Chrisker One-Shots

Loss

Summary:

A funeral is crashed by someone unwanted and not much happens, really.

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It was so sudden; Chris didn't want to believe any of it. The words that had come through the phone receiver at 9:04 in the morning were lies. The man on the other end sounded bored and the brunet hadn't even bothered saying anything besides asking how.

How could Jill Valentine be dead?

In the line of battle? Out on a mission? Proudly doing what she loved to do?

No.

Jill was killed by a drunk driver coming home from work the afternoon prior.

So there Chris sat—his brown hair was dirty because he hadn't bothered showering and had barely gotten dressed that morning. He was dressed in his BSAA garb and he was to stand next to her coffin at the funeral. He was labeled as her next of kin so not only was he expected to speak, he was also to get her badge of honor and lead the BSAA members carrying the casket.

The pastor had finished and was looking at him expectedly more suddenly than he had wanted. Taking one large step, Chris shifted in front of the microphone and looked out at the small room of people; all were wearing some semblance of black and only some were crying. Chris had done his crying on the shower floor of his flat and he wasn't going to start again now.

Chris cleared his throat and straightened.

"I'm not going to waste time saying Jill was taken from us too soon because we all know she was robbed of her life by someone selfish," Chris began. He hadn't bothered to prepare a speech as he had known what he was going to say but whether the words would come out was the issue.

"Jill Valentine was family to all of us, sure, but she was true family to my sister and me. She was the first person I told anything to, she was my support, she was my best friend, sh-she was—" Chris cleared his throat, "She was strong, independent, and survived more than any of us could. Jill had social skills, she was impressive with a gun, and could break into any lock that you set her in front of. Sh-she was an amazing person," Chris whispered the last bit and looked down at his shaking hands on the podium.

"She never judged me, she always stayed positive, a-and—" Chris trailed off for a moment and looked back up, "That woman made it through Raccoon City in a skirt," he chuckled quietly. A small echo of similar breathy laughs appeared around the room before returning back to the uncomfortable silence.

"Jill wouldn't have wanted any of us crying but I'm letting her down one last time, I guess, because this is the second time I've had to bury my best friend and it's not fucking right," Chris said sternly, "Jill Valentine deserved better than this."

He muttered, "That's all I've got," and looked up at the room of people yet again to see just a bit of blond hair leaving the room.

He stepped away from the podium and the pastor took over quickly.

Before Chris knew it, the group of standing around a funeral plot and her casket was being lowered in while he looked on with dead eyes. When her casket hit the bottom, Chris looked away and found himself staring at a tall man with slicked back blond hair in a black suit leaning against a tree not too far from them. The sunglasses perched upon his nose hid his eyes but Chris knew the man was looking at him as his lips twisted into a half smirk and his hands were inserted into his pant pockets.

Albert Wesker had somehow survived Africa but the over injections of the antivirus to keep his virus under control had damaged him. He wasn't the same over powered jackass he had been and the two had even met on occasion since Wesker had, essentially, reverted to his STARS body and was now taking mercenary work on the side. Wesker knew who was where and when and the BSAA used his 'anonymous' information quite well when needed considering the man was pricey.