response, but he was glad for it. Now he didn't know how to engage her, but the message service gave away her intentions. Shujaa23 is typing.

Shujaa23: Chris? What are you still doing up?

She was apparently more conscious to time zoning than he was right now. Chris didn't know why he was marveling at the simplicity of her name. The tattoo boldly embellishing her shoulder and her age. He wondered if she changed her screen name every year. But lack of sleep will peak interest in the mundane.

MrBSAA: Can't sleep. Why aren't you at work?

Shujaa23: Maybe I am.

Stalemate. He had no conversation in him but he was desperate for it. He hoped Sheva would be more talkative than he was right now. Shujaa23 is typing.

Shujaa23: MrBSAA? Really? I haven't much room to talk but your screen name sucks.

Chris chuckled lightly. Yeah, it did. But Jill created the account for him. He wouldn't have done much better. He pulled out the desk chair and sat down.

MrBSAA: I know.

Chris shook his head. He hadn't spoken to the girl in forever. Was this the best he could do?

Shujaa23: How is Jill?

Of course. Everyone always asked that question.

MrBSAA: Getting beter evry day. How are thins in in Kijuju? Send.

"Shit." He swore, proof reading his sentence after the fact. He wasn't the best speller in the world but now he was too drowsy to type properly. He probably looked like a jackass. She didn't seem to notice or mind his illiteracy.

Shujaa23: I wish I could give you a positive report. Things are… difficult. But we continue to do what we can. Josh and I are still fighting the good fight.

Oh yeah, Josh.

MrBSAA: How is josh?

Not that he had to ask. Josh maintained an open line of communication with everyone he met. If you had to ask him what shoe size he wore you obviously never met the man. He was just that open.

Shujaa23: Amazing. He's absolutely amazing. Amazing, friend, amazing man. Josh is a superhero. He doesn't stop.

Superhero, huh? She had referred to him as a superhero back when they were crossing the marshlands in an airboat, but with slightly less gush. Yes, she was gushing over Josh, and shamelessly so.

MrBSAA: Thats allot of amasings.

Chris squinted at the screen with some disgust. At this hour he was sure he had butchered a few words in the sentence he just sent her but he wouldn't be able to correct it without a dictionary he wasn't coherent enough to operate. His fingers were moving faster than his mind could think. Sort of like now.

MrBSAA: I can't spell anymore. Do you have a cam? Webcam?

Hesitation. The flashing cursor was droning. He wanted to continue talking to her but not like this. His motor skills were asleep.

Shujaa23: Yeah. Give me a minute.

He sat back in the desk chair, shirtless, exhausted, and dragging his fingers through his unruly hair. A second window loaded and Sheva's image popped up, adjusting the camera. She sat back down in front of the camera with a nervous smile. Chris didn't budge. He had forgotten he was attracted to her. He sat there with his fingers knitted in his hair, gawking unabashed at the voiceless woman on screen. She was young, physically disciplined and enchanting. Magnetic hazel eyes searched for him through the camera, smiling at his folly. She tapped the camera and shrugged. Chris leaned over and turned on the sound, minding the volume.

"Turn on your camera," she said. Her voice completed the memory he had of her. Exotic, alluring, constantly sensual. Sheva had been so focused on their mission she carried on seemingly unaware of her appeal. Yeah, he remembered her now. He turned on his own camera, glad his disheveled countenance would be covered by the darkness in his apartment.

Sheva squinted at the grainy image of Chris. The light from the computer screen in front of him barely accented his features. But she remembered him and tried to conceal her smile behind an act of indifference. But it was nice to see him again.

"Hey partner," he crooned.

The smile she tried to hide slid its way across her face.

"You sound tired."

"I am," he returned.

"Why don't you sleep?"

"No rest for the weary." He ruffled his hair again. No amount of finger combing could tame it now. He didn't even realize he was suddenly self- conscious. She carried her eyes away from his picture. He sighed again and sat back, throwing himself intentionally from the light of the computer screen.

"Turn on a light or something!" She chided playfully.

Chris shook his head. He wasn't about to wake Jill. Besides, in this cover, he could stare absently at her without consequence. She would talk, he would listen, and her conversation would carry him off to sleep, regardless of how cryptic her message. In her e- mails she spoke of a ravaged Kijuju, in constant warfare, plagued by neglect and looting. She spoke of it now because he had asked. And she spoke of it well into his subconscious, where the atrocities of Kijuju were negated by her melodious voice. He heard her, and only her, and somehow lost the gist after an hour had flown by, and the next true words he heard her speak were the desperate calling of his name.

He popped his head up from his folded arms, nesting atop the desk and stared at a blank webcam screen.

Shujaa23 had logged off hours ago with polite parting without his notice, and the person calling his name was Jill. It was morning. He looked back at the screen.

Shujaa23: Goodnight, Chris. Maybe some other time.

He felt Jill snake an arm around his neck and press her face up against his in a hug.

"Good morning," she chirped. When he glanced up at her she greeted him with a polite kiss. She was dressed and ready for a morning jog.

He untangled her from around his neck and smiled. "What time is it?"

She sauntered over to the coffee table in the living room and picked up her holster and pager, pausing to affix them to her belt. She wouldn't be using any of them, but there was comfort in vain repetition.

"Twenty to seven."

Chris rubbed his eyes roughly, rising only to pull the vertical blinds closed from the sun streaking in and blinding him. She was in the kitchen pouring them both a hasty glass of orange juice, pushing in the fridge door with her foot.

"Do you ever sleep in your bed anymore?"

The question fell on deaf ears. Chris was lingering like a zombie against the frame of the sliding glass doors. She ducked below the cabinets to peer at him over the bar.

"Chris?"

He looked back at her. "Hmm?"

"Thanks. Again."

"Sure."

She furrowed her brows in concern. "Get some sleep, will you?" The glass of orange juice disappeared down her throat. She set it atop the counter before turning to leave.

"See you tonight," she called over her shoulder, slipping out through the door. Somehow, after she left, Chris felt the apartment lighten. But he would never tell her that.