The mood in the meeting room was tense, and despite his tendency toward emotional constipation Chris was well aware that he was the main source of the tension.

He rolled his cigarette between his fingers and took a long puff, much to the annoyance of Doctor George Hamilton, who wrinkled his nose, and adjusted his tie. The ‘Must you?’ was implicit. The doctor didn’t bother to voice it, and Chris didn’t bother to acknowledge it.

Instead, he turned to Raymond Vester, the sharp faced redhead who looked much more like he was hoping Chris would offer him a cigarette. Chris did not. He and Raymond had once had the same boss– albeit under wildly different circumstances at wildly different points in time.

That boss was in fact what they were currently discussing.

“And you’re sure these brain scans exist,” Chris demanded flatly, jabbing the cigarette toward him for emphasis.

Vester stared at him like he was stupid, a sneer tugging at the edge of his lips. “Obviously they exist. I had to fucking sit for them myself. Company policy. Said they used to do it at Umbrella.”

“Company policy, right.”

Doctor Hamilton sighed and spoke up. “I think what Redfield is getting at, is he wants to be sure that the supposed brain scans you and the other Tricell employees underwent was actually what it seemed to be, and not some kind of cover for some other experiment.”

Chris sucked on his cigarette and nodded. “Yeah, that. Like, I don’t know, putting tracking chips in all your heads.”

Vester glared at him. “Believe whatever you want, man. But it was brain scans. Detailed ones. The whole thing took like an hour. If you don’t believe me, ask Wong. There were backups to the backups, and I know she’s got access. Pay her enough, you’ll get access too.”

“Always money with Ms. Ada,” Hamilton sighed. “Alright, thank you, Raymond. Your assistance with this is appreciated.”

“Sure,” he nodded, “Like Jess and I said, we’ll help however we can. Things have gotten… out of hand.”

Vester stood, pushing himself up against the table. “You need any more info about this, I’ll be in my quarters.” he moved toward the door, and looked back at Chris, who stared at him in return.

Vester walked out and the door shut behind him.

Chris turned back to the doctor. “What do you think?”

“He’s telling the truth, at least,” Hamilton said, drumming his fingers on the table. “I’m certain he believes what he’s saying.”

“Sure,” Chris nodded sharply, contemplating the lit end of his cigarette. “The question is does he know what the fuck he’s talking about, or was he fed a line.”

“An excellent question,” the doctor said, waving away the stream of cigarette smoke. “Vester mentioned Umbrella, and we both know that the mad men at the top were obsessive immortalists. We know also– courtesy of my dear partner Doctor Suzuki– that they were very much doing work on the brain.”

The doctor laced his fingers on the table. “Therefore it’s entirely reasonable to assume that they were genuinely taking brain scans of employees, for when they could be put to use at some theoretical later date.”

Chris felt his stomach churn at the doors acknowledging the possibility unlocked. He took another long puff on his cigarette.

“Okay, let’s say that they do exist. Can we even use them?”

“Almost certainly,” Hamilton affirmed. “Consider the success we’ve had with the mutamycete. Growing a cloned body is not difficult, merely expensive, however, prior to our research there was no method for integrating lived memories into a new body. Now, however…”

“Now the damned mold can download memories into brains,” Chris grumbled. “I know, I know, but–”

Hamilton held up his hand. “The trick to it will be translating the data from the brain scans into a format that can be integrated into mutamycyte, and from there, into the new brain.

“You really think it can be done?” Chis’ gaze weighed heavy on the doctor.

Hamilton flattened his hands on the table. “My dear boy, don’t tell me you’re doubting my ability now, after we’ve come so far.”

Doctor George Hamilton. The man who had stopped the T-virus.

“No,” Chris shook his head. “No. Alright. I’ll contact Wong.”

---

Chris slumped through the halls of the facility like a looming stormcloud, his brow furrowed and his dark coat flowing out behind him.

He had just gotten off the phone with Ada Wong, and he had not enjoyed the conversation.

He didn’t like how much she was asking.

He didn’t like who was paying the bills. (The same person who had purchased the new facility.)

And most definitely he didn’t like the idea of what might happen if she actually delivered the goods.

Were they really going to bring Albert Wesker back to life after they had worked so hard to put him in the fucking ground?

Chris’ chest tightened.

Wesker had died screaming Chris’ name. Reaching for him.

Chris had had to put him down like a mad dog.

He’d held Jill while she cried afterward.

While they both cried.

“Hey, watch it, Redfield!” The sharp voice cut through his dark memories, and Chris suddenly realized he’d almost walked face first into Karl Heisenberg going the other direction.

“Heisenberg,” Chris growled. He wasn’t in any mood for the mold man’s bullshit. “What are you doing out of the labs?”

He held up his hands deferentially and grinned the big, easy grin that pissed Chris off so much. “Easy there, boy, just stretching my legs. I’ve got permission from the docs.”

“Oh boy.” Chris had a hunch it was Rebecca he’d sweet talked into letting him out. He couldn’t be mad at Rebecca, but he worried her soft heart was going to fuck them all over. Not that Heisenberg seemed intent on wreaking destruction since he’d been brought back– quite the opposite. But still. Chris didn’t trust him.

“Seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind there, pal,” Heisenberg observed. Chris realized that neither of them have spoken or moved for a long moment.

“Just get out of my way, alright?” he growled, shouldering to the side to move past the big man.

“Anything you say, boss,” Heisenberg smirked, moving to let him pass.

Chris turned back to glare at him, and saw his own face, aging and twisted with anger reflected in the village Lord’s smoked lenses. “I’m not your boss.”

“Sure,” Heisenberg held up his hands again, still grinning. “Touchy though, aren’t ya? Too bad your miss Valentine is off of that mission, I know she’d love to be your shoulder to cry on.”

“Stay out of my business, Heisenberg!” Chris felt his fist clenching involuntarily and wondered if the man was trying to piss him off, or if he really was just on a hair trigger today.

It could have been either, but if he was honest with himself it was probably the second one.

“hey, hey, you got it. Just being friendly. Unlike some people. Yeesh.” Heisenberg tipped his hat to him and started to swagger down the corridor.

Chris closed his eyes and took a breath, hearing Heisenberg’s heavy bootsteps moving away down the corridor.

“Wait.”

The bootsteps stopped.

“Yeah?”

Chris grimaced, his eyes still tightly closed. Rebecca had been telling him he’d been pushing everyone away. Not that Heisenberg was a friend, but it sure as hell wasn’t a good idea to alienate him further in the circumstances. The project needed his cooperation, along with the other Lords.

“…. you’re fine, Heisenberg. You’re right. I’m in a bad mood. Just… go do whatever you were doing.”

There was a long pause. “Yeah, sure, Redfield. You know, I’ve got some beers in the fridge in my quarters if you feel like loosening up sometime.”

That threw Chris enough for him to open his eyes. “Are you serious?”

Heisenberg had turned back to look at him, and shrugged his shoulders. “Sure, why not? I’d say bygones are bygones at this point, right? Your boys did put me back together and all. And pal, you look like you’re the one who’s falling apart right now.”

