Child Mine :: Crossover :: PG :: no pairings
Title: Child Mine
Fandom: [Crossover] Resident Evil / Tales of the Abyss
Pairings: None; subtle hints at Luke/Tear. NOTICE: Despite the insane amount of crack and constant joking, this does not, under any pretense, contain any trace and/or support of the ridiculous OOCness that is the Wesker/Jill pairing. The first person to suggest that it does gets shot in the leg.
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, general, drama, crack, motherleh-sonleh fluff
Word count: 5,378
Spoilers: Mentions spoilers pertaining to both series; for Resident Evil, games 1 and 5.
Summary: Based on this crack RP post. After learning more than he ever wanted to from Sync, Luke goes to Jill for comfort -- and the truth about his past.
“Oh, come on-” Jill toggled the switch on and off a few times, listening to the grinding gurgle of the sink’s garbage disposal as it struggled and fought (a losing battle) against whatever had lodged itself in the drain this time. After several attempts, she finally sighed and set aside the dishes she’d been rinsing, drying her hands before crouching and searching the cabinets beneath the sink.
Chances were she’d end up calling a plumber, whatever the problem was - because some frustrating irony had decided long ago that while Jill was among the best in a variety of complicated and delicate procedures in the field, she lacked almost any talent when it came to home maintenance - but as stubborn as she was, she would at least try some home remedies first. It was a matter of pride, not frugality; she “depended” on Wesker enough as it was, and while the cost of a house call job was only pocket change from her husband’s funds, she hadn’t been reduced to flippantly pulling out one of his credit cards at the first sign of something going wrong. No, most of her life was built on plain hard work. She’d endeavor to keep it that way.
“Mom?”
Jill pushed aside the Glass Plus and a bucket of cleaning supplies as she called back over her shoulder. “Yeah, honey? I’m down here.”
There was a pause as slow footsteps drew closer, moving around the island in the middle of the room. “…Can I talk to you?”
The hesitance in his tone immediately caught her attention. Having to partly untangle herself from the small forest of bottles and containers, Jill drew back to lean on her heels and look up at the figure standing nearby. “Sure thi- Luke!” The name was part question, part exclamation - she was instantly on her feet and in front of him, gingerly taking his face in her hands and examining the scrapes and bruises along his cheeks, jaw, and forehead. There was a particularly nasty and swollen shadow around his eye that contrasted violently with his pale skin, and the lower parts of his arms didn’t look much better than his battered face. “What happened? It wasn’t-?”
“Not the Licker, no,” he assured her, in an uncharacteristic tone that almost fell flat. She relaxed slightly, but then her expression gained a shade of stern.
“Who did it?”
Luke stared distractedly and solemnly aside; he hadn’t made eye contact with her at all so far, she realized. She waited patiently for an answer, but at length he only replied with what looked like some difficulty, “Can we talk somewhere?” Catching the unspoken in private there, Jill slowly nodded with a soft word of agreement and paused just long enough to dampen a paper towel and grab the travel-size first aid kit in the pantry.
Luke didn’t say a word during the walk. He just silently let Jill lead him out back across the porch and down the stone walkway, finally to the pergola that sat a little ways from the house. Inside were two bench swings facing each other - and a small but visible camera in the top right corner, watching the scene - and Jill guided him to the one steeped deepest in shadow with a gentle touch of her hand to his shoulder, keeping them out of the bright but sinking late sun. Turning to him, she dabbed tenderly at the cut above his eyebrow that had just begun to bleed fresh. She honestly already had an idea of who was to blame - Wesker was away and it didn’t remotely resemble his handiwork, although Luke had never given him a reason to raise his hand, anyway - but she didn’t push. This was one son who didn’t keep things from her; if he did, it was never for long. She just waited.
After about a minute, Luke at last met her gaze - and while Jill knew he was a young man on the verge of adulthood, technicalities aside, she couldn’t help seeing (as she was sure she always would) the child that he still was in those bright eyes, oddly innocent and still naïve in many ways. They honestly hadn’t changed all that much since the first time she’d seen them, although now there was pain and knowledge and the lack of the childish joy she’d once been able to fill him with just by smiling at him. He had the eyes of a boy who’d been through too much for his age, but they were still alert, curious, caring, emotional; not hard and jaded - closed off - like Sync’s, thank God; not like Ion, either, or even Nill, who knew of pains that Luke never had but pulled through and smiled regardless. Seven years had gone by so unbelievably quick, and yet Jill had managed to do something right in protecting this one in her own way.
“Why was I created?”
Jill watched him for a couple beats as if hoping to read just what he was thinking, but then only lowered her hand and gave him the answer he already knew. “Your father was studying fomicry at the time. You were his first-”
“I know,” said Luke quickly, and then winced apologetically at interrupting her. “I mean…” Looking away again, he stared out across the yard before dropping his eyes to the floorboards. “…Everyone else… they all have something about them. Something Dad studies, or that he can use. I always thought that maybe I was - the normal one, but-” He returned his full attention to Jill, and she could already see that he was convinced of this thought process. There would be no skirting the issue as she’d done before now. “What was Dad trying to do with fomicry? Why do I really have these headaches?”
It was Jill’s turn to break eye contact, but she did so as she shifted slightly and sat directly beside him, distractedly folding the bloodied napkin. She was undeniably irritated, but it was more frustration than anger. Goddammit, Sync. Regardless of what Wesker may have told him for whatever reason - or let slip around him, which was the more probable case - that boy was too astute for his own good sometimes.
She’d always known the day would come when she would have to tell Luke the truth, but whenever it occurred to her, she could only think of how young he still was. Even now it felt wrong, as if she were dumping this on a child half his age. As quickly as Kanda, Haine, and Laura had grown up, Luke had done so twice as fast and it probably showed in Jill more than it did in Luke himself - maybe she’d been wrong somewhat, babying him as she had and still did, something that made Wesker look down on him more than usual, that set him aside from the others in a way that ironically left him vulnerable. She didn’t play favorites, of course, but there had been a chance to shelter Luke in a way that she hadn’t been given with the others; she hadn’t thought twice before seizing it and holding tight, especially when he didn’t outright reject it like some of his siblings had.
But whatever her choices, she knew Luke was strong. Softhearted didn’t mean weak, whatever her husband believed and taught. She owed Luke this explanation and it was ultimately inevitable that he receive it.
