Thank you to everyone who supported the @valeveirazine! We raised so much for charity!

Digital copies are out now and I can’t wait to get my physical copy!

Here’s my full piece. The concept was: “Predator handshake meme, but make it sexy.” One of the many times Jill helped Carlos up. (And a moment of Carlos heart-eyes and Jill realizing oh no she likes this Umbrella boy maybe.)

Sneak peek of my piece for the Valeveira charity fanzine “Someplace Safe”

~PRE-ORDERS OPEN NOW~

If you want utter shittons of Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira, don’t miss it!

Ashes [3] by lickitysplit

Fandom: Resident Evil
Characters: Jill Valentine/Carlos Oliveira
Rating: M (Mature)

Summary: A year after the destruction of Raccoon City, Jill is ready to put the past in the past and get back to her life. When she and Chris are recruited to go after Wesker, it seems like the perfect opportunity… until she’s partnered with the last person she ever wanted to see again.

Chapter Three: Jill and Carlos disagree on what their relationship is, until they find themselves in a familiar situation

Read below or on AO3 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

They don’t speak again until El Paso, except for what is absolutely necessary. She hides her curiosity when he hands over a driver’s license at the security checkpoint, but doesn’t ask any questions. The flight is uneventful except for the obnoxious way the flight attendant had tried to flirt with Carlos. To his credit, he had been simply polite in response, but Jill isn’t in the mood to give him that much credit.

On the way out from picking up their guns checked with the luggage, Carlos turns to the lockers instead of to the car rental. Jill follows, frowning as she watches him scan the locker numbers. “Ah, sixteen, my lucky number,” he says, reaching up to spin the combination lock.

The little door swings open and Carlos pulls out an envelope. He reads the front before ripping open one end and shaking a car key out onto his palm. “What’s that?” Jill asks.

“Our ride,” he replies.

The locker door swings shut with a bang, and he turns and starts walking to the parking lot with her on her heels. “How did you know that would be there?” she demands.

Carlos glances out the corner of his eye. “I was given instructions before we left. Feds didn’t want us renting our own car.”

Jill frowns as she continues to follow. “How come I didn’t know about that?”

“You’ll have to ask them.”

Her eyes narrow as they approach a black Jeep Wrangler parked in the third row. Carlos opens the driver’s side and tosses their bags inside, but Jill scowls as she watches. Does he think he can just keep her in the dark like this? Does the FBI? Not being clued into everything can make things dangerous. Jill is not about to be a damn liability, not on a case like this, and not the first case she’s been able to do since the outbreak.

“What do you think?” Carlos asks. He leans his arms on the top of the Jeep and peers inside. “Think we should take the top off? It looks easy enough.”

He slips into the driver’s seat and feels around until he pulls the lever to release the soft top. “I’m not a damn accessory,” she says, folding her arms.

“Huh?”

“You can’t keep stuff from me. You should have told me about the keys.”

She raises her chin and cocks her hip as he straightens and leans against the car. “Uh… okay. Sorry.”

They stare at each other for a long moment before she asks, “What else don’t I know?”

Carlos shakes his head. “Nothing. We both got briefed on this.”

“Except you also got keys,” Jill scoffs.

“You know, I asked you last night if you wanted to chat,” he protests. “You said we would on the plane, only you made it clear you weren’t interested in talking.”

He shuts the door of the Jeep hard and walks around to the back, unzipping the windows. Jill watches as a flush heats her face. He’s right, of course, but that doesn’t do anything to cool her temper. So instead she watches as he pulls at the canvas, his brows drawn together. “You’re doing that wrong,” she sighs.

“Huh?”

“Just move.” Jill finishes removing the back window before releasing the sail flaps, and Carlos watches as she pulls the last two releases and finishes rolling everything up. She stashes it in the back of the Jeep before finally shooting him a look. “Didn’t they teach you that in mercenary school?”

Carlos chuckles. “Must have been absent that day.”

She huffs in annoyance before climbing into the passenger seat. He joins a minute later, turning on the ignition. “Want to grab the map out of the glove compartment?” he asks. “Need to find the highway.”

Jill pops it open and finds the map as he weaves through the parking lot. “Look for Montana Ave on your left,” she says after a minute. “It’s a straight shot to the border crossing.”

“We’re using the one in Santa Teresa,” he says. Jill looks at him in shock as he holds up one palm. “Hey! Don’t get angry at me just because they didn’t fill you in!”

“This is ridiculous,” she hisses. Jill takes a moment to study the map before snapping, “Look for 273 North. And you better tell me what else I don’t know.”

