A/N - This is my first story in almost two years, I think. I can barely remember how to write, lol. My previous contributions to RE have admittedly left room for improvement (major understatment, lol), so I thought I'd try my hand at a less childish spin on Chris/Jill. At the moment this is a oneshot but I might add additional chapters later. I should also probably put a major fluff warning on this. I always seem to go overboard.

Please R&R. Constructive criticism is welcome but no flames please.

Disclaimer - I don't own Resident Evil, or 'Hallelujah', nor do I claim to. This piece of fiction is purely for entertainment purposes and no copyright infringement is intended.


"Wait for me. Promise that you'll wait for me."

Chris casually flicked his cigarette, allowing the ashes to fall into the wind before taking another long drag from his addiction. He was careful to exhale out of the window, away from his younger sister. Smoking was one of the many dangers he had not wished for her to be caught up in. Still, trouble always found her and danger was never far behind. He would admit that he should have known her following him was inevitable; she was forever trying to mimic him like he was some unsung hero.

He tried not to laugh at that thought. He was far from a hero; the bad guy was still alive and he didn't even get the girl...he couldn't even save the girl. All his attempts to pry information from Barry had ended in failure. His old friend's answers ranged from silence to "We'll talk about it when we get back". The all too familiar pain gripped his heart as he thought about the night he left her. He tried to persuade her to accompany him, but she was too hard-headed and stubborn to listen to him. "There is still work to be done here," she had told him. "I'm not finished with Raccoon yet." He knew that it had been the other way around; Raccoon hadn't finished with her.

He was in Paris when he heard the news. At first he thought that it was some sick hoax; there was no way that Raccoon City had been destroyed. His despair at losing the only true home he had ever known aside, he feared for the life of his friends. He had lost contact with Jill at the end of September, putting it down to the fact that she was supposed to be travelling to France to meet him. He had never conceived the idea that she may be in danger. He thought that the pain he felt would ease in time, but it only mingled with the guilt to push him further into a spiralling depression. She was his best friend, and he had let her down. He should have begged harder, he should have dragged her to the airport himself. No, he failed her. Just as he had failed the others. The only small mercy he was granted was that he did not have to watch her die.

"I'll call a meeting in the morning," Barry announced, snapping him from his reverie, "You two need to rest."

Chris snuffed out his cigarette and grunted in agreement. He didn't know how Rebecca would take the news that Wesker was still alive. Heck, he was still coming to terms with it himself. He often woke up and believed that it had all been a horrible dream, until the pain in his ribs set in. Two fractured ribs and one hell of a concussion, that's what he had walked away from the fight with. He counted himself to be lucky.

"Where is this house?" Claire asked, attempting to break the awkward silence.

"Just a little further," Barry chuckled. "It's a nice little place. Shame that we're moving soon."

"Back to America?" she enquired.

"We're not sure yet," he admitted. "The Paris HQ turned out to be a dead end. We've run out of leads on their main laboratory, but we have a lead on a place in Baltimore. It's probably worth checking out."

"What about Tyrants?" This time it was Chris that spoke, his voice low and sombre. "Last I heard, they were preparing to test a new model that was manufactured here."

Barry sighed and flicked the indicator before pulling into a long street on their right.

"Oh, they tested it alright," he answered. "But it was deemed a failure. Too volatile from what we heard. They...they tested in it Raccoon."

"What?" Claire jumped at the ferocity in her brother's voice.

"This isn't going to be easy to hear, but when the situation went south Umbrella decided to take advantage of it. They used their own soldiers as bait to collect combat data and they even dropped a couple of tyrants into the mix."

Chris turned to observe his sister, who had begun to shake slightly. She closed her eyes, attempting to burn all images of that great, hulking cloaked figure from her mind. Chris turned away immediately and ignored the stinging sensation in the corners of his eyes, reminded once again of the mess he had left his partner in. His throat tightened and he swallowed, resisting the urge to vomit.

"We're here," Barry pointed out as he pulled into the driveway of a quaint detached house.

The siblings jumped out of the car and gazed up at the building as Barry pulled their small bags out of the back of the car.