“Your father knows more about it than I do,” she began slowly, “but - simply put, you’re what’s known as a Seventh Fonist.” She watched him, unsure how much significance that held.
“You mean… like Ion?”
Jill nodded. “Kind of. Being a replica gives you that title by default, so Sync’s one, too. You three might be similar in some ways, but your case… is different somehow, Luke. It’s rare - besides you, I’ve only heard of one… as has your father, as far as I know.”
Luke needed only a couple seconds to make the connection. “…Asch?” Jill nodded again, deciding to let him work out the rest of that part himself. He was silent again, but now looking more thoughtful than troubled as he leaned forward with his arms on his knees. The conflict and uncertainty were still there, but that torn look was gone for the moment, at least. “A Seventh Fonist,” he echoed quietly. “What does that… make me? What am I?”
“You’re you,” said Jill firmly, setting a hand on his hair. She leaned a little ways around in front of him to try and catch his eye. “That hasn’t changed. It never will. What we can do - that doesn’t make us who we are. It’s what we choose to do that matters.”
“And what if I couldn’t help it?” he asked suddenly. “What if I was forced to do something - something I couldn’t control? Wouldn’t it still be…?”
Frowning, Jill touched his chin and easily directed his face towards hers. “Hey,” she said gently, her eyes considerably harder. “What are you talking about?”
“Am I a weapon?” Luke blurted. Jill stared, taking in that unmistakable doubt in his eyes, a fear that his worst assumption would be confirmed. A fear she knew all too well.
“Luke-” She wanted to ask just what all he’d been told, to hear every detail and know every fear and insecurity of his so she could banish them all at once; after a couple seconds, her hand moved to brush his bangs aside. “…You have a gift,” she told him kindly. “If you choose to make it a weapon, then yes - it would be. Not you. But that’s your call to make.”
“But… if Dad…”
“He…” Jill hesitated. “He and I… have our differences,” she went on more solemnly, with a look that said as you know. That was one thing she’d never been able to hide from her kids. “But there’s one thing we’ve always agreed on: there are no secrets between us about you all. The tests he runs, everything - he explains it to me beforehand. He’s never said anything about using your power as a weapon.”
Not that she trusted Wesker to be completely open with her. He did what he could to keep her more or less satisfied because that kept her quiet, and quiet meant compliant, and compliant meant less trouble on his end. Jill had pressed him more than once on Luke’s hyperresonance, wanting to know anything and everything just as she would with all the children; she’d been assured that Wesker had collected all the data he’d needed, that actually teaching Luke to harness his ability would be more trouble than it was worth - and, in a moment of less patience on her husband’s part, that she should simply appreciate the company of a subject who no longer held any of his interest.
A subtle insinuation, but Jill had caught it all the same and had no choice but to trust his word on the issue.
“But - this… power of mine,” Luke mused seriously. “What does it do?”
“I know it’s called a ‘hyperresonance,’ and that it’s hard to learn,” she recalled. “Basically, it’s… a huge source of energy, you could say, and you could potentially control - Luke?” She frowned again as she caught the instant drop of his eyes halfway through that. “What’s wrong?”
“So you don’t… you haven’t seen it?” he asked more quietly.
“…No,” she admitted hesitantly. “But - what’s wrong with that?”
“You didn’t know about Ion and Sync before they were created, right? Or Sync, until…”
The reminder touched a sensitive place in her heart, but Jill kept her expression straight, as usual. “No,” she repeated, softer.
“…Was it the same with me?”
There was no helping the slight thinning of her eyes at the question, or hiding it when he suddenly looked over. She exhaled silently. She recalled the day of Luke’s “birth” as clearly as if it were yesterday - in part because sometimes it honestly felt like yesterday. She’d been doing laundry at the time when Wesker called her down into the lab, and as startled as Jill had been to discover an unfamiliar child in their basement, she’d been caught even more off guard by the casual order to simply “take him.”
“Yes,” she confessed at length. “I didn’t know about fomicry until then.” Luke seemed to wince at that answer, quickly looking aside again, and she caught the implication. “Hey,” she said more solidly. “He did not create you in secret for that - if that were the case-” Jill stopped and closed her eyes briefly, taking a moment to swallow the pain and blame. Luke was old enough to hear it. “…You’ve seen Laura and Sync,” she murmured. “They’re your father’s idea of what makes a person strong. It’s not,” she emphasized, voice stern, “but it’s how he does things. It’s how he sees people.” His experimentation on Jill herself was another case in point, but she counted herself lucky that Luke didn’t know about that. P30 was a special matter, something she hadn’t been too proud to all but plead with Wesker to keep a secret from as many of the children as possible. “If he wanted you to be a weapon,” she went on more somberly, “you’d know it.”
“That might be the case with them,” said Luke quickly, perhaps already having run over the same thought prior, “but… still - if he could just use me whenever he wanted - if he made me into some kind of… backup plan, or something, that he could control…”
“Luke…” Sync. Trigger phrase be damned: she was certain that Luke’s hyperresonance was, at best, a last-ditch effort, a failsafe of sorts, something thrown in to make him remotely useful to his creator beyond being a scientific breakthrough. Wesker was a criminal, a terrorist, but he was subtle. He was smart. He wasn’t about to go blowing up any cities when working underground was his strength and in his - and his family’s - best interest. It was also yet another way to keep Jill in line, knowing that her coddled favorite could be reduced to a ticking time bomb on the right whim. An unlikely whim, but possible nonetheless.
“That’s not going to happen, baby.”
“But how do you know - how are you so sure?” Luke’s voice had picked up, emotional again - pained, even, like the undeniably frightened look in his eyes. “If it’s all I’m good for and I can’t even control it myself - why wouldn’t he just-”
“Because. You’re. His.” Jill slipped off the bench to crouch in front of him, taking his face in gentle but firm hands and holding it, not letting him turn away. Her expression was final, her eyes clear, and her words solid. “That’s not all you’re good for, and whatever you might have been created for, whatever you can or can’t do, you’re his son-”
“-Who he could create again if anything happened to me-”
“Luke-”
“I know you don’t see me that way - I know what you and Ion say - but Dad’s not the same! I know how he sees people-” His breath came out as a low, restrained hiss, his eyes shutting tight as if to block out the truth he didn’t want to hear himself admitting. “If you don’t matter to him, you’re expendable. I know the kinds of things he’s done, Mom, and I can’t - I can’t even remember him ever talking to me like I wasn’t just - some stranger or something! If that’s really all I am-”
“Luke.” He stopped, his eyes opening again, but they remained fixed firmly on his knees. Jill waited a few beats, letting him collect himself before speaking. “He created each and every one of you himself,” she emphasized slowly. “And whatever he’s put some of the others through, he’s never let a thing happen to any of you outside of this house and he has never thrown anyone in this family away for any reason.” She wavered inwardly, but this next part was true despite the lack of affectionate motivation: “…And without him - I couldn’t protect you all. He helps keep you safe. Ion’s medicine? He makes it because he chooses to. As far as I know, he’s the only one who can make it.”