“How am I supposed to know what you don’t know?” he laughs as he weaves into traffic. “I wanted to compare notes.”

“You didn’t want to compare notes,” she argues. “You wanted to catch up. I told you, I’m not interested in making friends.”

Carlos doesn’t answer. They fall into silence again on the drive, getting to the crossing in under an hour. Jill can see why they would be instructed to go there; only a dozen or so cars wait for entry, unlike the more bustling crossing in El Paso. She fishes her passport out of her bag as he drums his fingers on the steering wheel of the Jeep, the car inching forward slowly.

Jill’s brows go up when it’s their turn and Carlos produces his own passport. She cranes her neck a bit to see that it is in fact US issued, trying not to look curious as the agent takes her own. Carlos answers the standard questions about where they are heading and how long they’ll be there, and after a quick lookover they are waved through to enter Mexico.

He doesn’t ask for directions this time, heading onto another highway minutes later. The sun is hot for the late afternoon, and Jill shifts uncomfortably as she unbuttons the top two buttons of her blouse, wishing she had worn something comfortable like he had. She crosses her legs and folds her arms, looking at the landscape that grows flatter and drier the more they drive.

And the longer they drive, the more annoyed she becomes. Is he even going to talk to her? Tell her where they are going? The agenda didn’t mention Santa Teresa so she has no faith that her itinerary is at all accurate. Carlos doesn’t acknowledge her at all, and unlike his demeanor on the way to the airport, he doesn’t fidget with the radio or attempt any small talk either.

Finally Jill has enough. “Where are we going?” she asks.

Carlos doesn’t look over. “Las Caleras.”

That does sound familiar, so she sighs. “How much further? I could use a drink.”

At that he gives her a bit of side eye. “Couple hours, maybe less if we don’t get jammed up. What kind of drink?”

“Water,” she deadpans. “It’s hot out here.”

He chuckles. “Las Caleras probably gonna be even hotter.”

Carlos is smiling when she looks at him. “Where did you get a passport?” she asks.

“Same place you did,” he replies.

“Don’t bullshit me. You said you’re from South America.”

“And?”

“I thought you weren’t American.”

“I’m not.”

Jill raises a brow. “So then how did you get the passport? And the driver’s license?”

Carlos chuckles. “Funny what the government is willing to do in exchange for help. Even push some paperwork through in a flash.” Then he glances over, pointing his chin. “What’s the matter? You don’t like refugees?”

“I don’t like Umbrella.”

His lips twist in a bit of a grimace. “I told you a hundred times, I didn’t know. I had to get clearance to work. They ran backgrounds, financials, checked everything, I even had a visa. Everything was legit. How was I supposed to know what they were really doing?”

Jill leans towards him, her arm propped against the back of her seat. “You never once wondered why a pharmaceutical company needed hired soldiers?”

“Look, where I’m from, you’re paid to shoot a gun and not ask questions.”

She gives a loud huff and eases back into her seat. The ride continues in silence for another minute before Carlos asks, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

Jill scowls as she watches him shrug. “I read your file. You could have done anything. Why’d you choose that hick town?”

Her eyes go wide as she bolts upright against the seatbelt. “How the hell did you get my file?” she demands.

“I asked for it. I wanted to know more about you. I wanted…” He clears his throat, and Jill glares at him as he swallows. “I wanted to contact you, you know,” Carlos admits. “Try to call you or see you or something. Never got anywhere.”

Her mouth opens in surprise before she realizes and quickly shuts it again. Is that why he thinks she is annoyed? Because he didn’t visit her? Jill decides to ignore the unasked question that is clear behind his words: whether she ever got his messages at all. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she says with a derisive laugh. “Last thing I needed was you coming by for a visit.”

With a curse Carlos swings the Jeep onto the shoulder. Jill gives a shout as she is jerked against the door, and a bit of dust kicks up that quickly settles when he sharply pulls the parking brake into position. The highway is empty except for them, and she looks around for a moment before exclaiming, “What the hell was that for?”

Carlos’ fingers flex on the steering wheel. “I don’t get you, supercop. I thought we had an understanding. That we were partners in this.”

She presses her lips together tightly. “I told you in Raccoon City I didn’t need a partner,” Jill mutters.

“So we’re not friends, we’re not partners… then what are you doing here?” He looks over at her, and Jill shrinks back a bit before she remembers herself. She lifts her chin and gives him a cold look as Carlos studies her, leaning to the side a bit to draw closer. His expression isn’t angry, though, or even hurt; there is definitely aggravation, but mostly Carlos looks curious as he searches her face. “What happened to you? I know you cared back then. You wouldn’t have saved me otherwise. You would have taken that shot.”