"Are you okay?" Claire asked, slipping her arm around Chris's waist. She noticed the faraway look in his eyes as he grunted an inaudible response, responding to her affection by draping his arm around her loosely.

She had worried about him more than usual since he had rescued her. It had been somewhat of a shock, finding her usually strong and light-hearted brother cold and despondent. She knew the reason as soon as she noticed the problem; Jill. It didn't take a genius to work out that he was madly in love with her, and her with him. Or maybe it did, since they both still seemed completely oblivious to the fact. She was always fawning over him and he would always steal looks at her when he thought nobody was looking, grinning like a lovestruck puppy. It used to disgust her, seeing him act so soppy around her, but in time she found it endearing. It was one of the many reasons she came to love and respect Jill; she was able to put a genuine smile on her idiot brother's face, an occurance she had not witnessed since before their parents died.

"Suck it up," she told him. "I'm sure Rebecca's dying to see you again. You don't want to walk in there looking like you want to kill yourself, do you?"

Chris grimaced as she thumped him on the back and turned to take her bag from Barry. He looked back at them then up at the house once more, digging in his pocket for the last of his cigarettes only to find that the pack was empty.


"You gonna eat that?" Carlos asked, eyeing the last slice of pepperoni pizza. Jill chuckled and pushed the box towards him. He smiled gratefully before helping himself.

Leon casually flicked through the day's newspaper, his youthful features contorted in an expression of intense concentration and frustration as he attempted to understand what he was reading.

Jill observed both men with a smile. She still couldn't believe how lucky she was, after all that had happened. She had escaped Raccoon with minor injuries, all things considered, and had found a safe house to share with the first group of people she had learned to trust since that awful night the previous July. Carlos worked himself into exhaustion most of the time, desperate to prove that he could be trusted. Jill had told him countless times that he had already acheived that feat but he stubbornly refused to believe her. She didn't blame him for working for Umbrella, none of them did. He was in the same situation as the S.T.A.R.S. members had been; used by an employer for their own personal gains. He had nothing to do with their bioweapons and his actions in Raccoon had shown that he was a passionate, brave, righteous, though often reckless young man. Her heart bled for him in the same way it had for Rebecca; he didn't deserve to be caught up in this. Yet still, he dedicated himself to the fight to bring down Umbrella, unable to stand by and do nothing after what he had witnessed. It was this dedication, this bravery, that had earned him not only the trust of the others, but also their respect.

Leon, on the other hand, always seemed to be searching for something that wasn't there. She often wondered what had happened to him in Raccoon City, but did not want to bring up possibly painful memories by asking. She assumed that it had something to do with the woman he often mentioned. Although...
She could still remember the day she had met him, her beretta aimed carefully between his eyes. They had been watching over Chris's abandoned hideout when they witnessed a man entering his apartment. Jill had stormed in, all guns blazing, demanding to know where Chris was. It turned out that Leon wanted to know the same thing. He explained that he had sent Chris some information regarding his sister and wanted to know if he had received it. Jill cursed herself for not trusting him from the start. He was worried about Claire, that much was obvious, and she could sympathise with him on that level.

Jill sighed. If Redfields didn't cause trouble, they wouldn't cause anything.

Chris stepped over the threshold as Barry pushed the door open for him. The house seemed a little older inside than it did out, but it did not detract from its rustic beauty. Chris noted that there was a faint odour of something he couldn't quite describe in the entrance hallway. It wasn't unpleasant, but it took him by surprise and he wrinkled his nose. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him that Claire was by the car, laughing at something with Barry as he locked up. Chris simply shook his head and moved into the house, desperate to get out of the cold. Even after his short spell in Antarctica he wasn't used to such cold weather.

He shrugged off his coat as he stepped inside the living room, noting the slightly battered furniture and surprisingly large TV. He could hear laughter from beyond the kitchen and moved forwards, running his hands along the walls as he went. The house reminded him a lot of his grandparents' house and he suddenly realised where he had experienced the familiar smell before. He frowned as he drew closer to the dining room, unable to recognise the voices that he heard. One was lightly accented, and the other sounded as if it meant business, even though it was very badly attempting to speak French.