Hearing that from Heisenberg, who constantly looked like a sleepless, ambulatory junkpile, stung. Maybe he was right.

Chris took another breath. “You know what? Sure. I’ll be around later.”

There was a pop and a hiss as Heisenberg opened the beer and handed it to him. Chris accepted it with a nod, the cool weight of it under his fingers, and took a sip. It was shit beer. That was okay, Chris drank shit beer pretty much exclusively.

He still didn’t know why the hell he was here.

After he’d met up with Heisenberg in the hall, he’d gone and checked on Rose at the end of her tutoring session. It was disorienting, to see her grown up in such a short amount of time, but the doctors had assured him over and over that it was what was best for her, given her mental development and that now that she’d reached a more manageable level of developmental maturity her aging would be slowed to a more normal, or even subdued rate.

After that he had taken a long, hot shower– his hair was still wet from it– and now–

“You seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind, Redfield.”

Chris winced inwardly as he realized he’d been staring off into the middle distance again.

“Yeah, I guess I fucking do,” he sighed, taking another long sip of beer.

Heisenberg patted the chair opposite him where he was already getting settled. “Well come on, take a load off.”

Chris let himself sit, admittedly a little awkwardly, in the familiar chair. All the chairs in the dorms of the facility were the same. All the furniture was the same. Most of the dorms even had the same cookie cutter layout, and Heisenberg’s was no exception. The kitchenette they were sitting in looked almost exactly like Chris’ except Heisenberg’s had more stuff in it. After a while, Chris had just stopped bothering to decorate any of the places he stayed. What was the point?

Chris was aware he had stopped talking again. “So….”

“So.” Heisenberg sat languidly with legs crossed, leaning against one of the arm rests. “What exactly is on that mind of yours, and would punching a boulder help?”

He rolled his eyes. “I wish everyone would stop bringing that stupid rumor up.”

“Seriously?” Heisenberg chuckled. “They’re all so flattering though. “I heard Chris Redfield punched a boulder and it broke’, ‘I heard Chris Redfield has an eight pack.’ You’ve got a hell of a reputation, man. Are you telling me it isn’t deserved?”

Chris shook his head, sipping the beer thoughtfully. “I’m just a guy who keeps not dying. Not much else to it.”

“I wouldn’t know about that, given how few people can say the same. Even yours truly.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Chris takes a deep breath as all the deaths flash before his eyes.Wesker calling out his name.

“Thanks again, by the way,” Heisenberg continued, pulling a half smoked cigar out of his pocket and lighting it up with a flick of a lighter. “Even if you are the one who ruined my brilliant plan. Worked out alright in the end I guess.”

Chris jolted out of his reverie again. “Your brilliant plan was nuts, Heisenberg. And it probably wouldn’t have worked, anyway. But you’re welcome. I’m surprised you’re thanking me though.”

“What ,you mean because your boys won’t let me and the others leave your cozy little digs without an escort?” he grinned brightly “I think you underestimate how much I hated that dingey little village. Your war lab is enough of an upgrade– for now.. Besides, it’s a fucking jungle out there, huh? You guys really let the world go to shit.”

“We didn’t let anything,” Chris snapped, holding himself back as he felt his body try to lurch forward without thinking.

Heisenberg put up his hands, beer sloshing as he kept hold of it. “Whoa, whoa, easy there. I didn’t mean…” he trailed off. “Redfield, I’d say you’re on edge but I think you’re way past that.”

Chris rubbed his neck. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“So what do you need me to tell ya? What is on that impenetrable mind of yours? Cause it sure as hell is something.”

Chris shook his head and pulled a battered pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket. Heisenberg offered him his lighter and Chris thought about waving it off, before he just accepted it and lit up.

He took a long drag, pulling the smoke deep into his lungs and holding it there for a moment before he finally let it out through his nose.

“Doctor Hamilton has a new project,” he said, finally. “We might be able to bring back some of the other scientists who started this shit, like Miranda was suggesting.”

“Tch.” A sneer caught at the edge of Heisenberg’s mouth and he puffed at his filthy cigar. “Leave it to her to push for bringing back the dead. Not that I can say shit about it at this point. But why’s it got you in such a twist, pal?”

Chris rankled at being called ‘pal’ but didn’t object.”What’s ‘got me in a twist’ is the whole thing. These ‘scientists’ are monsters who unleashed hell and died badly. Will they even help us? Isn’t it more likely they’ll just pull the same shit again and make things even worse?”

“Have we?” Heisenberg asked, blowing a smoke ring and watching it drift through the air. “Even the witch Miranda’s been on her best behavior as far as I know. Coming back from the dead– maybe it changes your perspective.”

“How much?” Chris snorted, staring at the wall. “You, the other Lords, Miranda– you did horrible fucking shit, let’s not mince words– but none of you were attempting to create a genocide.”

“Hell no we were not,” Heisenberg agrees, sitting up straighter and pushing up his hat. “genocide– who the hell is Doc Hamilton planning to bring back?”

Chris stared dead ahead at the wall again. “His name was Albert Wesker. He was my captain, once upon a time. And I’m the one who had to put him down like a rabid dog.”

Heisenberg whistled. “You know what, fair’s fair, Redfield. No wonder you look like you’ve been chewing glass.”

“Yeah.” He felt his jaw tighten, and dealt with it by finishing off the rest of the beer. He crushed the can, and set it down on the table.

Heisenberg scratched his stubbly chin. “I gotta admit that’s a little heavier than I was picturing. What’s got Doc Hamilton so sure this is a good idea?”

“I wish I fucking knew,” Chris sighed. “But Hamilton’s been with us since Racoon City. Helped found the BSAA before all that fell apart. Practically cured the original t-virus single handedly. I don’t know that a meathead like me can question his judgment. If he says he needs Wesker’s brain– I just wish there was a way to do it without the man attached.”

“Let’s not go down that road, pal,” Heisenberg said, grimacing.”I can only imagine the bad ideas that could follow if we started hooking up brains in jars.”

“Heh… no, you’re right,” he admitted uneasily, another drag off his cigarette. “I just…”

“You’ve just got history.” He mirrored Chris, puffing on his cigar. “I get it. Let me tell you I know a little thing about history. It hasn’t been all sunshine and roses with me and Miranda. But… it hasn’t been as bad as I thought, either. Only tried to kill her the once.”

Chris let out a hollow bark of a laugh. “Yeah, only the once. I heard Hunk’s men had a hell of a time separating you two.”

“I was owed a free shot,” he said with a grin that was more like a sneer.

“Sure. Sorry it would have been too expensive to have to bring her back again.”

“Fucking cheaps sons of bitches.” Karl grinned. “You want another beer?”

Chris was about to object and say he should leave but something crumpled inside him and he acquiesced. “Yeah, alright. But let’s talk about your bullshit for a while, instead of mine.”

The fridge opened by itself, and two beers floated over. Karl grabbed one, and Chris dubiously reached out and took the other.

“Suits me, pal. I could talk about myself for hours.”

“Of course you can, you obnoxious bastard.”