She shook her head. “…Luke. You know he’s killed before. I know you do - and you’re old enough to hear it straight.” His eyes widened a little before narrowing again in a cringe. “He’s killed to keep us safe. You’re all his children, and he’s not going to let anyone or anything take you from us. He made that promise to me himself before any of you came along.” She swept her thumb over his cheek. “…Part of what keeps us together is the knowledge that we couldn’t raise all of you right without each other. We each go about it differently - we contribute in different ways - but it’s a joint effort. That’s parenthood, Luke, and it’s a two-person job. One that we agreed to a long time ago.” That brush turned into more of a caress, her voice lowering further. “…Trust me when I say that I know your father,” she said tenderly. “And I promise you - he’s not going to do what you’re thinking. No one is.”
The way Luke held her unwavering gaze - Jill recognized what it was. A desperate desire to believe in her, trust her, put all his faith in her when he didn’t know what to believe himself. He exhaled sharply, closed his eyes, and then he was instantly on his knees with her, hugging her tight. Jill sighed as she held him, stroking his hair and murmuring. “It’s okay, Luke… You’re okay… I’ve got you, baby.”
They stayed like that for a long couple minutes, somewhere during which she began to rock gently out of habit, just as she’d done when he was little; just like those first few weeks after his creation when he’d crawled into her bed each night and cuddled up beside her, burying himself beneath her comforter and bursting into a fit of giggles when she feigned surprise at discovering him. He’d been a quick learner, swiftly going from the helpless status of a newborn to the mindset of his projected age of ten within a year; even so, he’d slept with her every night for the first two months straight, and then on and off again when a particularly stormy night or startling nightmare woke him up. Luke had matured beyond that stage years ago, of course, as well as being held, but now he seemed as small and dependent as he’d been back then - scared and looking for reassurance from whatever monster was lurking in his closet this time.
Jill smiled softly at the thought. He’d have scoffed, spluttered, and denied it if she’d said the comparison out loud.
When his grip finally loosened somewhat, she spoke up again, still in the same calm, soothing tone. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I just… didn’t think it was necessary. And I didn’t want you to get crazy ideas in your head.”
Luke took a moment to reply; if she expected to hear emotion in his voice, it was stifled. “No… it’s okay, Mom. Thanks… for telling me.”
She rubbed his back comfortingly with a small smile. “Anytime.” Caressing his hair again, she turned towards him, but not enough to make him pull away. “You know I love you, right?”
He nodded against her shoulder, his tone beginning to gain the typical teenage boy awkwardness in response to something so sentimental. “Yeah.” Finally, he drew back, his face a little flushed but his eyes dry. He met his mother’s gaze confidently, though, his smile looking tired and sheepish. “So then - my headaches - they’re…”
“A side effect. You have a lot of power, Luke, and a strong body to handle it. It’s just a way of showing the stress.” Jill smoothed his bangs aside. “…All of that wasn’t easy to ask about, I know,” she acknowledged. “I’m proud of you for coming to me instead of letting it eat you up.” He nodded again and ran a hand through his hair, collecting himself in whatever way he hadn’t already, and her smile grew as she took his hand and invited him back onto the swing with her. Another short silence followed, but it was a more peaceful one, almost thoughtful, and she didn’t press him for his voice. She could feel another question coming, and as usual, she just waited, taking the opportunity to address the couple nicks on his face that had begun bleeding fresh.
“So…” Luke began, rubbing the side of his neck uncertainly. “How… how did you and Dad meet, anyway?”
Jill blinked, surprised, and paused in the middle of applying a small Band-Aid to his jaw. That was actually the first time any of the kids had asked - most just didn’t care, and the couple who might hadn’t ever voiced the question out loud. “Our jobs,” she replied, easily and honestly - the same response she gave to the few non-family people who asked her in polite conversation. She honestly didn’t socialize often these days outside of family and work, the only notable (and yet entirely unimpressionable at the same time) exceptions being the occasional communal events that she and Wesker went to out of necessity: something that the two of them actually agreed on in opinion, because both of them hated the things. His work required a hell of a lot of funding, grants, and back doors, and even he couldn’t bullshit his way into everyone’s wallet with words alone. No, maybe once every year or two, some promising new name would pop up and he’d give Jill a week’s notice - not a word more - and they’d attend looking like any normal couple. There, he would make whatever false promises or corrupt deals under the table that he needed to and Jill would behave like any good object, staying out of the way and talking with the equally unimportant wives of men of Wesker’s stature. She sometimes wondered if her presence really made a difference, but a surprising number of corporate heads in the biotechnology business were family men, it turned out. Who knew.
Then again, talented liar though he was, Wesker’s social skills left much - if not everything, she thought - to be desired, and more than once she’d saved his ass in a conversation. Science and threats, he could do in his sleep. Casual small talk? No. His distaste for it became all too obvious too quickly, and Jill’s helpful interjections were something he tolerated for the sake of the bigger picture.
But necessary or not, from time to time Jill didn’t mind to a degree; she made the most out of the occasions, at least. It was a chance to get out of the house, to look nice and have a breather away from what was her prison as much as her home, even if it was at the expense of going as Wesker’s property, more or less, faking smiles and even light affection when cued.
“We worked together for a few years,” she went on finally. “He was actually my superior for a long time.”
Luke was visibly surprised himself. “And then he just proposed to you?”
Proposed. Could it really be called that? Betraying her, trying to kill her, kidnapping and using her and then offering her a position that her superiors would never be able to resist? Proposal implied something personal and meaningful. Marriage. This was an arrangement of convenient circumstances, business and more than a little blackmail all under a false situation that the outside world bought easily.
“Mm-hm. After a while.” Jill’s tone was convincing, but the way Luke glanced away again raised her concern. “Luke?”
“…If you weren’t… happy, you wouldn’t stay, right?” He looked at her again and Jill met it with a trained eye, not betraying even a hint of her dislike at where this was headed.