It was then that he heard a third voice; one that he barely recognised. No, he was sure...he would recognise that laugh anywhere.

He turned the corner sharply, entering the dining area quickly but silently. Three occupants sat around a small table. He did not recognise the faces that turned to his as he entered; a young hispanic man and a young blonde caucasian man who was tearing a newspaper in two.

But Chris's eyes were drawn to the third person, to the head of chocolate brown hair that he could see above the backrest of a mismatched mahogany chair. The breath left his body, the lump returning to his throat and he found himself unable to move as the third occupant noticed the direction of their companion's gaze.

Time seemed to stand still as their eyes met, neither one believing the sight that was before them.

"Chris?" Jill was the first to break the silence. The chair she vacated fell to the floor with a thud as she threw herself into his arms and his wound protectively around her, gripping her tight.

His mind was numb, barely registering the body in his arms. All he could do was hold it, hold it like he should have done all those months ago. The guilt that seemed to be an everlasting presence in his life grew deeper when he felt her tears soak through the thin material of his T-shirt. Trembling hands pulled her back and he scrutinised her face, searching for a reason behind the tears.

"I thought-" he mumbled, his heart getting the better of him. "God, Jill, I don't know what I thought. I'm glad you're alive."

She laughed through her tears, her arms not moving from their position on his upper arms. Her touch made him a little uneasy but he did not try to break free. He welcomed it.

Jill's eyes searched his and he could see that her tears were not out of fear or hurt. He knew that the past few months couldn't have been easy on her either; all the remaining S.T.A.R.S. members had now was each other. Too many of their friends had died, he didn't think that any of them was capable of coping with another death.

Chris noted that her hair was a little longer than he remembered, just reaching her shoulders. It was still the same shade of chocolate brown and her blue eyes still shone with the intelligence that had ensured her appointment to S.T.A.R.S. several years ago. His eyes drifted down, over the pale skin of her face and down to a smooth pink scar on her left shoulder. His youthful features twisted into a frown as he ran his fingers over it, noticing the difference in texture between the scar and the soft, unmarked skin that surrounded it. Noticing where his attention had fallen, Jill pulled her falled cardigan sleeve back over her wound and stepped back, suddenly unable to look her partner in the eyes.

"It's nothing," she explained, her tone suggesting that it was the last thing she wanted to discuss at that moment. "It-it's healing fast. Rebecca said the scar probably won't even be permanent."

Chris found it difficult to conjure up words to express what he wanted to. He wanted to know so much; how she had escaped Raccoon, how she kept alive, even how she was coping with it all. He mentally laughed at himself for having such stupid thoughts, but he was used to the effect she had on him. It made him ashamed sometimes, ashamed that this woman seemed to strip away every trace of masculinity within him. With other girls it had always been sex, passion and the meaningless relationship that always came along with it. Sure, he would admit to undressing her with his eyes the many times they were alone in the S.T.A.R.S. office, to imagining how it would feel to hold her against him, to give her the best night of her life. But with Jill it was so much more than that. All of a sudden there were feelings involved. He was running around for her, waking up an hour early just so he could drive across the city and take her to work when her car gave out. He would show up on her doorstep when she was ill with cough medicine and a rented movie, and would listen to her when she confided in him, actually listen. What surprised him most about his generosity where she was concerned was that he never expected anything in return. Pussy-whipped, that's what Forest had described him as, before ridiculing that he seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he was falling in love with this girl. But he was right...and by the time Chris had sucked it up and admitted to himself that he, Chris Redfield, was in love, it was too late. Umbrella had changed them forever.

'Oh how the mighty fall.'

He watched her walk away, taking a seat next to the hispanic man as Barry entered the room, interrupting a hug that Claire had forced upon the startled blonde man. Chris assumed that it was Leon. No sooner had it started, his moment with Jill had been cut short. 'Story of my life,' he thought.

