A/N: This is so short it's embarrassing, LOL. But instead of overcharging this with details, I wanted to keep it short and convey the biggest and most intense amount of emotion possible. Even I hesitated at halfway: I couldn't pull myself to do this. No, I didn't cry (LOL), but I would've if I'd been softer than I am. This marks the end of this angsty-wicked thingy called a three-shot like mine. I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you for your reviews!^^
Disclaimer: Apply the usual here. Copyright goes to Capcom.
She couldn't believe her eyes, and yet she'd seen it.
Jill knew the risk Chris was about to take: she'd seen the shard in his hand, the glint of determination in his eyes, the brief smile on his battered face. She couldn't stop him from trying and so, hopelessly lying on the ground with injured legs, she watched, unmoving. Chris moved his arm back, ready to plunge that shard into Wesker's side, but he was faster. Instead of witnessing Chris' success, she witnessed his defeat.
She witnessed how Wesker's hand came out of Chris' chest.
Blood spattered onto the floor, stained her livid face. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the bloody mess Chris' body was, and even when he collapsed, choking on his own blood, Jill didn't look away. It was only when the realization hit her that she screamed.
Crying out in desperation, she dragged herself up to a sitting position, lifted up Chris' limp body in her arms. He was still breathing, but he wouldn't last long. Anger flared up inside her, panic, helplessness: she didn't know what to do. Training for such a situation for long years and now, she was at loss.
"Get back here, YOU BASTARD!" she bellowed when Wesker turned and started walking away. "GIVE HIM BACK!"
He was leaving: she had to stop him, she had to stop him, she had to KILL him. She would never forgive him: she'd chase him, she'd get her revenge. Her hatred outweighted her panic, leaving her frozen in her place and giving the strength to share one last look with Wesker before he disappeared. "GET BACK-!"
She snapped her head back to Chris, staring in horror at the gaping hole. Hot tears rushed forward, blurring her vision. "Oh my God… My god, Chris…" Her voice broke, her stomach lurching.
"Jilly… Thank you…" His voice was hoarse, weak, but the gleam in his eyes didn't fade. Jill broke down, stroking his face one more time so that she could feel the last moments of his warmth. "I… kept… my promise… Don't cry… for me and… live…" Jill wept even harder, touching her forehead to his, and for just one brief moment, she felt his lips brush against hers… one last time. But she couldn't take it: Chris was so cold it was almost inhuman. And that's what alarmed her: she withdrew, blinking several times, only to find Chris' chest wasn't rising anymore.
Jill held him in her arms for longer than she thought, paying no heed to her own wounds anymore. "Live." That had been Chris' last request: that she live… without him. There was no other light that could guide her; it was as if all lights had vanished in the middle of a dark cave. There was no way out.
How am I going to live now? I need you, Chris; I'm still not strong enough…
"Please, don't leave me… You've got to come back; I need you more than ever, Chris! You-you weren't meant to die…" Jill clutched his hand, nudged her temple against Chris', and even though she knew it was futile she kept trying. Jill spoke to him, shook him, tried to clean one of his cuts: anything to drown in her own denial, anything to get lost under the tide.
Anything to see his brilliant blue eyes open again.
But when nothing happened, Jill knew she had died along with him. She was more fragile than ever: Chris had been her strength, the only pillar that had always been willing to support her, the piece of her heart that was missing.
And he'd been the most important one. Now that it was gone, nothing was worth it anymore. Why live with a broken heart? Why leave a gaping wound to bleed out until it killed you? Why?
She cried herself to exhaustion, rocking back and forth, mourning over a loss that not so long ago had been like Chris'. Then, a pair of hands came down on her shoulders: it was Oliver. Her tears stopped flowing long enough for her to share a long look with him, one that offered her condolences and that shared her pain. She didn't refrain from weeping again. Jill stared at Chris, looking without seeing. She could only hear her heart skipping a few beats, her own screams echoing in her mind's walls. She swallowed, her lips trembling, and she hugged Chris even tighter, so much it even hurt.
But Chris was gone. Her wound was bleeding.
The yell that tore from her throat shook the entire building.