Maybe this wasn’t so bad. It was better than brooding in his room alone, anyway.

---

Chris didn’t expect to dream when he stumbled back to his own quarters and fell, still half dressed, onto the covers of his cold cramped bed.

He wished to hell that he didn’t.

But he did.

He dreamed about Arklay, and about Africa, the one melting into the other.

He dreamed about Wesker laughing, and grabbing him by the throat while he struggled.

He woke up gasping, and covered in sweat, and with a painful tightness between his thighs.

Chris choked back the bile in his throat, and pressed his hand to his throbbing head. Maybe beers with Heisenberg had been the worst decision of his life.

He stumbled into the shower, and turned it into cold– to get rid of the problem below, and to push away the memory of the magma’s heat as it washed over him.

Chris had skipped breakfast to lessen the chance of being sick.

He sat in the blank meeting room, waiting for the other man to arrive, and taking long drinks of black coffee out of a white styrofoam cup. Filling his mouth with bitterness and the sensation of heat was apt preparation for the meeting ahead, certainly.

The new project’s funder– they were still calling it the new project, nameless in the wake of the BSAA’s dissolution– Chris hadn’t spent a lot of time around him, but he didn’t have a good impression of him at all. Jill hated the guy– and for good reason.

He was brooding on the thought when the man himself walked in.

“Mr. Redfield,” he greeted smoothly, his voice tinged with a thick accent.

Chris looked up and leveled his gaze at the slim, smug looking older blond man in his trim suit and gold rings.

“Mr. Zenoviev,” he grunted, nodding. “Thanks for coming.”

This was the man who had left Jill to die in Racoon city over a virus sample. And now, instead of beating his face to a pulp on the meeting table, Chris had to speak to him like a human being instead of the slimy, disgusting rat that he was.

Because Nikolai Zenoviev had been successful, setting that sample. And over the years he had parlayed the modest fortune it had been sold for into a grotesque fortune based on the war economy of the stock market.

And now 25 years later after Zenoviev’s little deal, the world he had helped shape didn’t satisfy him. ‘It’s difficult to sip mai tais on the beach when people keep unleashing plagues on it’ he had told Doctor Hamilton when he’d made his new deal to fund the project.

There was more to it than that, Chris was sure of it. He trusted Zenoviev a hell of a lot less far than he could throw him.

But saving the world was not cheap.

They needed his money.

So unfortunately, Chris had to play nice.

“You know I’m always happy to see you, Mr. Redfield,” Zenoviev purred, as he pulled up a chair and sat down in it with lazy, catlike grace that betrayed his health despite his age. “Save any of that coffee for me?”

Chris stood up heavily. He was as polite as he could manage.”Let me get you a cup.”

“Much appreciated. Is Jill here today? I didn’t see her on my way in.”

Halfway to the coffee machine, Chris twitched at the invocation. “She’s out on a mission with Claire,” he grunted. “I don’t think she’ll be happy to hear you asked about her.”

Chris stood with his back to the man as he poured hot coffee into another styrofoam cup.

“What a shame. I wonder if she’ll ever forgive me? Two sugars, please, and a cream.”

He grit his teeth as he made the man’s coffee order. He turned and set it down in front of him.

“She has a bigger heart than I do, so maybe,” Chris said, sitting down again.”But she keeps a hell of a grudge, so maybe not.”

“Ah well, such is life.” Nikolai smiled, and Chris once again had to restrain himself from knocking his teeth out.

“Did Doctor Hamilton get you in contact with Wong?” he asked, changing the subject instead.

“He did.” Nikolai sipped his coffee. “She and I go quite far back, as it happens. And we had a very productive conversation. In fact, we might be seeing her here soon along with us, even. One of the ‘good guys’ as you say.”

Chris felt his teeth clench. He had never said that. He forced out a polite response. “Wonderful. And how about the data?”

“The brain scans?” He took a longer sip of coffee and smiled at Chris. “Negotiations were successful. We’ve arranged a handover in person. She requested Kennedy to bring the money. It’ll be taking place tomorrow night.”

“Tch, great,” Chris couldn’t hold back a snort at that news. If Wong had requested Leon be there, it was anyone’s guess whether she intended to actually go through with the deal, or just kick him off a waterfall and abscond with the money.

“You don’t approve?” Zenoviev raised an eyebrow.

“Kennedy and Wong have history.” Chris leaned forward. “A lot like you and Jill.”

“My boy, all of us in this business who are still alive have history with one another, you ought to know that.” He tapped his fingers on his paper cup. “It is the nature of enemies to become like friends after enough time has passed.”

Chris scoffed. “Is that supposed to be some kind of old man wisdom?”

“Take it or leave it, Redfield,” he purred. “Though if what George– sorry, Doctor Hamilton has told me about these brain scans is true, you’ll probably need that wisdom sooner rather than later.”

Chris’ whole body tensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The smile never left Zenoviev’s face. “Just what it sounds like, of course. You’ll be meeting old enemies again soon, if all goes well. How many of them did you personally kiss goodbye?”

The white hot rage blanked out Chris’ vision, and as it returned, for a moment he was terrified that he was going to find himself holding Zenoviev’s bloody corpse.

Fortunately for both of them, Chris was still seated stiffly exactly where he had been, every muscle in his body feeling so tense it was like they might pop.

And Zenoviev was still sitting there, smiling and sipping his coffee.

“Still with us, Redfield?” he purred after a moment. “They prescribe medicine, you know.”

He took a long, deep breath. It wasn’t enough.

“You’ve confirmed the meeting,” Chris said thickly. “I’ll notify Kennedy his services are needed. This meeting is over.”

He stood jerkily and his body didn’t like it at all, but he kept moving toward the door the best that he could.

“Terribly sorry to take up so much of your time,” Nikolai purred from behind him. “Good luck with whatever pressing matters you have to attend to this morning.”

Chris just kept walking, and congratulated himself for not slamming the door on the smug son of a bitch.

He stalked down the hallway, and project workers moved out of his way as he did, like he was a shark moving though the water and they were worried about becoming lunch.

Chris didn’t want to take his anger out on anyone, he really didn’t.

He pulled the crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook one out before searching for a lighter.

George! He hated that Zenoviev and Hamilton were on a first name basis. It made it even harder to question the Russian’s motives to the doctor’s face.

He hated that it made him question the doctor’s motives, too.

Chris flicked his lighter with a shaking hand and lit up his cigarette, taking a long breath of it.

Hamilton had been with them from the start. Since right out of Raccoon city. When they’d had to dissolve the BSAA last year, George had been horrified at the abuses they’d found. He didn’t think he’d ever seen the doctor so angry.

So why couldn’t Chris bring himself to trust him?

Maybe he just couldn’t trust any science types.

After all, they were the ones that had made the world this way. Hamilton had been busy reverse engineering the horror for two decades, but what would it take for him to break?

The Umbrella scientists had been motivated by money.

Even Wesker, in the beginning at least, had coveted riches.

What would it take to buy Doctor Hamilton, and did Zenoviev have enough money for it?