Jill swallows uncomfortably. He leans in even closer, so close that she can get a small tease of his aftershave, can see a few beads of sweat under his bangs, but she refuses to move away. The heat feels oppressive as he inches closer, but Jill won’t let herself be intimidated, if he’s even trying. “You’re Umbrella,” she replies.

“Was Umbrella,” he says. “And that didn’t bother you then.”

“Things change.”

After a long moment he nods. “Good to know.”

A small bead of guilt forms in her stomach as he turns away, putting the Jeep into gear. They pull back onto the highway and Jill sinks into the seat, turning her face away so he can’t see the way it burns. Is it fair to push this Umbrella thing? Maybe, maybe not… he did save her, after all. But after everything she’s learned about Umbrella and Wesker and the lies that brought about the end of Raccoon City, how can she believe anything he says?

Still, she feels unsettled, and as the sun begins to set her anger turns sour in her stomach. Jill realizes she hasn’t eaten except for a snack on the plane, and between the travel and the argument and her semi-hungover state from that morning, her stomach is protesting. “How much further?” she asks.

Jill half expects him not to even reply, but he says, “Should be there soon.”

“Good. I’m starving. I hope the hotel has a place.”

Carlos murmurs something in response. Jill leans her head back and closes her eyes, thinking of how nice it will be to put on something comfortable and eat her weight in fajitas. Maybe a cheap bottle of tequila will help salvage the day.

“Can I ask you something?”

Jill peeks at him through an eyelid. “Okay.”

“That guy. Redfield.”

She shifts a bit, lifting her head. “What about him?”

“He’s one of your S.T.A.R.S. friends, right?”

Jill clears her throat. “Yeah.”

“You guys uh…”

He lifts his eyebrows and glances over, and when Jill gets his meaning she rolls her eyes. “No.”

“No?”

“Just friends. Partners.”

“Ah.” Carlos nods as she regards him suspiciously. “So you don’t think he has anything to do with this Wesker guy?”

“Are you kidding?” she yelps. “If anyone hates Wesker more than me, it’s Chris.”

He puts on the turn signal, and Jill spots a sign for the exit to Las Caleras. “So you trust him?” Carlos presses.

Jill makes a face. “Yes, I trust him.”

“But he wasn’t in Raccoon City that day, was he?”

She nearly chokes as she furiously shouts, “Are you freaking kidding me? You are out of your mind. You think Chris had something to do with it?” His one shoulder shrug just infuriates her more. “He wasn’t there because he was in Europe. Investigating Umbrella.”

“Just convenient is all.”

“Don’t say another word,” she warns.

Carlos laughs. “Weird how you trust him and not me.”

“I’ve known him for years,” Jill argues. “He was at the mansion too. He saw what they did. Barely escaped, same as me.” She throws up her hands. “Why am I even arguing with you? You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know?” he presses, surprising her when his voice holds a tinge of anger. “Hell of a thing to say to me. I lived that hell just like you.”

“That hell wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for your people.”

“For the last time, they aren’t my people!” The sky is starting to turn purple, but Jill barely notices, focused instead on her anger. There are no other cars on the road as Carlos drives on, raising his voice as he shouts, “If they were my people, you think they would have left me to die?”

“Like you said, it’s convenient,” she retorts.

“Yeah. Real fucking convenient.” Carlos takes a turn and the town comes into view up ahead. “You still haven’t answered me, you know. If I’m the enemy and you don’t trust me, why the hell did you bother saving my life?”

Jill scowls, her gaze darting away.  They enter the town, the edge marked with a line of cream-colored buildings. “Just because I don’t trust you doesn’t mean I’d just let you die.”

Carlos barks out a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t go getting soft on me now, supercop.”

“I’m not soft! You’re delusional.”

“And you’re…”

His voice fades as Carlos hits the brakes. The Jeep rolls to a stop in the town center, the dirt road widening into a market square flanked on all four sides with colorful two and three story buildings. The center is paved with bricks that fan out from a circular fountain that sputters out a trickle of water from the top. The sun is nearly down, twilight covering the buildings that show no movement, strings of lights hanging between empty balconies, no sound except the hum of the Jeep’s engine.

But it isn’t the quaintness of the town, or the stillness, or even the lack of people and voices that catches her attention. Instead, her eyes move in horror over the red that stains the brick and the side of the fountain. By the lanterns she can make out a body laying on the ground. There is little left beyond a pair of unmoving legs, and on top of the torso that is only partially attached, a man covered in blood eats from the open chest of his victim.

“Carlos?” she whispers.

“Get the guns,” he hisses as the dead man lifts his head.