Ryan's apartment was right next to Jill's, separated by nothing more than a narrow hallway. Days of mounting pressure and unease had worn through the last barrier between them, and what had been unspoken finally wasn't. It happened on a silent, sleepless night.
A faint noise outside her door jolted Jill awake, cold sweat soaking through her shirt. Ever since the mansion, ever since her report vanished into nothing, Umbrella's people had been circling the apartment complex. She lived under constant surveillance, and sleep came in fitful scraps. Next door, Ryan sensed it almost immediately. A soft knock on the shared wall, low and steady.
Minutes later, Jill opened her door. Her eyes were threaded with red, exhaustion carved into every line of her face. Ryan stood in the hallway. He looked at her, and that was enough. Weeks of fighting side by side had made words unnecessary. They could read each other's fragility without a sound. Jill stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. His arms came up around her, firm and sure, the warmth of his palms seeping through the fabric until the trembling stopped.
They held each other and that was enough.
After that night...
Morning light filtered into the living room. Ryan woke first. Jill was still asleep beside him, the crease between her brows finally smooth, her guard completely down. He eased out of bed, glanced at the sheets draped over the couch, spotted with faint traces of red, and padded into the kitchen to make breakfast.
Living on his own through college had drilled simple routines into him. Toast in the pan, milk on the stove, everything quiet and unhurried. He set the table and waited.
Before long, Jill wandered out of the bedroom rubbing her eyes. She spotted the breakfast spread and her expression softened. They sat down together and ate like any ordinary couple. Outside the window, traffic hummed along, the corner store opened its shutters, commuters hurried past, and the morning news droned on. The whole city looked perfectly normal.
Only Ryan knew better. The mansion was the beginning, not the end. The virus spreading, the city falling... it was a matter of when, not if. The police department had been compromised by Umbrella long ago. Jill's report had been buried. Former colleagues wanted nothing to do with them. Chris was somewhere in Europe chasing leads, radio silent. In this entire city, they had no one but each other.
Jill set down her glass of milk and spoke first. "I'm going to reach out to some old contacts for equipment. Handguns and a shotgun at minimum, enough to keep us covered if things go sideways."
"You sure you don't need a break first?"
"I'm fine, it's not that serious." She said it lightly, teasing, then caught the serious look on his face. "Okay, okay. I'm kidding. I'm good, I promise."
Ryan met her eyes, his tone measured. "Standard caliber won't cut it. Against those things, it's useless. We need large-bore, high-stopping-power weapons. Something effective at close and medium range, light enough to grab and run with. And stock up on ammunition."
He paused, then added something that carried more weight than his even tone let on. "Also, get us some portable breaching charges. Doesn't have to be a lot, but they need to work. Locked doors, blocked corridors... I don't want to waste time hunting for keys when we could blow through." The memory of every maddening puzzle lock and missing key from the mansion still made his head throb.
Jill blinked, then nodded. She'd been so focused on chasing the truth that she'd never considered the obstacles they'd face during an actual evacuation. His thinking was sharper than hers on this. Firepower and breaching capability, both calibrated for exactly the kind of trouble that lay ahead.
"You're right. I didn't think that far." She took his suggestions without hesitation. "I'll contact my source today. Heaviest firepower I can find that's still portable, plus breaching charges and a remote detonator. No paper trail."
Ryan nodded. He'd said what needed saying.
After breakfast, Jill changed into street clothes and reached out through back channels, locking down a supplier based on Ryan's specifications. Once she left, he stayed behind in the apartment, quietly reorganizing storage space, carving out room for weapons, ammunition, and explosives. He kept up the appearance of an unremarkable tenant. Calm, low-profile, staying away from the windows.
The day passed without incident. He sorted gear bags into labeled groups, maintaining the look of a lived-in apartment with nothing to hide. Through a gap in the curtains, he checked the street below. The black sedan was still parked on the corner. Time was running short, and he knew it.
Jill returned at dusk. She made several trips from the garage, each time carrying a black tactical bag, her movements casual enough that no neighbor looked twice. Door locked, deadbolt thrown, she unzipped the bags one by one. An arsenal spread across the floor.
She crouched beside the gear and walked him through it, voice low. "Desert Eagle. Large-caliber Magnum rounds. One shot does serious damage. Best thing we've got for close quarters."
Her hand moved to the next weapon. "CQ assault rifle. Solid at medium range, portable, good sustained fire."
She picked up the pump-action shotgun, her tone sure and steady. "M37. Our go-to model. Quick to reload, plenty of punch. Perfect for when they're right on top of you."
Then the rotary shotgun. "Striker. High sustained volume of fire. When we need to punch through a crowd and keep moving, this is what clears the path."
With the firearms accounted for, she cracked open the last case, a waterproof sealed container. Inside, neatly arranged: compact blocks of C4, paired with remote detonators and timed triggers. Small enough to conceal and carry.
"Portable C4. Remote and timed detonation, both options, exactly like you asked. Quick assembly and they're live."
Beyond that, the haul included matching ammunition for every weapon, flashbangs, military-grade ballistic vests, a full set of first aid kits, and tactical packs to carry it all. Every piece was high-caliber and high-impact, paired with breaching charges for clearing obstacles. Maximum lethality, maximum portability. Grab the packs and go. Built for a fighting retreat.
Ryan stepped in to help. Working together, they stowed the weapons deep in the bedroom closet, layered under clothing. Ammunition went into separate cases, secured to prevent shifting. The C4 and detonators were sealed in a waterproof box on the top shelf. Ballistic vests and first aid kits stayed within arm's reach. From the outside, the apartment looked exactly as it had before.
Night fell. They sat on the couch, and Jill leaned her head against his shoulder. Days of coiled tension finally began to unwind.
"Still nothing from Chris. The department's gone completely silent. If something breaks, we leave immediately."
Ryan pulled her closer, his voice low and firm. "I'm with you. Wherever we go, we go together."
"I'm glad you're here," she murmured.
The night deepened. The city held on to its hollow calm.
Inside the apartment, life looked no different than any other evening. But tucked out of sight, the heavy-bore weapons and breaching charges were staged and ready.
They'd found each other, and on Ryan's advice, they were as ready as they could be.