Chris tried to push the thought away, and keep working as always.

There wasn’t time for paranoia– he had to go see Leon and make sure he was prepared for the meeting.

As prepared as he could ever be for an encounter with Wong.

Chris didn’t remember prayers any more. He said a curse under his breath instead.

Chris banged on the door of Leon’s dormitory suite, staring straight ahead like his gaze could bore a hole in it.

And then he banged again, because Leon didn’t answer the damned door.

He was just about to give up and go find Hunigan instead when the door opened.

Leon, shirtless and hair askew stood there in the doorway quite casually. “Hey. Morning, Chris.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me I woke you up. It’s almost ten o’clock.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you,” Leon replied, scratching his pale and heavily scarred chest. “Maybe it’s nice to not be on a military schedule for once.”

After being put through hell by the US government for something like two decades, a combination of Claire’s nagging and a constant failure to actually do any meaningful good had finally gotten Leon to drop out and take up with them instead. Just in time for the troubles with the BSAA of course.

Chris jabbed him in the chest with a gloved finger. “You’re going to go soft.”

“Gimme a break. I take it this isn’t a social call then?”

“Hardly,” Chris snorted. “Let me in– unless you’d rather have this conversation on a morning run.”

“I’ll pass. I haven’t even had my coffee yet. Sounds like you haven’t, either, buddy.” Leon ducked back inside, and left the door open for Chris to follow.

“Not enough, that’s for sure,” he grumbled, pushing his way into Leon’s dorm. Like Heisenberg’s, it looked just like every other room including Chris’ own. Of course Leon’s was strewn with discarded laundry, and there was a large poster from an old Spider-Man movie taped to one of the walls at a slight angle.

Chris let himself get comfortable– as comfortable as he could anyway– in one of Leon’s chairs. Leon leaned against the opposite wall with his arms folded across his bare chest.

“So what’s up? I assume that Claire and Jill are alright, otherwise you would have just broken down the door.”

Chris grimaced, thinking of the update he’d gotten earlier that morning. “Mission control says they got a brief communication and hopefully they’re headed to the extraction point. This isn’t about them.”

“Thought so. They’re a pair of tough ladies.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. So what is this about?”

Chris squared his shoulders. “You have a mission tonight.”

“Funny, nobody told me. What if I have a hot date?”

“I’m telling you now, so you’d better reschedule,” Chris grumbled. “It just came up, and they asked for you specifically.”

“Don’t tell me it’s the president,” Leon groaned, a look of fatigue crossing his face.

“Worse. Ada Wong. And don’t make another crack about hot dates, I need you to take this seriously.”

“Trust me, I’m always serious where Ada Wong is involved.”

“Trust me, I remember.” The two of them stared each other down for a moment. Chris certainly hadn’t forgotten the debacle ten years prior, and he was certain Leon hadn’t either. In the end, Leon had been right to trust Ada, but that didn’t mean that Chris had to like it.

Leon broke the silence first. “So what does she need?”

“What else?” Chris grunted. “Money. She’s selling the project some intel, and she wants you to play hand off man.”

“Aww, she wanted to see me,” Leon grinned.

“Leon if you let her fuck us on this I will personally put you in lock up.” Chris couldn’t help the growl that escaped his lips.

Leon put his hands up. “Whoa, easy there, pal. Obviously I’m not going to let her get away with anything. What exactly are we buying?”

“I’ll tell you when you bring it back to base, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds like you need to trust your agents more, that’s how it sounds.”

Chris fished out his cigarettes and put one in his mouth. “If you don’t like the way I run the show you can always crawl back to uncle Sam.”

Leon glared at him. “Let me bum a smoke off you.”

“I thought you were quitting.” Chris handed the pack to him without complaint.

“Always time to quit later, right, Redfield?”

“Fuck if I know.” Chris lit his cigarette, and then Leon’s.

Silence hung over them for a long moment as they smoked.

“What’s the intel Ada’s got for us?” Leon finally asked again.

Chris sighed, exhaling a long puff of smoke from his lungs. Somehow it felt like his life was slowly spiraling out of control.

“Brain scans,” he admitted finally, feeling a lead weight on his chest. “Brain scans from tricell.”

“Oh.”

Even Kennedy didn’t have a funny quip for that.

They smoked in silence for a little while longer.

---

Chris spent the rest of the agonizingly long day getting things ready from an administrative perspective. Making sure everyone was briefed. Doing the paperwork, keeping an eye on what data went where.

He hated it. Chris was not a smart man, not in his own opinion, but every time he tried to be hands off with something and let the smarter people take the lead, it turned into a disaster.

Sometimes, he realized, he could understand why Captain Wesker had been such a control freak.

And he hated that he was turning into one too.

Desperately needing a distraction once everything was in order, he headed back down to the lab break-room. Maybe he could get another one of Heisenberg’s beers. He shouldn’t drink.

But by god did he fucking need something to take the edge off.

Only the person who was in the break room when he got there, wasn’t who he was expecting, and Chris stopped up short. “You’re back.”

Jill Valentine looked up from her coffee, and in an instant her pensive expression lit up in a grin.

“Redfield!” She laughed, standing with the clatter of her chair to embrace him in a hug “Yeah, me an’ your sister got things wrapped up faster than we thought.”

She’d changed so much– yet so little over the years. Ever since that nightmare in Africa she hadn’t aged a day, still locked at the age she was when she pitched out that window in the Spencer Manor.

But time made other marks on her. Pale blond hair in a short bob cut brushed his cheek as she squeezed him tight enough to steal his breath…she’d become a reflection of their old captain. From the sunglasses she rarely removed, to the uncomfortable and feverish warmth of her skin.

“Happy to see me?”

“Happy as ever. I was getting ready to come after you myself after you two went radio silent the other day.” He stomped out his cigarette on the tile floor and stepped over to sweep her into a quick, tight hug.

“You know how it is, Chris.” She said as she pulled away enough to look at him through the reflective lenses of her sunglasses, her smile wide below them. On the chest of her shirt , just under her leather jacket was her security badge, restricted access, marked with the symbols of one of the ‘assets’, like Heisenberg.

“You get ass deep in political intrigue and you can’t risk someone catching on because you had to call and say goodnight.”

“Yeah, I sure know,” he sighed, letting her back off. His gaze flickered from the shades to the badge. He loved her, god of course he did after everything they’d been through, but it was hard to look at her sometimes anyway. The constant reminder… “Doesn’t mean I didn’t miss your goodnight calls.”

He smiled a little more genuinely and sat down heavily in one of the cookie cutter chairs that littered the area, pulling out his cigarettes. “I take it Claire’s doing the debrief right now?”

“Mm hmm.” Jill nodded as she tucked her hair over her ear and leaned back against the table to look down at him. “She’s giving the whole spiel to the higher ups and I’ve been sent back here to the ol’ lab , sweet lab.”

She laughed at that, shrugging her shoulders. “Lucky us, it went pretty smooth. Got a few names. Nobody died. I hardly even got to stretch my legs.” she grinned at him,”…I missed calling you too, you know. Your sister’s cute, but it ain’t the same as my old partner.”