He barely registered Rebecca bounding up to him, or Barry introducing the hispanic man to himself and Claire. He couldn't even listen as Barry relayed what Chris and Claire had told him. About Rockfort Island, Antarctica, Alexia...Wesker. His eyes remained fixed on Jill the whole time, watching her react to every word that was said. he noticed her sympathetic glance towards Claire at the mention of Steve, and the genuine shock that her entire body seemed to express as she took in the news of Wesker's return. Then, her eyes met his as Claire butted in to describe how Chris had saved her, how he had fought Wesker and barely escaped with his life. He found it difficult to interpret the emotion behind Jill's expression, noting the slight twitch of her lips, the gentle furrowing of her brow and the way her eyes squinted ever so slightly.

Her gaze faltered after a few moments, returning to the tile they had been staring intently at for the last five minutes. Chris scolded himself for thinking into her actions too much. It annoyed him that he was thinking about her again, that he was hoping that in some way she was thinking about him, too. He reminded himself once again of what Forest had told him and rolled his eyes in frustration. If the guys were alive now...

He noticed that Barry was no longer talking and that a general chatter had descended upon the small group. Rebecca seemed to be deep in coversation with Claire, no doubt trying to find out as much about the T-Veronica virus as she could. Leon had turned his attention back to what remained of the daily newspaper and Jill was smiling at something the hispanic man was telling her.

Suddenly, Chris didn't feel so well. His chest tightened and his stomach felt a hundred times heavier than it had before.

"I-I'm gonna hit the hay," he spoke, forcing every word out with the greatest of effort. His vision swam as he stood up and he heard the scrape of another chair as he left to walk up the stairs.

"I'll show you to your room." He turned and looked at Jill as she moved ahead of him, beckoning at him as she began to ascend the old staircase. He followed her obediently, unable to resist noticing the way her hips swayed as she climbed. He immediately shook the thoughts from his mind. The last thing he wanted was for her to realise that he had been watching her.

"There's one spare room," she explained. "Either you and Claire can share, or she can bunk with Rebecca. Of course, you can share with one of the guys if-if you want."

A smile formed on his lips as he realised that she was babbling. It meant that she was as nervous as he was about their reunion. It seemed strange how six months ago words shared between them seemed to flow naturally, yet at that moment they both seemed to be searching for something to say.

"Jill, it's been so long," he told her, unable to control himself. He felt ashamed for being unable to keep his mouth shut but it paid off as she opened a door to her right and signalled for him to come inside. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside the small room, not knowing what to expect.

The room was quite dim, the only light being the moonlight shining through a large window on one wall. Despite the slightly dilapidated state of the house, the room was quite clean and decorated in a fairly modern way. The carpet was dull and patterned, though the pattern had worn away in several places, and the walls were painted a light cream colour not dissmiliar from that which had decorated Jill's bedroom back in Raccoon City. The double bed filled most of the room with a small desk and bedside table standing beside the bed, a small chest of drawers providing the fourth and final piece of furniture within the room. Jill flicked the switch on a lamp beside her bed, casting an orange glow over everything nearby, and set herself down on the bed, waiting for Chris to join her.

"I missed you," she admitted as he lowered himself onto the bed beside her. "It wasn't easy back in Raccoon..."

Chris swallowed his guilt and placed a hand on hers, finding it hard not to notice how small and feminine it was compared to his own.

"What happened," he asked, his voice soft yet still deep and commanding. "Why didn't you leave?"

Jill shook her head and pushed her hair out of her eyes.

"It wasn't that simple," she explained. "I-After the reports started to come in, I went back to the police station. Irons was still spouting his bullshit but the other cops wanted my advice. The more stories that came in, the more rational ours sounded. I told them they needed to move quick, to detain the infectees and determine the source of infection before it got out of control. But it all happened so quickly. Within forty-eight hours, almost half of the population had been infected. Irons ordered the police to the front lines, to fight off the infected. It was a stupid idea, and most of the officers were killed. Not even Umbrella's men could fight them. I tried to help, but Marvin told me to get out of town. I should have listened...I just-I thought I could help, you know? I began to search the city, looking for survivors to take to the evacuation points. I found about twenty people, but-"

A sob was torn from her throat, and Chris's arm instinctively went around her. She didn't lean into him, nor did she acknowledge his gesture.

