A/N: Each of these chapters is a separate story, written to the lyrics of a song I found appropriate and fitting.

This story takes place in Resident Evil 3: Nemesis when Jill's in the clock tower waiting for Carlos to return. Review, please!

Disclaimer: The song "Under my Umbrella" belongs to Incubus…and all the stuff related to Resident Evil belongs to Capcom.

If This is Life…

When I close my eyes…

I can see for miles…

There's comfort in my dark seat…

And chaos in the aisles…

Jill opened her eyes and listened for a moment. Nothing. Then, slowly, a muted moan wafted on the air to meet her ears. Jill rolled over, arms crossed over her aching stomach. It was the T-Virus…or maybe some other virus that Nemesis had. It didn't matter. Carlos had a nearly nonexistent chance of getting her the vaccine for it, anyway.

Her eyes darted around the room, taking everything in. When Carlos carried her in here right after the showdown with Nemesis, she'd been too out of it to really see where he'd taken her. The chapel. Jill smiled weakly. It was weird, how things worked out. It was pretty place, if small.

A large cross of bronze and silver towered over the altar, casting an odd-looking shadow over Jill's chest. Didn't they make a cross over the chests of the dying…? Soft lighting accentuated the subtle colors of the marble floor and the woodwork…and the huge splotch of dried blood splashed across the powder blue rug behind the altar.

Jill shuddered and closed her eyes. Sometimes, it was too much work to try to look at things, let alone understand them.

These eyes are not your eyes

And these are not the color that

Your arid eyes might be

No, I was not around

When those eyes of yours decided so

I refuse to kneel before the sights you choose to see

Why hadn't they fought…?

The question plagued her even now. Even in the end, they might have stopped some of this nightmare from happening if they'd only tried to fight Umbrella! They'd brought this whole mess down upon their own unsuspecting heads, but Jill couldn't bring herself to hate them. The story of the Spencer Estate sounded outlandish to the people who'd survived it – how could a down-to-earth town mayor believe it? Or even a chief of police, for that matter? It was all Umbrella's doing, and sometimes thinking about them made Jill so angry she felt that she could take them down single-handedly.

Jill coughed, a pitiful sound in the empty chapel. She was starting to get tired, the weary, in-the-bones sort of tired that dragged you down and down and down…None of this was her fault, though. She couldn't blame this on herself. She'd tried her best to make them see the truth, and if they wanted to see Umbrella as their savior, she wouldn't, couldn't, stop them. Jill forced out one last thought as she fell asleep: even if they were wrong.

When I close my eyes…

I remember why I smile…

Under my umbrella…

I'm an accomplished exile…

Seconds, minutes, hours, later Jill woke up again. There was a little bit of light filtering in through the tiny glass panes on the wall. It looked like it was getting close to dusk. Carlos…was he alright? He'd been gone for at least two hours now, if not more. Jill's sense of time was questionable, so she decided to give up the thought. But there was nothing else to think about, really. From the corner of her eye, Jill noticed the giant blood splotch again and slammed her eyes shut to block out the sight, a lump rising in her throat.

In her mind, Jill drifted from memory to memory, trying to avoid reality. She smiled as she remembered the STARS barbeque a few weeks before the Spencer Estate. Everybody was there, even the new Bravo Team recruit, Rebecca Chambers. Enrico and Barry brought their kids…and everyone was happy, content. A little warier than usual, maybe, because of the recent animal attacks, but happy nonetheless. But they were all dead, they were dead or they were gone.

Jill was alone now.

She was even, Jill mused, a sort of exile. Before she'd left STARS, she was discredited by the entire city and publicly criticized by Mayor Harris and Chief Irons. Irons told her she was delusional and needed time off – and then he'd taken her off the active duty rolls and made her turn her weapon in. A while later, Jill returned to the RPD to quit STARS and collect all of her belongings in the building. Only she'd forgotten a few of the most important items – her favorite beret, the picture of the STARS teams together, her lockpick…those among others. In fact, when she'd returned to the RPD to get her lockpick (an indispensable, incredibly useful item) Jill decided to take the picture, too.

Jill reached into the pocket of her skirt and fumbled around for a minute – her fingers weren't working the way they were supposed to – and eventually pulled out a much-folded, slightly crumpled picture. Faces smiled out from the picture, and Jill smiled, too. Maybe she was an exile now, but she had friends, and she wouldn't be alone forever.

The one thing that bothered her was the way she'd hidden away in Raccoon as the virus spread. What would've happened if she'd gone out and tried to help those people? Was she any better than them? It was pride, plain and simple, that stopped her from going out there. They'd rejected her theory, humiliated her, and then expected her to go out and save their sorry asses?

Guiltily, Jill curled up in a ball. It was in the past, now, and she couldn't change anything…

These eyes are not your eyes

And these eyes are not the color that

Your arid eyes might be

No, I was not around

When those eyes of yours decided so

I refuse to kneel before the sights you choose to see

Jill woke up retching the next time, thin, watery vomit spilling out from her gaping mouth. It burned Jill's throat, and when she was finally finished, she sat up on the altar, very slowly, and looked around. A water bottle sat right next to the altar, right next to a little plate with a sandwich of some sort. It looked slightly stale, and the sight of it made Jill feel sick again.

She snatched up the water bottle and took a swig to wash out her mouth, and then another big swallow to wet her throat. It was so hot in the chapel…! It wasn't that bad before, but it was almost nauseating now. After the water, Jill decided to take another nap. Sleeping meant she didn't have to think.

If this is right

I'd rather be wrong

If this is sight

I'd rather be blind

Neon purple and green lights flashed before Jill's eyes as she looked away from the light bulb. If this was all there was to life, she'd rather be dead. But wait – was that a scratching sound she'd just heard?

She pulled herself painfully out of the well she'd fallen into, her mind, and watched the door for another moment, but nothing else happened. Or…maybe there was. She was too hot, too tired to make sense of anything any more. And so itchy! Her arms, her legs, her back, her feet…everything itched, all at once, and it was driving her crazy.

Jill didn't even think Carlos would come back any more. She'd turn into a zombie in this chapel, and eventually, she'd die. Thinking was too much trouble now. Jill feel back into her mind and let everything go.

These eyes are not your eyes!

And these eyes are not the color that

Your arid eyes might be!

No, I was not around

When those eyes of yours decided so

I refuse to kneel before the sights you choose to see!

Sweat rolled down Jill's brow as she tossed on the hard stone altar. She was burning up, flames were charring her insides, her skin would soon blister and peel off…and then, through the haze of heat-induced pain, Jill felt a freezing arrow shoot through her veins, cooling her boiling blood and soothing her upset stomach. Her skin stopped itching, and she opened her eyes. Carlos was hovering over her, looking worriedly into her eyes.

Jill sat up and looked around, no longer tired. She yawned, and stretched, and looked at Carlos. So he did come back…Jill leaned down to pick up the water bottle – she was so thirsty all of a sudden! – and finished it without a second thought. With slightly shaking fingers, she set the bottle down and stood up. As much as she wanted to stay in the safe, comfortable chapel, Jill knew she had things to do.

She'd sacrificed a lot for Raccoon City, and in the end it came tumbling down. But Umbrella had other labs, other accidents, and, undoubtedly, other towns twisted round their finger. This time, Jill would fight to keep innocents out of the fight. And she wouldn't let her pride get in the way.

If this is right

I'd rather be wrong!

If this is sight

I'd rather be blind…