“What’s this all about?” she asked, her puzzlement partly true. Had Sync also…?
“Nothing,” he said quickly, coloring. “It’s just that - sometimes…” His voice lowered. “…You and Dad don’t really… get along, so…”
“…No, you’re right,” she agreed a little heavily. Don’t really get along was putting it mildly. “We don’t always see eye-to-eye.” She cast a subtle glance over her shoulder at the security camera. “But that happens with every couple - it happens a lot more when you’re married, and you know how his job is. It just takes its toll on us sometimes.”
“Then… you both still…?” The additional flare of color in Luke’s face said what he didn’t finish and Jill smiled warmly - even as she inwardly rejected any and all notion of the thought. Neither she nor Wesker was stupid: neither had ever felt a shred of affection for the other and each knew it. Jill herself was useful; nothing more. Her perception of Wesker was a bit more complicated - she hated what he did, what he was, what he put their children through, the company he kept. She hated him, and the day someone found a way to kill him would be a day of no tears from her, even if it would bring more complications than she liked to think about.
Even so. Reluctantly, grudgingly, Jill had to be grateful to him. She was grateful for their children, never possible without him; she had to appreciate that, for all the hell some of them had been through, Wesker did keep them under her wing. She had to harbor a borderline respect for him for protecting them, something she was painfully aware she couldn’t do without him, as she’d honestly told Luke. Wesker’s first loyalty was undoubtedly to himself, but his family was second - above, at least, his business ties and outside matters, even if it was because the kids were quite literally his creations and because control and dominance - power - dictated most if not everything he did. In his eyes, his possessions were entirely his own, his work included, and his children were his work - as was Jill, among a few other choice words - and any threat of removing his power over them was countered firmly, even violently. Jill wasn’t afraid of him, but the man admittedly had a terrifying superiority complex.
His cooperation against Kazuya had said that much. The look Wesker had given her as he’d taken her wrist in what others might well have mistaken for a tender gesture, that falsely fond smile (or maybe it had been honest, but not at her - it was at the thing he made her into, his pet project and her biggest fear) as he leaned just close enough to give her the quiet order (“Protect our own, Jill.”) before she’d felt the burning rush of the virus in her veins, not even realizing prior that he’d slipped a hidden needle painlessly into her forearm - that had said he recognized her dependence on him. That had emphasized it. As much as she’d hated him for it at the time, by the end of the fight she’d only been grudgingly thankful and relieved.
But respect and gratitude weren’t love. Jill had never deluded herself with thinking that Wesker could love, and she’d never been in danger of some ignorant, one-sided feelings. Except for anger, nothing that passed between them was emotional.
Once - only once - several years ago, before she met Chris, back when she was younger and stupid and still feeling the sting of a loveless marriage and a harsh fate, there had been one rare moment in which Wesker’s touch didn’t entirely disgust her. He’d already subjected her to so much by that point that she was a far cry from shy towards anything he could do - but that one time, just that one time, between her concealed hurt and emotional neglect and one of those Goddamn brushes of his hand, his proximity stressing that he was still a warm, flesh-and-blood human under everything - he’d actually, briefly been something she wanted. Or that she at least wouldn’t have minded having. And she hadn’t been able to hide it.
But that still wasn’t love, and so Jill now had no choice but to twist a lie into a partial truth as she finally answered Luke. “We respect each other,” she said with a small smile. “If we didn’t, this place would fall apart fast. You all have helped to keep us together - but our feelings haven’t changed since the day we were married.”
She hated being dishonest with them, but this was one truth she couldn’t bear to show them. Most had figured it out already, but even then she was stubbornly determined to keep this family within the relative boundaries of what that word meant. As much as was possible, anyway, given how dysfunctional, patch-worked, and oftentimes wrecked it was. This was one freedom Wesker had left to her and she’d never let go of it since.
Luke smiled back at her; it was just as small, but it was relieved on some level, or at least reassured. While it pained Jill further for lying, she was relieved herself to see him recover.
The sun was gone by now, vanished behind the distant hills but leaving enough light to illuminate the property in a purple-pink touch. “Let’s get you some ice for that.” She indicated his eye, now gone from the previous shade to a blatant blue-black. “And you can tell me what you feel like having for dinner - sound good?”
A minute later they were making their way back towards the house side-by-side. As grateful as Jill was for the shift in mood, there was one thing she had to say before they left the subject entirely. “Don’t be too quick to take what Sync says to heart,” she said softly, and saw Luke’s shoulders tense. “You know how he is,” she went on, frowning a little to herself. “He’ll make the worst of any situation if he can.”
“Do you think-” Luke began, but then stopped just as quickly and mirrored his mother’s expression, albeit more openly. “…He’s always been… this way. Do you think he’ll ever…?”
Jill put an arm around his shoulders, turning over his unfinished question and recalling the many similar thoughts she’d had before now. “Everyone works differently,” she replied finally. Of course, not everyone was as broken as Sync. “Some take longer than others. Either way-” She gave him a somber but genuine smile. “-I’ll never stop trying.”
Holding her look, Luke slowly nodded and turned ahead again. As he stepped in front to open the backdoor, he inquired, “Would it be okay if I went out this weekend? Just with Tear - she’s heading back to her brother’s next week, so…”
Resisting the urge to smirk slightly, Jill tilted her head in thought. “I don’t see why not. Where you taking her?”
“I figured just to - nowhere!” he half-sputtered, instantly blushing. “I mean - we’re just meeting, I’m not - really-” Jill laughed, saving him the remains of his flustered reasoning.
“I know. I didn’t mean it like that.” Some of that smirk did slip through, though, and Luke caught it as he closed the door behind him once they were back in the kitchen.
“Mom.”
She just waved over her shoulder as she made her way to the freezer. “I didn’t say a thing,” she pointed out, but then slowed as it occurred to her: Wesker was due home tonight, unless his plans had changed (which they oftentimes did, usually without notice). In that case… “I might be out tomorrow,” she told him, her hint of teasing gone. “Make sure you remember to take a cell with you, and call when you’re heading home. If I don’t answer, try Laura’s number.”
Luke nodded. “I know, I know.”
“Give Tear my regards either way.”
“I will - uh, pizza sounds good,” he offered in a brighter tone, a little too quickly to be casual. Jill smiled as she approached, offering him the bag of ice and pretending not to notice that obvious blush.