"After I found their bodies, I decided to get the hell out of there," she continued. "But the evacuation was over."

He listened intently as she described her struggle, and Brad's death at the hands of the monster she called 'Nemesis'. He had no time to mourn the death of their former teammate as she continued to describe her journey. He couldn't help but feel grateful that this Carlos guy was there to help her. Of course, he felt the familiar pang of jealousy but he knew that had it not been for his efforts, Jill would not be here today. His own guilt flared inside of him as she explained her infection, how she almost became one of the undead herself until Carlos heroically fought his way through the hospital to bring her an anti-virus.

"He's a good man," she explained, her admiration throwing Chris off a little. Upon noticing his silence, Jill turned so that she was facing him and took one of his calloused hands in hers.

"You both are." He knew that she was merely trying to equate him to the man who had saved her life many times, but he was still flattered.

Fingers gently danced across his jaw and along his cheekbone as she investigated the many bruises that were evident on his otherwise handsome features. His slowly closed his eyes and focused on her gentle caresses, knowing that he was foolish to allow himself to indulge in such a pleasure when he knew that it would be over soon and would never happen again.

As though fate itself was attempting to prove a point, Jill's soft touch immediately disappeared.

"What happened?" she asked, finally voicing the question they had both been too afraid to ask. Chris opened his eyes and gazed at her curiously. "With us?"

His breath caught in his throat, the answer unknown even to him. Things had seemed so promising after their return from the mansion; she had even begged him to stay with her that night and fell asleep in his arms. Of course, he was also grateful for the company after the nightmare they had only just escaped from, but it gave him hope for them as something more than simply friends. Over the next few weeks they spent increasing amounts of time together, both of them acknowledging but not admitting that they would have fallen apart had it not been for the other. The weeks passed and Chris began to grow distant, suddenly withdrawing the affection he had shown her, leaving Jill confused and a little hurt. Chris would never admit that he was afraid of how close they were getting, afraid of how he felt and of being humiliated should she turn him down.

"You don't have to answer that," she told him with a humorless laugh, "I was just being stupid."

"No," he objected. "No, you're right...I just-"

"Be honest, Chris," she begged, her voice tinged with desperation. "Please."

She knew that there was no time to dance around their feelings, that it was now or never.

"Things have changed," he confessed, almost choking on his words. She had asked him to be honest, but the truth was too painful to even think about. "I-I don't even know where my head is anymore."

She smiled to mask her hurt but as always he saw right through her facade.

"That doesn't stop it from hurting," she admitted before he could speak. "They really fucked things up, didn't they?"

Chris swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, careful to hide his reaction from her. He knew it hurt; it was slowly tearing him apart inside, but he was too proud to admit what he truly felt. He cursed his hard-headedness and swore out loud, a response that Jill took as a sign of agreement. He tried not to acknowledge her proximity to him but it was difficult.

She glanced over at him expectantly, but he didn't notice. He was too preoccupied with his own thoughts, his own desires. A sigh escaped her lips and she pushed herself to her feet, the heat she could feel emanating from his body becoming uncomfortable. She had long since resigned herself to the fact that she would never truly get to know Chris, that she would never be able to break down the walls he had thrown up after the incident at the Spencer estate. They had both changed, and not entirely for the better. She missed the Chris that she had fallen in love with years ago, the Chris who was always smiling, who was always genuine. The man she looked at now was not Chris Redfield. She didn't believe a single word he said and his eyes seemed to mask something. She concluded that it was like talking to a brick wall.

It frustrated the hell out of her. She was playing her cards, giving him an opportunity to confess the feelings she was convinced that he shared with her. The thought crossed her mind of what would have happened had they never went on that fateful mission, if nature had been allowed to run its course. Would it have progressed from harmless flirting to something more, or would they have been forever stuck in a rut? It had occured to her many months ago that the incident was the catalyst that kick-started the slow process of changing their friendship forever. She loved him, she realised that now, but now that she had found love it was nothing like she thought it would be. Her Prince Charming had saved her, defeated the beast, but after everything that had happened how could love be as simple as riding off into the sunset?

