#jakexsherry

RE6 ends on an apocalyptic note, and Chris Redfield leads a small group of survivors in the aftermath. Who should join them but Wesker, somehow alive again and as infatuated with Chris as ever. Chris would have to be losing his mind to love his old rival. Apparently he’s halfway there, though, because whenever he sleeps he’s leading a double life — one without zombies where he and Wesker are married.

(I’m trying to write stuff, much less grasp this new otp, please forgive me I’m rusty at fanfic. This is my first attempt at Jake and Sherry, technically so...)

Warning for language and blood 

This fic has no context it’s just an experimental drabble.

He took her healing powers for granted until she was lifeless in his arms, with blood running in rivulets between closed eyes and matting rapidly on the back of her blonde head. He’d seen cuts mesh back together seamlessly in seconds, he’d seen her blood-slicked fingers frantically squeeze a bullet out so the skin could close over the wound, and he’d had to use his large hands to set her broken arm bones into place while she hissed in discomfort as they melded back together.

There was always so much goddamn blood with her. If he’d let himself worry about it, he’d have gone insane long ago, before this godforsaken and ill-fated mission.

“Sherry,” Jake said, the smell of blood stinging his nostrils. Panic was steadily mounting inside his chest unbidden; the fact that the flow of blood had not started to stem itself was not a good sign. He swallowed and shifted his position, moving Sherry’s body with him quietly, icy eyes flicking constantly from her to the door he’d barred as best he could in the scramble to get her to safety. Satisfied that no B.O.Ws appeared to be trying to break the door down yet, he let his gaze wander back to her face, scared of the ghostly palor she seemed to be taking on. “Come on, super girl,” he growled, patting her cheek with a blood soaked glove. “We’re both supposed to get out of here, it was my turn to escort your ass, remember?”

His voice cracked the slightest on the last word and he quickly cleared his throat.

“Goddamnit Sherry,” he rasped, words taking on a desperation. He took his hands from her shoulders long enough to pull his gloves off and start dabbing at the crimson splotches. It wasn’t hard for him to locate the gash that was the source of the oozing; it was wide and dark and lethal looking. “Fuck. Why the fuck isn’t it closing!”

He was shaking now, his fingers held uncertainly above her still frame, unsure of what to do for her. Sherry always just healed, that was just how things went. A slip up, a wound; Jake’s stifled but present panic, his worry, his instincts to take care of her would surface and he’d quash them down, detain them inside of his chest where the boiled and frothed with the helplessness he felt. All he could do was protect her from further hostiles while her virus did it’s work, and he hated it, hated having to listen to her moan and writhe in pain while he did nothing.

It was maddening, and now Jake realized just how fragile it all really was.

Sherry was not immortal; her blood couldn’t protect her forever, and it may have finally let her down.

He may have finally let her down.

“Goddamnit!” Jake yelled, one of his fists colliding with the solid concrete wall behind him. He looked down at her where she rested on his lap, and it struck him how small she was, how bright her blood was. He felt a sting in his eyes.

She stirred. A fluttering of soft blonde lashes, and a pitiful groan that sounded like music to his ears. Tired gray-blue eyes opened, though they were cloudy with confusion and pain, and did not immediately focus on him.

“Sherry,” Jake breathed in unadulterated relief. Her gaze met his for little more than a second before her face contorted in pain, lids closing once more. He gritted his teeth as he helplessly watched the gaping wound on her forehead slowly begin to close itself, blood gushing from it while she writhed against his knees. He grabbed her hand and felt her fingers curl tightly around his palm. “That’s it, super girl, you got this.”

The pain must have been excruciating, if the tears that welled up and escaped down one of her cheeks was of any indication. He wiped it away with a single swipe of his large thumb just as the virus finished it’s work, the cut disappearing without the slightest trace beneath her red-stained hair.

Sherry let out a sound close to a whimper when it was done, then slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him properly. A swell of affection ballooned in Jake’s stomach as he looked down at who was, without any doubt in his mind, the strongest, most badass woman he had ever met.

“Jake…?” she managed, one of her hands coming up to press against her aching skull, and the sound of her voice had him impulsively bending to press his lips against her temple, heedless of the dried up blood. Then he retreated and pushed some of her bloody hair out of her eyes, a forced, crooked smirk creeping onto his features despite the lingering fear inside him.