“Whatever you say, honey.”
Fandom: [Crossover] Resident Evil / Tales of the Abyss
Pairings: None; subtle hints at Luke/Tear. NOTICE: Despite the insane amount of crack and constant joking, this does not, under any pretense, contain any trace and/or support of the ridiculous OOCness that is the Wesker/Jill pairing. The first person to suggest that it does gets shot in the leg.
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, general, drama, crack, motherleh-sonleh fluff
Word count: 5,378
Spoilers: Mentions spoilers pertaining to both series; for Resident Evil, games 1 and 5.
Summary: Based on this crack RP post. After learning more than he ever wanted to from Sync, Luke goes to Jill for comfort -- and the truth about his past.
“Oh, come on-” Jill toggled the switch on and off a few times, listening to the grinding gurgle of the sink’s garbage disposal as it struggled and fought (a losing battle) against whatever had lodged itself in the drain this time. After several attempts, she finally sighed and set aside the dishes she’d been rinsing, drying her hands before crouching and searching the cabinets beneath the sink.
Chances were she’d end up calling a plumber, whatever the problem was - because some frustrating irony had decided long ago that while Jill was among the best in a variety of complicated and delicate procedures in the field, she lacked almost any talent when it came to home maintenance - but as stubborn as she was, she would at least try some home remedies first. It was a matter of pride, not frugality; she “depended” on Wesker enough as it was, and while the cost of a house call job was only pocket change from her husband’s funds, she hadn’t been reduced to flippantly pulling out one of his credit cards at the first sign of something going wrong. No, most of her life was built on plain hard work. She’d endeavor to keep it that way.
“Mom?”
Jill pushed aside the Glass Plus and a bucket of cleaning supplies as she called back over her shoulder. “Yeah, honey? I’m down here.”
There was a pause as slow footsteps drew closer, moving around the island in the middle of the room. “…Can I talk to you?”
The hesitance in his tone immediately caught her attention. Having to partly untangle herself from the small forest of bottles and containers, Jill drew back to lean on her heels and look up at the figure standing nearby. “Sure thi- Luke!” The name was part question, part exclamation - she was instantly on her feet and in front of him, gingerly taking his face in her hands and examining the scrapes and bruises along his cheeks, jaw, and forehead. There was a particularly nasty and swollen shadow around his eye that contrasted violently with his pale skin, and the lower parts of his arms didn’t look much better than his battered face. “What happened? It wasn’t-?”
“Not the Licker, no,” he assured her, in an uncharacteristic tone that almost fell flat. She relaxed slightly, but then her expression gained a shade of stern.
“Who did it?”
Luke stared distractedly and solemnly aside; he hadn’t made eye contact with her at all so far, she realized. She waited patiently for an answer, but at length he only replied with what looked like some difficulty, “Can we talk somewhere?” Catching the unspoken in private there, Jill slowly nodded with a soft word of agreement and paused just long enough to dampen a paper towel and grab the travel-size first aid kit in the pantry.
Luke didn’t say a word during the walk. He just silently let Jill lead him out back across the porch and down the stone walkway, finally to the pergola that sat a little ways from the house. Inside were two bench swings facing each other - and a small but visible camera in the top right corner, watching the scene - and Jill guided him to the one steeped deepest in shadow with a gentle touch of her hand to his shoulder, keeping them out of the bright but sinking late sun. Turning to him, she dabbed tenderly at the cut above his eyebrow that had just begun to bleed fresh. She honestly already had an idea of who was to blame - Wesker was away and it didn’t remotely resemble his handiwork, although Luke had never given him a reason to raise his hand, anyway - but she didn’t push. This was one son who didn’t keep things from her; if he did, it was never for long. She just waited.
After about a minute, Luke at last met her gaze - and while Jill knew he was a young man on the verge of adulthood, technicalities aside, she couldn’t help seeing (as she was sure she always would) the child that he still was in those bright eyes, oddly innocent and still naïve in many ways. They honestly hadn’t changed all that much since the first time she’d seen them, although now there was pain and knowledge and the lack of the childish joy she’d once been able to fill him with just by smiling at him. He had the eyes of a boy who’d been through too much for his age, but they were still alert, curious, caring, emotional; not hard and jaded - closed off - like Sync’s, thank God; not like Ion, either, or even Nill, who knew of pains that Luke never had but pulled through and smiled regardless. Seven years had gone by so unbelievably quick, and yet Jill had managed to do something right in protecting this one in her own way.
“Why was I created?”
Jill watched him for a couple beats as if hoping to read just what he was thinking, but then only lowered her hand and gave him the answer he already knew. “Your father was studying fomicry at the time. You were his first-”
“I know,” said Luke quickly, and then winced apologetically at interrupting her. “I mean…” Looking away again, he stared out across the yard before dropping his eyes to the floorboards. “…Everyone else… they all have something about them. Something Dad studies, or that he can use. I always thought that maybe I was - the normal one, but-” He returned his full attention to Jill, and she could already see that he was convinced of this thought process. There would be no skirting the issue as she’d done before now. “What was Dad trying to do with fomicry? Why do I really have these headaches?”
It was Jill’s turn to break eye contact, but she did so as she shifted slightly and sat directly beside him, distractedly folding the bloodied napkin. She was undeniably irritated, but it was more frustration than anger. Goddammit, Sync. Regardless of what Wesker may have told him for whatever reason - or let slip around him, which was the more probable case - that boy was too astute for his own good sometimes.
She’d always known the day would come when she would have to tell Luke the truth, but whenever it occurred to her, she could only think of how young he still was. Even now it felt wrong, as if she were dumping this on a child half his age. As quickly as Kanda, Haine, and Laura had grown up, Luke had done so twice as fast and it probably showed in Jill more than it did in Luke himself - maybe she’d been wrong somewhat, babying him as she had and still did, something that made Wesker look down on him more than usual, that set him aside from the others in a way that ironically left him vulnerable. She didn’t play favorites, of course, but there had been a chance to shelter Luke in a way that she hadn’t been given with the others; she hadn’t thought twice before seizing it and holding tight, especially when he didn’t outright reject it like some of his siblings had.
But whatever her choices, she knew Luke was strong. Softhearted didn’t mean weak, whatever her husband believed and taught. She owed Luke this explanation and it was ultimately inevitable that he receive it.
“Your father knows more about it than I do,” she began slowly, “but - simply put, you’re what’s known as a Seventh Fonist.” She watched him, unsure how much significance that held.