“Would have liked to be out there with you, but unfortunately there’s shit to deal with around here,” he sighed. “You know I hate being in admin, but look what happened last time.”

Chris shook his head, trying to push away the memories of what had happened in the upper echelons of the BSAA when he’d tried to leave the administration to the pencil pushers. This was exactly what he’d been trying to get away from thinking about. “Anyway, if Claire’s stuck doing the paperwork it means you get first dibs at the coffee, right?”

Jill leaned back to grab her coffee cup and raise it to him with a snicker. “Already ahead of you, partner. This is my second cup.”

She raised it to her lips, “You know, as one of the big guys around here…maybe you can swing some better shit for us assets, huh? This coffee’s absolute dogshit.”

“Trust me, it’s the same shit we’re drinking upstairs, Jill,” he said, shaking his head. “You want better coffee, you’re gonna have to take it up with your friend penny pinching mr. moneybags. Saw the dirtbag earlier today, as it happens.”

Jill rolled her eyes and tipped back the rest of her coffee.

“Ughhhhh. Fuckin’ cheapskate…far as I’ve seen the bastard’s saving our coffee money for another set of gold rings,” she grumbled as she slammed the mug down on the table. “How’s the helicopter thief doin’, anyway?” Chris knew Jill held a grudge…and she sure as hell was holding tight to this one.

“Extremely fucking smug is how,” Chris grumbled. “I nearly took his head off his shoulders this morning. Too bad we need him and his dirty money, or I would have.”

“Someone’s gotta pay the bills.” Jill said as she shifted on the table to look at him “and hell knows the Tricell money’s long dried up, so I ain’t much of a help there.”

“Not for money, but I’m glad you’re here.”He rubbed his neck, and wondered how to bring it up. This was going to play on her mind as badly as it was playing on his. But he sure as hell didn’t want her finding out from anyone but him. “Speaking of Tricell…”

“Ominous start, Redfield.” Jill said as her cheerful expression took a downtick to a concerned frown.

“Do you remember Raymond Vester? I know you ran into him during the Queen Zenobia incident, but I have no idea if he was still active while you were…” he trailed off. This was always so fucking awkward to talk about. “Anyway, he’s trying to get in good with the project, and Doctor Hamilton and I got some information from him the other day.”

“Vesty?” Jill snickered, though it seemed just a little forced “Yeah, I remember Ray. Him and fuckin’ Jessica were part of the Tricell crew for a bit before they went dark…”

She pushed her sunglasses up her nose. “An old coworker of mine…” she glanced over at Chris with a little ‘hm’ of breath. “…he’s trying to join up, huh? Him AND Jess, or is she still off trying to play Ada Wong? Whatta they got for us?”

“Yeah, Jess too. Apparently they’re a package deal,” he snorted. “And funny you should mention Wong, because he did too. He’s trying to buy his way into our good graces with intel the doctor’s interested in. Maybe you can confirm this– he told us that Tricell took and maintained full brain scans of all high level employees.”

“….well, well.” That wiped the smile entirely off her face.“Shoulda figured he’d bring that up eventually.”

She tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “Yeah. Everyone who wasn’t viral fodder or some kinda intern had to sit down and undergo a brainscanning procedure. Me. Ray. Jess. Fucking everyone, even that slimeball Irving. We all got a brain scan. Used to be Umbrella procedure…the boss…” Her voice hitched, and she quickly looked away “I mean– Albert Wesker–insisted on it.”

Chris swallowed thickly. He’d been thinking she was going to say that. He reached over and put his hand on hers. It was warm– always a little too warm. “So the intel’s good then. At least– at least we aren’t wasting money then. Provided that Wong doesn’t screw Leon over again tonight.”

He looked into Jill’s eyes, or as near as he could with the shades in the way. “Hamilton wants to buy access to the brain scans.”

Jill’s lips twitched over her teeth, her whole body stiffening. Her too warm hand curled under his as she laughed. “….I’m sure Wong’ll screw Leon one way or the other.” she said , deflecting with a bit of humor like she always did when she didn’t want to address another issue.

But it loomed over them both. Enough that she finally said, “…why’s he wanna buy the brain scans, Chris? He’s not looking to bring back fucking Excella, is he? Because I would REALLY rather I never see her face again.”

Chris squeezed Jill’s hand tightly and didn’t look away from her. “Not Excella, Jill. not as far as I know.”

The uncomfortable idea hung between them like the blade of a guillotine.

“Hamilton thinks that if we have the original minds that started the BOW projects….”

He heard her suck her breath in through her teeth. He could feel her whole body tense even as her expression turned unreadable.

“Pretty bold move, bringing all those folks back from hell.” She said slowly. “…your sister’ll be happy.”

“Guess we’ll see,” he said in a low voice, his fingers entwined with hers. “It’s… a lot. Isn’t it, Jill?”

“It’s a bit fucking much, if I’m gonna be honest, Chris,” she replied with an even tone. “…they’re talking the Birkins and …and the like. Right?”

“Did Tricell have scans of the Birkins?” Chris asked. He could hear the hoarse edge in his own voice. “I think we both know who Hamilton’s planning to bring back first.”

She was halfway through a nod when she stopped and grit her teeth. “Yeah”. Her voice choked in her throat, the word came strangled from her lips through tensed teeth. “Of course.”

“Yeah,” he agreed roughly, still holding her hand as tightly as he could. “I don’t know, Jill. I don’t…”

He glanced away from her.

Her fingers clenched tightly around his…it was easy to tell how much stronger she’d be come as her fingers closed tighter and tighter around his…her breath strained.

“You don’t want them to bring the …” She hissed softly, and corrected herself “…to bring Wesker back?”

This was one of the many reasons Jill still had the classification she had…every now and again, she’d slip. ‘The Captain’. ‘The boss’. Old loyalty that never quite died even in the fire of her anger.

A thousand words and answers knotted up at the top of Chris’s throat. Of course he didn’t. Of course he did. They had to. They couldn’t.

He choked out after a moment. “What if I have to kill him again, Jill?” he asked in a hushed voice. “I could barely manage it the first time. If he– I won’t– I won’t be able to, Jill. Not again.”

Jill frowned subtly, delicately pushing her sunglasses up her nose…a familiar expression…one that was more suited to the face of a dead man than her own.

She turned her hand to bring his hand up to her cheek, resting her face against the back of his hand. “…I had to watch you kill him, Chris.” she hissed softly.

“…if it goes wrong, if we have to kill him again.” Her too warm hand squeezed his..and he felt a hot tear hit the back of his hand and roll down his wrist. “I’ll take care of it.”

He couldn’t look at her– not when she looked at him like that. He buried his head in the cook of her shoulder instead, holding onto her as if it was for his life.

“God damn it,” he hissed softly.

“…they really want to do it, don’t they?” She said again. “…Hamilton wants Wesker back, for…what? He’s brilliant but I watched him deteriorate before my fucking eyes.”