She felt the bitter sting of hopelessness as a familiar song drifted into her mind, one she had bee unable to fully understand until now.

"It's not a cry you can hear at night,
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken 'Hallelujah'."

'What the hell are you doing, Redfield?'

Chris shook his head, wanting so much more than what he had been left with. He loved her, and he knew for sure that he would never love another woman the same way. Heck, he didn't want to love another woman the same way, and neither did he think he was capable of such an act. They would always be compared to Jill and she was, well...perfect. He observed her shapely figure as she leaned against the window sill, gazing outside but not actually seeing what was beyond the glass. Slowly, he stood up, careful not to make any noise as he silently moved behind her, standing close enough that he could sense her body tense up. He allowed his hand to come to rest on her arm, noting that she stood up straight upon its initial contact. Her eyes fluttered shut and he noticed her chew ever so slightly on her bottom lip, her reflection illuminated by the moonlight. The pale blue light cast its ethereal glow on her skin and to Chris she had never look as beautiful as she had then, in her worn jeans and slightly tattered old cardigan with no make up hiding her eyes.

Unwillingly, he moved closer, so that her back was pressed against him, reaching an arm round to hold her to him. For a brief moment they just stood there, neither wanting to move. Chris's breath tickled her ear, his lips mere millimetres from her skin. It was so blissful that it was almost painful. A thousand thoughts danced across his mind, memories of the times they spent simply flirting and messing around when they should have been together. Back when they believed that they had all the time in the world. But now...she was here. It was the moment he had been waiting for for so long. If not now, then never.

Chris suddenly stepped back, letting go of Jill so suddenly that she stumbled a little.

'I can't do this'.

He raised a shaking hand to his forehead, searching his mind for a reason to go ahead with what he wanted to do. Every time he turned up a blank. For every reason he found there was another, more powerful reason not to.

'It can't go anywhere'.

'You know you don't have the time to be in a relationship now. Umbrella is still out there.'

'Your head isn't in the right place.'

'Your heart won't be in it.'

'It would just be one night, it could ruin everything.'

'They would use her against you'.

'What if you die and she is left behind?'

'What if she dies? You know you can't handle the pain of losing someone else...especially not her.'

'You're not right for her. You can't give her what she needs.'

'If you love her you'll let her go.'

Jill watched on in confusion as Chris squinted and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm tired," he announced, his voice betraying his emotions. "I'm going to bed. We-we'll catch up tomorrow."

Before waiting to hear her response he jogged towards the door and slammed it shut behind him, resting his back against the hard mahogany when he could.

'Redfield, you idiot'.

"I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you."

Jill looked at her reflection on the mirror, wondering what the hell just happened. Her hands instinctively moved to her arms, her body suddenly missing the heat that his had momentarily provided. She felt her pain building up in her chest before the tears came, her hands flying to her eyes as they did.

She had expected no less but she had not expected the pain that suddenly wracked her body to be so intense. It was unbearable, and she was suddenly filled with the urge to run after him, her pride be damned, and beg him not to leave her. She had been alone for far too long...

The tears continued to flow, her shoulders shaking violently. She was amazed at how well she was able to stifle her sobs, well enough that the others would not hear and come running to her.

She barely registered the door behind her slam, and she did not hear the footsteps behind her. Her hands were suddenly pulled from her face as someone spun her around harshly, soft lips colliding with hers moments later.

She didn't ask questions, she didn't need to. She knew those hands.

Her body moved of its own accord, her arms throwing themselves around his neck, her body falling into his as his tongue gently slid past her lips. The raw energy of the kiss almost threw her off, and she fell further into his embrace, prompting him to hold her tighter, an action she found difficult to object to.

