GREENHERB

"phew -" her hand does not touch her forehead, but preforms the motion all the same, the mock-wiping of the brown in relief that is met with nothing but blank stares. tough crowd. "nothing to worry about, huh? well, besides the usual. can't imagine sherry's gonna give you the headache i gave my big brother," she laughs, giving sherry's hands a gentle squeeze, but it does not soothe the ache in her heart : her own adolescence had been tainted with the open wound of being orphaned, driving her into recklessness and rebellion — in contrast, the same wound has left sherry docile, grateful for attention she has been starved of for years. again, her high spirits are met with relative silence, the oil-slick smile of a man with perfect teeth, bought on the government's dime.

most of the time, he looks through her. entertains her simply because her track record proves she's capable of being a thorn in his side. sometimes, though, he looks at her, expression inscrutable — she straightens her spine, lifts her head, but still she feels exposed, all her flaws on display. simmons has provided more than she could ever hope to, he has reminded her of that over and over, but her gratitude does not still the slow twist of her gut, the sensation of grease heavy on her skin.

"can't imagine doing a - what is it, a doctorate? at your age. i couldn't even finish my homework," attention turned from simmons to carla, stood in his shadow. the pale ghost that follows him from room to room, only ever speaking when spoken to. another traumatised teenager under his wing. derek simmons, the patron saint of lost little girls, it seems. "you must be really smart, huh?" it comes off more patronizing than she intends, but most days, carla doesn't speak to her at all. as if she, too, is repulsed. "you be a good girl, okay?" another squeeze of sherry's hands, reluctant to let go, the quiet whisper of love you as she kisses her cheek, before rising back to her full height, smile cautiously treading the line of polite. "thanks, derek," in the corner of her eye, she sees something : a wince, a wrinkle of the nose, some judgement for an apparent transgression in referring to him as if he is any other man.

"i'm sure you're real busy though, i won't keep you longer than i have, but - sorry, could i borrow carla for a few minutes? just so i can copy your notes on g to keep record of - and i always get lost looking for the bathroom around here."

" biomolecular virology. " she interjects, an impulse to give specifics in her chosen field. her life's work, all the passion and time poured into her studying, learning the genome sequencing, the various forms of transcription. while the other girl read fairytale stories and wore a ribbon in her pixie-cut hair, carla read every article and journal published about pathogenesis. there were no shining knights, no dreams of school dances, of being asked by a boy for a dance, only the models and photographs of slides categorizing behind her eyelids as she lay in bed, trying to sleep.

her instinct bubbles up her throat to dive into more, explain what about it fascinates her, the beauty she finds in not just observation but in direct intervention. crafting the perfect strain which will slowly take over a host from the inside out, in the same way love takes over a body. the closest thing to godhood she can ever fathom. romantic.

the redhead seems about as dumb as they come. her words lilting in that particular way only a woman would ever talk to another woman. this is always how it is, men always see carla as competition, a joke, a toy, but women were more subtle. they oft pretended to care for her, to care about her while they wove their insidious plans behind her back in hushed whispers. at least the men hated her out in the open.

" yes-- very smart. " her voice is tight, quiet and high. no matter how much make up she piles on, the way she squeezes her eyes to mimic crows' feet, the dark burgundy lip stick she rubs under them in false bags to show how much her body has suffered for her work, she retains youth in so many ways the clothes cannot cover up. she dresses her older than she is, high heels and conservative dresses. like the women derek wears on his arm.

she lifts her chin and looks down her nose at the woman, until she stands and towers over carla. instinctively, she can see him move to eclipse her, hide her behind him. the paper crinkles when redfield says his name, without any sort of honorific. her stomach churns. then suddenly those blue eyes are on her and she is caught in a spotlight.