“Same reason he brought Miranda back, I guess,” he said, not moving from his position against her. “I guess–”

Chris was interrupted by the beeping of his watch, and straightened up suddenly. “God damn it. Jill– I’m sorry. I have to go. Leon.”

Jill’s expression tensed. For a moment it seemed like she’d beg him not to go, But instead she alighted in that familiar smile.

The one she only used when she was pretending to be happier than she really was. “Ah well. Shit happens, Redfield.” She playfully punched his arm “tell the guy I say hey, huh? And good luck not getting pegged by Wong tonight.”

He squeezed her tightly, and returned the pretend smile as he got up, before grumbling. “If he gets pegged on project time he is not getting paid for it.”

That was how they always got through these things. Pretending nothing was wrong.

Just another mission.

Heisenberg gave a little tip of his hat to Chris as he passed him in the hall. It seemed to be happening more and more frequently. Karl wasn’t going to complain; honestly for as much shit as he had given him, and as bad as their first meeting had been, he kind of liked the guy.

Unfortunately, his time, Chris just grunted out, “Not now,” and kept going down the hall.

Karl shook his head. “Wonder what’s gotten into him now?” he muttered as he headed into the break room.

“Man’s got ants in his pants,” he mumbled as he went for the coffee machine– not realizing yet that the room was still otherwise occupied. It was a woman he’d met a few times by now sat in a chair, staring hard into an empty ceramic up through the lenses of her sunglasses. JIll Valentine, a fellow ‘asset’ of the project.

She didn’t notice him as he entered, or she did, she made no indication. It was a shocking contrast to her usual cheerful banter and sly grin that she’d plaster on for anyone and everyone in the facility any other day.

He glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow. “Man, sour mood around here. No ‘hi Karl, I brought you a souvenir’?”

Jill suddenly shuddered– a full body shudder, as a false smile spread across her face, like she was a doll suddenly being activated. “Hey Karl!”

She turns in her chair to lean on the table, tilting her sunglasses down enough to wink one burning red eye at him, before pushing them back up. “I got you a souvenir, but one of the licky bastards ate it.”

“And you didn’t reach back in to get it?” he shook his head, playing along and shuffled over putting down a full coffee cup next to her. “Here gimme your cup, Valentine, you look like you could use about six of em.”

She lifted it, handing it to him with a lopsided grin. “More like a solid ten. Today’s been a real bitch, Karl. Tell you what? Next time I’ll steal you a walkman or something while I’m out there. Really blow your mind.”

“Now we’re talking,” he grinned, taking her up and putting it in the sink before pouring one for himself. “I saw Redfield coming outta here– he wasn’t giving you a hard time was he? Kind of a big grouch.”

“Redfield couldn’t give me a hard time even if he wanted to.” Jill laughed out loud, leaning on her hand with her trademark grin. “Me and him go wayyyy back to the Raccoon City days. He can grump all he likes, but I know how to handle ‘im.”

“So you’ve said, so you’ve said,” he nodded, flopping down into his chair, and taking a long drink of his coffee. “Had him over for a beer while you were gone, actually. Felt bad for the sad sack.”

“Holy shit, he actually agreed to have a beer with you? Did the sky open up and fuckin’ ANGELS pour out?” She snickered as she watched him through her sunglasses “How’d he take it? Did you actually get him to relax?”

Despite her laughter and familiar grin, even Karl who didn’t know her that well, could tell it was somewhat forced.

“Open up a little maybe,” he said, sipping his coffee. “Relax, though? only for a few minutes, I guess he’s right on edge again today. A little like you, Ms. Valentine.” He gestures toward her with his coffee cup.

“Ouch, that obvious, huh?” Jill hummed as she pushed her sunglasses up. They reflected in the lenses of his own. “Guess these things really don’t do shit. Though with your dollmaker you’re used to more inscrutable expressions, huh?”

“Got it in one. With Donna around you get a sense of subtle body language. Well, for all the times her doll isn’t screaming about it in your ear,” Karl huffed, thinking of the little menace. “But seriously, lay it on your ol’ pal Karl. Cause it sure seems like chatting up your old partner didn’t help so much. What’s up?”

Karl was loving getting a chance to turn up the charm on all the people that he met, here. After years sequestered away in the village with a shrinking population of yokels, all of whom were desperately afraid of him– it was nice just to be able to fucking talk to someone for once.

“You hear what the good doctor’s plannin’?” Jill asked, as she tucked a lock of pale hair over her ear. She took a moment…pulling on a pair of gloves. Maybe the sensations had started to get overwhelming. Maybe it was another little barrier between her and the world.

“Bringing back a bunch of dead mad scientists?” he asked, remembering what Redfield had been on about the day before.. “That seemed to be the bit that was sticking in your man Redfield’s craw.”

“Not just any scientist.” Jill leaned on her gloved hand with a slight grimace on her face. Barely perceptible to any but those used to picking up the smallest signs. And Karl was one of those. He could probably read her in the dark.

“Albert Wesker…my boss. The man who made me into what I am today.” Jill tapped significantly on a spot on her chest. “–our old Captain from the STARS days. A man we followed happily until shit all went wrong at once and the man who dragged me outta a ravine to put me back together after the old me died.”

“Huh,” Karl pushed his small glasses up over his nose as he considered it. “That sounds like a hell of a lot of history, admittedly.”

Jill slapped the table with a hollow laugh. “You can say that again, Karlito. Nothin’ but history and death, really. Lotta corpses scattered through the whole sordid affair.”

She leans on her hand. “Between Arklay and our team, and the shit me and the boss did in Tricell and how Chris had to put the man down while I watched? Hardly a surprise the guy’s all twisted up that the docs wanna bring him back like nothing ever happened.”

Karl watched her as the dark expression crossed her face, and the tension seemed to fill her posture.. “Like I said to him, I guess I know a little of that, what with me and Miranda, you know? But what about you, huh?”

Jill tensed further, her leather gloves creaking as she stares down at the table. Her glasses slip, just a little. Conflicted eyes of blood red stare down at her curled fingers as she shrugs.

“What about me, Karl.”

Karl took a sip of his coffee and looked at her cooly from behind his smoked shades. “What about your feelings.”

“What are those?” Jill gave him a smile like a knife. “Afraid I haven’t had those since I left ‘em at the bottom of a ravine, man.”

He fished the half smoked cigar out of his pocket and lit up, not taking his eyes off her.. “Funny thing about numb. That’s a feeling too, you know. People who lose limbs, they don’t feel nothing there. Sometimes it hurts like hell.”

“…” Jill winced at that. “fucking perceptive-ass mold man.”

That got a laugh at him, and he shook his head. “Sorry, kiddo. Can’t get as old as I am without learning a thing or two about pain. I get it if you don’t wanna talk about it though.”

He had no intention of pushing her; after all, he was game to talk about anything. But something told him it was weighing heavy on her mind, and it might give him more insight about what was giving Redfield the run around in his head too.

Jill sighed, and pushed her hair back. “I’m all fucked up, Karl,” admitted with a quiet earnestnes. “…there’s a reason i’m down in the Petting Zoo with you lot, instead of up with the folks from the same fucking organization I helped found. With the project operatives. There’s a reason I can’t go anywhere without a damn escort despite the fact I got history with every single person here and a stable mutation.”