“You mean… like Ion?”
Jill nodded. “Kind of. Being a replica gives you that title by default, so Sync’s one, too. You three might be similar in some ways, but your case… is different somehow, Luke. It’s rare - besides you, I’ve only heard of one… as has your father, as far as I know.”
Luke needed only a couple seconds to make the connection. “…Asch?” Jill nodded again, deciding to let him work out the rest of that part himself. He was silent again, but now looking more thoughtful than troubled as he leaned forward with his arms on his knees. The conflict and uncertainty were still there, but that torn look was gone for the moment, at least. “A Seventh Fonist,” he echoed quietly. “What does that… make me? What am I?”
“You’re you,” said Jill firmly, setting a hand on his hair. She leaned a little ways around in front of him to try and catch his eye. “That hasn’t changed. It never will. What we can do - that doesn’t make us who we are. It’s what we choose to do that matters.”
“And what if I couldn’t help it?” he asked suddenly. “What if I was forced to do something - something I couldn’t control? Wouldn’t it still be…?”
Frowning, Jill touched his chin and easily directed his face towards hers. “Hey,” she said gently, her eyes considerably harder. “What are you talking about?”
“Am I a weapon?” Luke blurted. Jill stared, taking in that unmistakable doubt in his eyes, a fear that his worst assumption would be confirmed. A fear she knew all too well.
“Luke-” She wanted to ask just what all he’d been told, to hear every detail and know every fear and insecurity of his so she could banish them all at once; after a couple seconds, her hand moved to brush his bangs aside. “…You have a gift,” she told him kindly. “If you choose to make it a weapon, then yes - it would be. Not you. But that’s your call to make.”
“But… if Dad…”
“He…” Jill hesitated. “He and I… have our differences,” she went on more solemnly, with a look that said as you know. That was one thing she’d never been able to hide from her kids. “But there’s one thing we’ve always agreed on: there are no secrets between us about you all. The tests he runs, everything - he explains it to me beforehand. He’s never said anything about using your power as a weapon.”
Not that she trusted Wesker to be completely open with her. He did what he could to keep her more or less satisfied because that kept her quiet, and quiet meant compliant, and compliant meant less trouble on his end. Jill had pressed him more than once on Luke’s hyperresonance, wanting to know anything and everything just as she would with all the children; she’d been assured that Wesker had collected all the data he’d needed, that actually teaching Luke to harness his ability would be more trouble than it was worth - and, in a moment of less patience on her husband’s part, that she should simply appreciate the company of a subject who no longer held any of his interest.
A subtle insinuation, but Jill had caught it all the same and had no choice but to trust his word on the issue.
“But - this… power of mine,” Luke mused seriously. “What does it do?”
“I know it’s called a ‘hyperresonance,’ and that it’s hard to learn,” she recalled. “Basically, it’s… a huge source of energy, you could say, and you could potentially control - Luke?” She frowned again as she caught the instant drop of his eyes halfway through that. “What’s wrong?”
“So you don’t… you haven’t seen it?” he asked more quietly.
“…No,” she admitted hesitantly. “But - what’s wrong with that?”
“You didn’t know about Ion and Sync before they were created, right? Or Sync, until…”
The reminder touched a sensitive place in her heart, but Jill kept her expression straight, as usual. “No,” she repeated, softer.
“…Was it the same with me?”
There was no helping the slight thinning of her eyes at the question, or hiding it when he suddenly looked over. She exhaled silently. She recalled the day of Luke’s “birth” as clearly as if it were yesterday - in part because sometimes it honestly felt like yesterday. She’d been doing laundry at the time when Wesker called her down into the lab, and as startled as Jill had been to discover an unfamiliar child in their basement, she’d been caught even more off guard by the casual order to simply “take him.”
“Yes,” she confessed at length. “I didn’t know about fomicry until then.” Luke seemed to wince at that answer, quickly looking aside again, and she caught the implication. “Hey,” she said more solidly. “He did not create you in secret for that - if that were the case-” Jill stopped and closed her eyes briefly, taking a moment to swallow the pain and blame. Luke was old enough to hear it. “…You’ve seen Laura and Sync,” she murmured. “They’re your father’s idea of what makes a person strong. It’s not,” she emphasized, voice stern, “but it’s how he does things. It’s how he sees people.” His experimentation on Jill herself was another case in point, but she counted herself lucky that Luke didn’t know about that. P30 was a special matter, something she hadn’t been too proud to all but plead with Wesker to keep a secret from as many of the children as possible. “If he wanted you to be a weapon,” she went on more somberly, “you’d know it.”
“That might be the case with them,” said Luke quickly, perhaps already having run over the same thought prior, “but… still - if he could just use me whenever he wanted - if he made me into some kind of… backup plan, or something, that he could control…”
“Luke…” Sync. Trigger phrase be damned: she was certain that Luke’s hyperresonance was, at best, a last-ditch effort, a failsafe of sorts, something thrown in to make him remotely useful to his creator beyond being a scientific breakthrough. Wesker was a criminal, a terrorist, but he was subtle. He was smart. He wasn’t about to go blowing up any cities when working underground was his strength and in his - and his family’s - best interest. It was also yet another way to keep Jill in line, knowing that her coddled favorite could be reduced to a ticking time bomb on the right whim. An unlikely whim, but possible nonetheless.
“That’s not going to happen, baby.”
“But how do you know - how are you so sure?” Luke’s voice had picked up, emotional again - pained, even, like the undeniably frightened look in his eyes. “If it’s all I’m good for and I can’t even control it myself - why wouldn’t he just-”
“Because. You’re. His.” Jill slipped off the bench to crouch in front of him, taking his face in gentle but firm hands and holding it, not letting him turn away. Her expression was final, her eyes clear, and her words solid. “That’s not all you’re good for, and whatever you might have been created for, whatever you can or can’t do, you’re his son-”
“-Who he could create again if anything happened to me-”
“Luke-”
“I know you don’t see me that way - I know what you and Ion say - but Dad’s not the same! I know how he sees people-” His breath came out as a low, restrained hiss, his eyes shutting tight as if to block out the truth he didn’t want to hear himself admitting. “If you don’t matter to him, you’re expendable. I know the kinds of things he’s done, Mom, and I can’t - I can’t even remember him ever talking to me like I wasn’t just - some stranger or something! If that’s really all I am-”
“Luke.” He stopped, his eyes opening again, but they remained fixed firmly on his knees. Jill waited a few beats, letting him collect himself before speaking. “He created each and every one of you himself,” she emphasized slowly. “And whatever he’s put some of the others through, he’s never let a thing happen to any of you outside of this house and he has never thrown anyone in this family away for any reason.” She wavered inwardly, but this next part was true despite the lack of affectionate motivation: “…And without him - I couldn’t protect you all. He helps keep you safe. Ion’s medicine? He makes it because he chooses to. As far as I know, he’s the only one who can make it.”