" i-- " her own gaze swings to derek, again his face: the corner of his mouth, his eyelids, thick, straight brows. anywhere there might be some subtle signal for her to behave a certain way. " ... uhm, " she peels the clipboard away from her chest once more and looks down at it. of course it is far to complicated for redfield to understand. dumbing concepts down to a digestible form has never been something she practiced however.

he is stone-still. she struggles to receive anything from him as he stares at her and she glances up at him. his pager goes off, a few buzzing beeps and he retrieves the massive cellular phone from inside his coat. dismissing carla, no harm in explaining things before they must move on to the next appointment. another girl in another room with another virus.

it had been frustrating- being one of the only women in the rpd. it was a constant fight to be taken seriously, to be more in their eyes than a trophy to be won. but not with s.t.a.r.s. not with alpha team; even in the flirtation, in the teasing, there was respect.

it feels the same here in a way that makes her nostalgic.

leon describes the first time he saw her, and she can't help but agree; memories are funny. because this same moment exists in her past, and yet she could never pick it out from a thousand others.

but marvin she will always remember. his kind eyes. his good humor.

his body splayed out by irons' desk in the pit- all that life ripped away with nothing left but a note.

jill can't help but wonder who it was that deterred leon. must've been someone that liked her; to most of them she was just a stuck up bitch who thought she was out of their league. she's glad it wasn't all of them...

she can't help but laugh again, sighing softly as she pinches the bridge of her nose, "i'm starting to think we were the only ones at the station that didn't know." partners from the start, but too young and stupid to see the depth of it.

now it feels like this ring on her finger has been there her whole life.

he talks about another world and gives him a smile, gives him a, "maybe," but it's impossible to imagine a life where she chose anyone but chris. that's not what the hypothetical is truly about, though; she can see the weight of loss in his eyes and that faded reflection, that dream of a better world. the same dream of a better world haunts them all.

taking the compliment feels wrong in the wake of all the death she'd left behind. and it feels wrong without holding carlos' name right there beside her own. but she doesn't argue, just lets the light tone carry forward, like a tiny raft in this vast sea of horrors, "wait until i tell you i did it all in a mini skirt and tube top." again, young and stupid. but at least she'd looked good.

" maybe... " he would not know. outside that one tour, he never saw the place as it was, only the tomb it became. dozens of corpses all wearing the same clothes he was, like hallways full of his own bodies.

a clueless kind of love, like in the cheesy young adult novels he sees lining the window displays along the streets he walks downtown, toward his favorite chinese food place, his favorite bar, his favorite corner to pick up some comfort by the hour. outwardly, he has the knee-jerk reaction to call it stupid, dismiss it so it does not hurt him so much that he is utterly alone. the only contacts he has are people he has worked with. krauser, dead. sasha, paralyzed by his hand. luis, dead. angela, traumatized. the only ones who remain are hunnigan, who is literally paid to deal with him, then claire. claire is too good for him. he does not blame her for refusing to stay-- no, that is a coping mechanism. she would stay with him if he let her.

but he does not bend, he does not open up his rib cage and show his vulnerable insides. he cannot handle another heartbreak.

a slash of red, like an open wound in the universe. dismissed in the same instance. even if he ever caught ada, he would not know what to do with her.

" a tube top and-- " he cants his head, brows lifting, disappearing into the fringe of hair obscuring part of his face.

leon's eyes scan her, her entire body covered in shapewear. she looks like a woman who should be casually jogging around a park at four in the morning, ponytail swinging in time with the patter of her high-end tennis shoes, if not for the portions of skin peeking through tears, runs from snags, singed edges of her sleeves burned by gunfire.