“And it’s got something to do with this guy they’re bringing back that you both know. Your ex boss.” He nodded and puffed on his cigar for a moment before offering it to Jill.

“My ex boss.” Jill murmured before she took the cigar gladly. She didn’t often smoke anymore, but she put it to her lips and took a shallow inhale.

“Me and Wesker go way back. Chris and I, we were his best men during the STARS days. His go-to team. He trusted us…he was our Captain, you know? I loved him…we loved him. There was a lot of care in that office…l-least..”

She hesitated and smiled sadly “there seemed to be. Can’t help but wonder sometimes, I guess.”

“How long ago was that?” He asked, leaning on his hand and watching her with his cigar. Karl had no idea of the timeframe of any of the terrible things that had apparently been happening to this world while he lived in the mountains. “Must have been a while, from everything I’ve heard.”

“Fuck,” she murmured. Karl immediately knew it was long enough that she had to really think about it. “back in the 1990’s. Decades. Long enough for children to get doctorates, become full on adults.”

“A good long time then. Longer after than was lived, eh? But you and him are still carrying it around with you. Must have been a hell of a thing.”

He fiddled with the metal bits around his neck as he spoke, thinking about it. He didn’t have a lot of frame of reference for any of the specifics, admittedly, but the emotion… Now that, he knew all about. That was obvious on the girl’s face.

“Yeah.” Jill’s fingers claspped against something in her jacket pocket.. “…he led the STARS team in the Arklay mountains, Heisenberg. Lotta our friends died. Lotta people called it a betrayal…but I don’t think he had much choice.” She looked off to the side. “He came back after that stronger than ever, increasingly entwined with Umbrella’s viruses. From the T-Veronica, to the whole mess with plagas…he was always there in the thick of it. It drove Chris crazy….drove me mad too.”

“I can see why that would sting,” Karl agreed, grimacing as he thought it over.. “He was your leader. Stabbed you in the back and then kept showing up to make things worse, eh? No wonder Redfield’s pissed. But I feel like there’s not all there is to it.”

“…” Jill murmured something under her breath, before she pushed her glasses up. “…not by a long shot. Karl. It ain’t something I talk to Chris about much, because it’s hard. He gets emotional, and it starts pulling me out of that numbness you caught onto. And it hurts.”

“I won’t push ya, but if it’s something you want off your chest, I’m here. Or we can talk about something else.”

Despite his words, he was powerfully curious what exactly happened now. He had his suspicions. After all, he wasn’t a stupid man. Far from it.

Jill looked up at him through the thick lenses of her sunglasses for a moment “…so, eventually Karl…Chris and I got a lead on Spencer. The old nazi fuck who caused all this. So we hunted him down. Came to his isolated European manor.”

“Spencer. That’s a name I’ve been hearing a lot about. Hell, pretty sure I heard Miranda talk about him back… in the village.” He mumbled, and rubbed his stubbly chin as he thought it over.

“Yeah, I’ve heard her mention him here once or twice. Old bastard who wanted to live forever.” She smiled grimly at Karl under her shades. “Sure wasn’t alive when we found him though. Saw the Captain standing over his corpse when we got there. Revenge.”

“Revenge, huh?” he raised an eyebrow. “And just how does that piece fit?”

“I’ll get there.” Jill said with a low chuckle. “Patience, old man .So anyway. He attacks us, because of course he does…super fast, super strong…we’re outclassed.” She gestured with her hands as she spoke before she paused. “…and so of course he winds up getting a bead on Chris after everything. So I do something stupid. I tackle my old boss and send us both flying out the fucking window–over a ravine.”

Karl watched her as she mimed falling with her hand. “Hit the wall three times on the way down, and hit the bottom with barely anything left of my spine. I shoulda died. Lotta times I think I did.”

“Son of a bitch,” Karl nodded, almost appreciatively. He leaned on his hands, listening as she continued the story. Far be it from him to stop her once she was going.

Jill frowned.

“Only I didn’t. See…because the boss hauled me out of there, despite him hitting the ground too. He took me to the Tricell labs and he rebuilt me. Fixed my spine–gave me the same virus that turned him into something beyond human and made sure I became the same….as you can see, I got a free dye job out of it , too. And all that time he told me what he was up to. He convinced me, because of my old loyalty…that love…that he knew what he was doing. That the world needed to be saved.”

The picture was beginning to come together, alright. “I see…. So what happened? Cause clearly that didn’t work out.”

“…he went too fucking far. Injected himself with the worst virus I’d ever seen, no matter what concerns I raised.”Jill laughed ruefully. “It spiraled out, and made him go from a man with ambition to a madman trying to wipe out half the earth. By the time Chris came back into the picture, and I failed to stop him…it was clear the Captain was gone. So Chris put him down, with my advice on how to kill him for good. No matter how bad it hurt.”

“Because no matter what anyone says…the boss cared about us,” She hissed through her teeth. “He didn’t want Arklay. He didn’t want us standing against him. He wouldn’t have spared Chris repeatedly otherwise. He wouldn’t have saved me. But that didn’t fucking matter when he turned himself into a goddamned cartoon supervillain with worms.”

“Ah.” Karl rubbed his neck, thinking about his own less than rational tantrum. The moment his body and his mind had unwound all together. “Went too far, huh.”

He looked down at the table, staring at it through his smoked lenses.

“I wanted it to end any other way, Karl. I tried so hard as his right hand. But once that virus twisted him up it was over.” Her fingers clenched. “…sometimes I don’t even think he recognized me…and that’s the Wesker Chris had to face. So it’s no wonder he’s all fucked up over it.”

She laughed again, a darkness hard and knotted in her tone “…and why I’m all twisted up over him coming back. Maybe I’m scared he’ll spiral out again and I’ll have to kill him. Maybe I’m scared I’ll just fall right back into being his loyal attack dog. I dunno..”

Karl nodded, slowly. “I can see what you mean. I guess it all comes down to second chances, eh? Whether or not something’s gonna change.”

“Yeah.” Jill nodded, leaning back in her chair “…I’m willing to give the boss another chance…but Chris. He was heartbroken. He was right there. Anything that happens after Wesker is brought back is gonna carry that weight. That’s his burden with Wesker. My loyalty …the fucking Tricell days…is mine.”

Karl whistled and shook his head. “And I thought Miranda and I had issues,” he paused.”I still have some of those beers in my fridge if you wanna lighten the load for a little while.”

“….” Jill ran her hand through her golden hair before she flashed him a smile “you know what? I had a long fucking mission. That sounds great.”

Karl staggered to his feet and offered Jill a hand up.He thought the years had been unkind to him, but it seemed like it might be nothing in comparison to what Redfield and Valentine had been through.

Chris watched the video feed on the monitor with his breath held as Leon took the memory chip from Ada, and plugged it into the device embedded in his briefcase.

Sitting next to Chris at a bank of computers, watching their readout was Doctor Hamilton. He was watching a bar fill as data transferred. There was a ping, and Hamilton nodded in satisfaction, pulling up the files.