It was fast, furious, and she loved it. For the first time since he had returned she knew that this was truly the Chris Redfield that she had fallen in love with. There was no restraint in his actions, no fear. This was him, no walls, no excuses, no rules, and she gratefully revelled in his affection. If she had ever been in any doubt about her feelings, his actions burned them all away. She knew then and there that this was what she wanted, that he was what she wanted and that he was perfect in every way.

She obeyed the silent commands that he seemed to give, allowing him to push her woolen cardigan to the floor. Her fingers found their way into his hair, grabbing it roughly as he grunted in appreciation. She knew from the forceful way that he pulled her back into him that he was lost to his own desires and she did not try to calm him down. No, she could never stand the idea of 'making love'. It was just some fake term plastered onto an act that was so orchestrated that there was little love left in it. This, this was real love. No holds barred, no feelings hidden, just raw passion; love in its truest, purest form.

They paused briefly for breath as the T-shirts came off, resuming the seemingly neverending kiss before the garments had even hit the floor. Jill's lips traced his stubble-covered jaw line as he reached behind her and fumbled with her bra, her own hands finding their way to his jeans. She had never felt so vulnerable as she did at that moment, half-naked in the arms of a man she had only dreamt about undressing. Still, she felt safe in his arms, safe in a way she had never felt before. She didn't care what happened next, she didn't care about Umbrella, nothing mattered as long as his hands continued to move over her skin the way they did. He groaned loadly as she dragged her fingernails down his chest, forcing her to deepen the kiss in an attempt to silence him and him to pull her close so that her breasts pressed against his bare chest, her legs bucking in response as he moved her towards the bed.

"Remember when I moved in you?
The holy dark was moving, too
And every breath we drew was 'Hallelujah'."

Her vision blurred, her voice catching in her throat as her back arched beneath him. Fingernails made their mark on the taut skin of his back as she silently begged for release. His breath was hot against her neck, his lips caressing her skin. She couldn't help the quiet moans that were torn from her, and could not protest as his lips found hers again in an attempt to silence her. Her hands fell flat against his back, feeling the flexing of his spine as he thrust into her. Their eyes met occasionally, a mutual love expressed silently each time. Jill arched her back further, throwing her head back as he continued to thrust, hitting the perfect spot every time.

Even Chris's lips failed to stifle her final moan, his own voice mingling with hers as they collapsed into each other. Their lips immediately met each other's one last time as they seperated, Jill settling on Chris's chest as his arms wound protectively around her.

They simply lay there, basking in the afterglow of what they would later admit to be the best night of their lives. No words were spoken, there was no need. Their feelings were clear and they knew that finally things were as they should be, if only for one night.

Jill raised her head from his chest and their eyes met solemnly. She knew as well as he did that it would be the last night shared together for a while. They were in the middle of a war, they couldn't afford to be in a relationship. As though he had read her mind, Chris pulled Jill into him, his lips meeting hers for what seemed like the thousandth time that night in a kiss that reassured her that they would be alright.

Chris held her close, knowing that he was unprepared for what lay ahead. He told himself that he was foolish for giving in and that his actions had been selfish but when he remembered how honest her touch had been, how genuine her pleasure had seemed, he found no way to scold himself. All he had ever wanted was to make her happy, even if just for one night and he was satisfied that he had acheived that much. As for himself... Chris smiled, registering the small but muscular frame curled up against him. Still, their night together was almost over and tomorrow they would rejoin the fight, acting as though nothing had happened. He felt his body seize up as the prospect of leaving her suddenly felt painfully real. He was overcome by a sudden posessiveness; the exact feeling he had been trying to avoid. How could he just let her go now?

"I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march,
It's a cold and it's a broken 'Hallelujah'."

Jill breathed silently, noticing that his grip on her had suddenly become tighter. She didn't want to face tomorrow, still too caught up in the here and now. She cursed love and all it's stupidity. She couldn't promise herself that it would all work out, couldn't promise herself that either of them would make it through the fight alive. She couldn't even keep her promise of not letting love get the better of her.

"Wait for me," Chris spoke, his voice rumbling through his chest. "Promise that you'll wait for me."

Jill smiled to herself. Now that was a promise she could keep.