" got any pictures because i lost my imagination decades ago. " he had unconsciously leaned forward, to the edge of his seat, hooked by the bait of her words.

outside the crowd roars again into an onslaught of questions. he climbs to his feet, tender steps as every jolt of his body sends a muscle spasm through his back. another surgery is on the horizon.

at the window, he slips a finger between the blinds and peers down. the three spokesmen have left the podium and move into a car. another has stepped up to face the audience of bloodthirsty reporters. he does not recognize any of them.

the mere feet spanning the table have been stretching into an endless gulf; the past trying to drag her back down and away from reality, away from sheva. but, in an instant, it shatters. all because of an open hand outstretched before her- turned upwards like a flower to the sun. jill feels a flash of guilt, of uncertainty, but when she meets those dark eyes it isn't pity or pacification that finds her, but a warmth that only comes from being truly seen.

so she grasps her like an anchor.

her own palm is soft; callouses faded after so long removed from both the beauty and roughness of the world. jill can't hide the tears that prick at the corners of her eyes or cover the slight trembling of her hand, all she can do is bite hard into her lip in an attempt to force the emotion back down.

but how can she? how can she when met with human touch? how can she when faced with sheva's earnest kindness? jill's held it all in for years as she's been prodded and studied and looked at as less than a person. she's kept it all swallowed down in the mandatory therapy sessions; refusing to give them a reason to mark her unstable. even with chris, she's done her best to keep steady- unable to stomach the way his features twist in heartbreak for her.

it would be all too easy to crumble right here and now in this quiet restaurant, but sheva has already done more than enough for her. she doesn't need to carry this too.

so she breathes deep and focuses hard on sheva's words, trying to picture the healing of kijuju. trying to envision how it must look as life finds its rhythm again and color returns to the world. she'd been unable to do anything to help keep them safe, but at least she'd been stopped before she could destroy them completely.

eyes glassy, she glances away, managing a soft laugh even if it comes out choked, "chris will throw a fit if he hears you call him that." he used to roll his eyes at that word- *hero*- but now it raises something darker. she can see the warring anger and grief each time he hears it, and it breaks her heart that he can't hold his successes. sometimes it's as though he's blind to the lives he saved; too caught up in the see of ghosts.

he is a hero.

the only one between the two of them.

at the thought of visiting kijuju, there's a flash of terror, like lightning through the steady rainfall of guilt. an irrational worry of becoming that thing again. a pathetic fear that she'll be known in an instant. at least with the latter, she would deserve whatever came from it...

swallowing hard, jill smiles- genuine, but tight around the edges, "someday, i'd really like that."

her fingers curl around the other's, slow and tender. not a trap sprung to ensnare jill, but connect. a promise always to catch her. sheva could never put into words why she feels the way she does, as if she has gained some love for the woman through her journey with the man who moved the world for jill. perhaps that adoration rubbed off on sheva. she feels as if she is a lifeline for both of them. chris would have killed himself looking for jill and now as jill looks for him, sheva must be there once more.

she laughs, grateful for the release of tension and sorrow. her smile is big, real.

" i know he would, that's how i know he is one. he's so, hmm... bashful, i guess i'd say. " her head tilts, a cascade of braids falling over her shoulder, along the tattoo marking her as a warrior. " or maybe, i'm just used to blowhards. our team is full of people who like inflate their egos. " and it is well deserved. the west african branch has been handling this current outbreak incredibly well given the circumstances. everyone still breathing has been gifted medals of valor, promotions and praise. they take their commendations happily, and perhaps it is just part of their culture, but they celebrate louder in honor of their fallen brothers. " we fight for those who cannot and i can't allow guilt to dim my light, i shine for my people and for the fallen. "

she bears the dead as much as she fights for the living.

from the corner of her eye, she sees the older woman moving toward their table, a large serving tray balanced on her upturned palm. she stops beside their table and sets the plates before them. sheva gives a small squeeze to jill's hand then release her.

" thank you, auntie. this looks delicious. " she takes up the wooden chopsticks set on the napkin beside her plate. the woman nods to them and shuffles over to the counter where she had been when they walked in. " i hope you will. we've been getting sponsors to help pay for clean up. terrasave has been working just as hard as anyone on my team. i've even got to meet his sister. "

a secret smile flickers across her features.