She shook her head. “…Luke. You know he’s killed before. I know you do - and you’re old enough to hear it straight.” His eyes widened a little before narrowing again in a cringe. “He’s killed to keep us safe. You’re all his children, and he’s not going to let anyone or anything take you from us. He made that promise to me himself before any of you came along.” She swept her thumb over his cheek. “…Part of what keeps us together is the knowledge that we couldn’t raise all of you right without each other. We each go about it differently - we contribute in different ways - but it’s a joint effort. That’s parenthood, Luke, and it’s a two-person job. One that we agreed to a long time ago.” That brush turned into more of a caress, her voice lowering further. “…Trust me when I say that I know your father,” she said tenderly. “And I promise you - he’s not going to do what you’re thinking. No one is.”
The way Luke held her unwavering gaze - Jill recognized what it was. A desperate desire to believe in her, trust her, put all his faith in her when he didn’t know what to believe himself. He exhaled sharply, closed his eyes, and then he was instantly on his knees with her, hugging her tight. Jill sighed as she held him, stroking his hair and murmuring. “It’s okay, Luke… You’re okay… I’ve got you, baby.”
They stayed like that for a long couple minutes, somewhere during which she began to rock gently out of habit, just as she’d done when he was little; just like those first few weeks after his creation when he’d crawled into her bed each night and cuddled up beside her, burying himself beneath her comforter and bursting into a fit of giggles when she feigned surprise at discovering him. He’d been a quick learner, swiftly going from the helpless status of a newborn to the mindset of his projected age of ten within a year; even so, he’d slept with her every night for the first two months straight, and then on and off again when a particularly stormy night or startling nightmare woke him up. Luke had matured beyond that stage years ago, of course, as well as being held, but now he seemed as small and dependent as he’d been back then - scared and looking for reassurance from whatever monster was lurking in his closet this time.
Jill smiled softly at the thought. He’d have scoffed, spluttered, and denied it if she’d said the comparison out loud.
When his grip finally loosened somewhat, she spoke up again, still in the same calm, soothing tone. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I just… didn’t think it was necessary. And I didn’t want you to get crazy ideas in your head.”
Luke took a moment to reply; if she expected to hear emotion in his voice, it was stifled. “No… it’s okay, Mom. Thanks… for telling me.”
She rubbed his back comfortingly with a small smile. “Anytime.” Caressing his hair again, she turned towards him, but not enough to make him pull away. “You know I love you, right?”
He nodded against her shoulder, his tone beginning to gain the typical teenage boy awkwardness in response to something so sentimental. “Yeah.” Finally, he drew back, his face a little flushed but his eyes dry. He met his mother’s gaze confidently, though, his smile looking tired and sheepish. “So then - my headaches - they’re…”
“A side effect. You have a lot of power, Luke, and a strong body to handle it. It’s just a way of showing the stress.” Jill smoothed his bangs aside. “…All of that wasn’t easy to ask about, I know,” she acknowledged. “I’m proud of you for coming to me instead of letting it eat you up.” He nodded again and ran a hand through his hair, collecting himself in whatever way he hadn’t already, and her smile grew as she took his hand and invited him back onto the swing with her. Another short silence followed, but it was a more peaceful one, almost thoughtful, and she didn’t press him for his voice. She could feel another question coming, and as usual, she just waited, taking the opportunity to address the couple nicks on his face that had begun bleeding fresh.
“So…” Luke began, rubbing the side of his neck uncertainly. “How… how did you and Dad meet, anyway?”
Jill blinked, surprised, and paused in the middle of applying a small Band-Aid to his jaw. That was actually the first time any of the kids had asked - most just didn’t care, and the couple who might hadn’t ever voiced the question out loud. “Our jobs,” she replied, easily and honestly - the same response she gave to the few non-family people who asked her in polite conversation. She honestly didn’t socialize often these days outside of family and work, the only notable (and yet entirely unimpressionable at the same time) exceptions being the occasional communal events that she and Wesker went to out of necessity: something that the two of them actually agreed on in opinion, because both of them hated the things. His work required a hell of a lot of funding, grants, and back doors, and even he couldn’t bullshit his way into everyone’s wallet with words alone. No, maybe once every year or two, some promising new name would pop up and he’d give Jill a week’s notice - not a word more - and they’d attend looking like any normal couple. There, he would make whatever false promises or corrupt deals under the table that he needed to and Jill would behave like any good object, staying out of the way and talking with the equally unimportant wives of men of Wesker’s stature. She sometimes wondered if her presence really made a difference, but a surprising number of corporate heads in the biotechnology business were family men, it turned out. Who knew.
Then again, talented liar though he was, Wesker’s social skills left much - if not everything, she thought - to be desired, and more than once she’d saved his ass in a conversation. Science and threats, he could do in his sleep. Casual small talk? No. His distaste for it became all too obvious too quickly, and Jill’s helpful interjections were something he tolerated for the sake of the bigger picture.
But necessary or not, from time to time Jill didn’t mind to a degree; she made the most out of the occasions, at least. It was a chance to get out of the house, to look nice and have a breather away from what was her prison as much as her home, even if it was at the expense of going as Wesker’s property, more or less, faking smiles and even light affection when cued.
“We worked together for a few years,” she went on finally. “He was actually my superior for a long time.”
Luke was visibly surprised himself. “And then he just proposed to you?”
Proposed. Could it really be called that? Betraying her, trying to kill her, kidnapping and using her and then offering her a position that her superiors would never be able to resist? Proposal implied something personal and meaningful. Marriage. This was an arrangement of convenient circumstances, business and more than a little blackmail all under a false situation that the outside world bought easily.
“Mm-hm. After a while.” Jill’s tone was convincing, but the way Luke glanced away again raised her concern. “Luke?”
“…If you weren’t… happy, you wouldn’t stay, right?” He looked at her again and Jill met it with a trained eye, not betraying even a hint of her dislike at where this was headed.
“What’s this all about?” she asked, her puzzlement partly true. Had Sync also…?
“Nothing,” he said quickly, coloring. “It’s just that - sometimes…” His voice lowered. “…You and Dad don’t really… get along, so…”
“…No, you’re right,” she agreed a little heavily. Don’t really get along was putting it mildly. “We don’t always see eye-to-eye.” She cast a subtle glance over her shoulder at the security camera. “But that happens with every couple - it happens a lot more when you’re married, and you know how his job is. It just takes its toll on us sometimes.”
“Then… you both still…?” The additional flare of color in Luke’s face said what he didn’t finish and Jill smiled warmly - even as she inwardly rejected any and all notion of the thought. Neither she nor Wesker was stupid: neither had ever felt a shred of affection for the other and each knew it. Jill herself was useful; nothing more. Her perception of Wesker was a bit more complicated - she hated what he did, what he was, what he put their children through, the company he kept. She hated him, and the day someone found a way to kill him would be a day of no tears from her, even if it would bring more complications than she liked to think about.
Even so. Reluctantly, grudgingly, Jill had to be grateful to him. She was grateful for their children, never possible without him; she had to appreciate that, for all the hell some of them had been through, Wesker did keep them under her wing. She had to harbor a borderline respect for him for protecting them, something she was painfully aware she couldn’t do without him, as she’d honestly told Luke. Wesker’s first loyalty was undoubtedly to himself, but his family was second - above, at least, his business ties and outside matters, even if it was because the kids were quite literally his creations and because control and dominance - power - dictated most if not everything he did. In his eyes, his possessions were entirely his own, his work included, and his children were his work - as was Jill, among a few other choice words - and any threat of removing his power over them was countered firmly, even violently. Jill wasn’t afraid of him, but the man admittedly had a terrifying superiority complex.
His cooperation against Kazuya had said that much. The look Wesker had given her as he’d taken her wrist in what others might well have mistaken for a tender gesture, that falsely fond smile (or maybe it had been honest, but not at her - it was at the thing he made her into, his pet project and her biggest fear) as he leaned just close enough to give her the quiet order (“Protect our own, Jill.”) before she’d felt the burning rush of the virus in her veins, not even realizing prior that he’d slipped a hidden needle painlessly into her forearm - that had said he recognized her dependence on him. That had emphasized it. As much as she’d hated him for it at the time, by the end of the fight she’d only been grudgingly thankful and relieved.
But respect and gratitude weren’t love. Jill had never deluded herself with thinking that Wesker could love, and she’d never been in danger of some ignorant, one-sided feelings. Except for anger, nothing that passed between them was emotional.
Once - only once - several years ago, before she met Chris, back when she was younger and stupid and still feeling the sting of a loveless marriage and a harsh fate, there had been one rare moment in which Wesker’s touch didn’t entirely disgust her. He’d already subjected her to so much by that point that she was a far cry from shy towards anything he could do - but that one time, just that one time, between her concealed hurt and emotional neglect and one of those Goddamn brushes of his hand, his proximity stressing that he was still a warm, flesh-and-blood human under everything - he’d actually, briefly been something she wanted. Or that she at least wouldn’t have minded having. And she hadn’t been able to hide it.
But that still wasn’t love, and so Jill now had no choice but to twist a lie into a partial truth as she finally answered Luke. “We respect each other,” she said with a small smile. “If we didn’t, this place would fall apart fast. You all have helped to keep us together - but our feelings haven’t changed since the day we were married.”
She hated being dishonest with them, but this was one truth she couldn’t bear to show them. Most had figured it out already, but even then she was stubbornly determined to keep this family within the relative boundaries of what that word meant. As much as was possible, anyway, given how dysfunctional, patch-worked, and oftentimes wrecked it was. This was one freedom Wesker had left to her and she’d never let go of it since.
Luke smiled back at her; it was just as small, but it was relieved on some level, or at least reassured. While it pained Jill further for lying, she was relieved herself to see him recover.
The sun was gone by now, vanished behind the distant hills but leaving enough light to illuminate the property in a purple-pink touch. “Let’s get you some ice for that.” She indicated his eye, now gone from the previous shade to a blatant blue-black. “And you can tell me what you feel like having for dinner - sound good?”
A minute later they were making their way back towards the house side-by-side. As grateful as Jill was for the shift in mood, there was one thing she had to say before they left the subject entirely. “Don’t be too quick to take what Sync says to heart,” she said softly, and saw Luke’s shoulders tense. “You know how he is,” she went on, frowning a little to herself. “He’ll make the worst of any situation if he can.”
“Do you think-” Luke began, but then stopped just as quickly and mirrored his mother’s expression, albeit more openly. “…He’s always been… this way. Do you think he’ll ever…?”
Jill put an arm around his shoulders, turning over his unfinished question and recalling the many similar thoughts she’d had before now. “Everyone works differently,” she replied finally. Of course, not everyone was as broken as Sync. “Some take longer than others. Either way-” She gave him a somber but genuine smile. “-I’ll never stop trying.”
Holding her look, Luke slowly nodded and turned ahead again. As he stepped in front to open the backdoor, he inquired, “Would it be okay if I went out this weekend? Just with Tear - she’s heading back to her brother’s next week, so…”
Resisting the urge to smirk slightly, Jill tilted her head in thought. “I don’t see why not. Where you taking her?”
“I figured just to - nowhere!” he half-sputtered, instantly blushing. “I mean - we’re just meeting, I’m not - really-” Jill laughed, saving him the remains of his flustered reasoning.
“I know. I didn’t mean it like that.” Some of that smirk did slip through, though, and Luke caught it as he closed the door behind him once they were back in the kitchen.
“Mom.”
She just waved over her shoulder as she made her way to the freezer. “I didn’t say a thing,” she pointed out, but then slowed as it occurred to her: Wesker was due home tonight, unless his plans had changed (which they oftentimes did, usually without notice). In that case… “I might be out tomorrow,” she told him, her hint of teasing gone. “Make sure you remember to take a cell with you, and call when you’re heading home. If I don’t answer, try Laura’s number.”
Luke nodded. “I know, I know.”
“Give Tear my regards either way.”
“I will - uh, pizza sounds good,” he offered in a brighter tone, a little too quickly to be casual. Jill smiled as she approached, offering him the bag of ice and pretending not to notice that obvious blush.
“Whatever you say, honey.”