Chris looked over his shoulder, not fully understanding what he was looking at. “is it the data you need?”

Hamilton gazed at the files a second longer, the white boxes reflected in the lenses of his reading glasses. “Yes. This is what we were looking for. Tell support they can give Kennedy the go ahead to complete the transfer.”

Chris punched the button on his lapel for the support crew. “Kennedy can complete the transfer.”

He didn’t wait for a reply before closing the comm.

“I’m surprised she actually came through,” Chris said, watching as Leon disengaged the data uplink, taking the memory chip and handing the briefcase to Wong.

“I don’t think she’s as bad as you make her out to be, Chris,” Hamilton said thoughtfully. “Many of those people still alive who were involved at the beginning of these things are unsatisfied with the end that their actions have led to.”

Chris made a sharp noise of disgust in his throat. “I don’t know what they expected. Buying and selling weapons of mass extinction.”

“Perhaps they imagined another detente of the cold war,” the doctor considered. “The safe assurance of mutual destruction that the spread of nuclear proliferation brought. Unfortunately, I think bioweapons were just too subtle for the men in power to worry over using. A grave error indeed.”

“Yeah. I’ll fucking say they did.” Chris crossed his arms. “And how many millions of lives did that ‘error’ cost? or is it in the billions, now?”

Hamilton took his glasses off and slipped them in his breast pocket as he turned to look up at Chris.

“And if a person looks upon the evil they’ve done with regret, what is better? To drive them into exile so that they can die in shame, or to welcome the good that they can do now, despite their past actions?”

Chris felt his brow furrow and he looked away. “Some things can’t just be forgiven, no matter how bad you want them to change.”

“I’m not surprised you feel that way, Chris,” the doctor sighed. “I know the kind of rigid standard that you hold yourself to. It’s okay to forgive yourself too, you know.”

Chris’ fists clenched. He opened his mouth to argue, but he couldn’t. The face of Ethan Winters swam in his mind; along with Piers, along with every other face of every other good person who Chris’ choices had destroyed.

He couldn’t argue that he didn’t need forgiving. Or that he wasn’t even nearly ready to forgive himself.

The silence hung in the air like smoke.

“You’ve forgiven your friend Valentine, haven’t you?” the doctor asked slowly. “Despite what anyone else has to say on the matter.”

“Jill was brainwashed!” Chris repeated the old lie.It was such a convenient lie. So easy to believe. It had kept Jill from being executed by multiple governments. Chris had never believed it, but he needed to repeat it enough times that it became the truth.

Chris could never blame Jill. Despite everything.

No. Sometimes in the night, the ugly, tainted sting of jealousy was a bitter pill.

Never blame.

Doctor Hamilton politely let the lie pass. He sighed and put his glasses back on.

“It will take several days to go over the data here, and then likely a further few weeks to perfect a way to transfer it to the mutamycete as a schema. In the meantime, we have already started prepping the facility to catalyze another body. We have the appropriate samples.”

“Wesker,” Chris grunted. “You’re talking about growing a new Wesker.”

“Where’d you get the samples?” Chris demanded, feeling his shoulders tense. “When are they from?”

“They were recovered from Alex Wesker’s laboratory during the cleanup of the Sejm Island incident in late 2011. The exact date of the sample is unknown, but what we know for certain is that it is subsequent to Project W’s completion, and prior to the subject’s Uroborus exposure. The only viral markers the DNA shows are that of progenitor exposure.”

“Great,” Chris snapped sardonically. He refused to acknowledge what good news that actually was. That it meant a Wesker who, in body at least, would be something like the man he’d known years ago. “So whatever it is you’re bringing back is still going to be a tyrant in human clothing.”

“Lacking nuance as usual, Redfield,” Hamilton sighed. “The subjects of Project W who were exposed to the progenitor virus– those who lived in any case– were not Tyrants like the subjects of the early T-virus experiments, per se. The effect on their genome, while present, is not nearly as significantly mutagenic. Again, not in the survivors in any case.”

“Let me remind you both of those ‘survivors’ that we know of went on to create even worse viruses to mutate them even more,” Chris growled, crossing his arms more tightly over his chest. “Are we even sure the sample you have is Albert Wesker’s?”

“We are reasonably certain, yes. There would be no reason for Alex Wesker to knowingly keep a private sample of her ‘brother’s’ DNA that was incorrectly labeled or fake.”

“I guess.”

“Doctor Burton has confirmed as well that the sample is almost certain to be genuine.”

Chris grimaced. “Great. And does ‘Doctor Burton’ know what you’re going to do with it?”

Hamilton clicked his tongue. “It has been discussed with her. She has expressed some frustration with the cloning project in general.”

“Yeah, because she didn’t come up with it herself a decade ago when she was Alex fucking Wesker,” Chris scoffed.

“Chris…” Hamilton’s tone was gentle, but warning.

He hated thinking about Barry’s adopted youngest daughter. Of course, he would never, not in a million years say anything about to Barry, his oldest friend.

But he knew.

Everyone knew.

Everyone knew that Alex Wesker’s little experiment had been a success and that ‘Natalia Burton’– née Korda– was simply a comfortable lie. Raised by Barry Burton for the last ten plus years she was a beautiful, vivacious, and charming, if somewhat reserved young adult, already in possession of a doctorate. Barry loved her to pieces. Moira loved her to pieces.

But, Natalia, if she’d ever been real since they’d met her, no longer existed. There was just Alex Wesker again.

And everyone pretended the polite fiction that Natalia was a real person, who merely had access to Alex Wesker’s memories sometimes.

It was the same kind of polite fiction that protected Jill Valentine.

When Chris stayed quiet, Hamilton spoke again.

“You should talk to her, Chris. Maybe it would help set both of you more at ease.”

He felt his teeth clench, and fished his cigarettes out of his pocket. “I’ll think about it. Anyway. Just realize if you flash Albert Wesker’s brain scan into some body that isn’t his, he’s not going to be fucking happy about it.”

“Obviously.” Hamilton rolled his eyes as Chris lit his cigarette. “As I said, the scan won’t be ready to be applied for at least a month. And that will give us ample time to confirm that the body in the lab is the correct one.”

Chris closed his eyes and took a long puff off of his cigarette, drawing the smoke deep into his chest and letting it sit there until it hurt. He let the breath out. “So you’re starting it soon.”

“Tonight, if possible. There’s no reason to delay.”

“No? Not going to run it by an ethics committee first?”

Doctor Hamilton looked at Chris quite pointedly. “You are the ethics committee, Mr. Redfield. Wasn’t that the whole point of this operation? Now tell me, are you going to tell the team not to go forward with this project? Because now is the time to voice that.”

Chris looked at the floor. “I thought I made it pretty clear how I felt when you were talking about it yesterday, Hamilton.”

“Your feelings are not in question here, Mr. Redfield,” Hamilton said slowly, looking down to force Chris to meet his gaze. “You never raised an objection. Are you raising one now?”

The moment hung in the air.

The ache in Chris’ chest was from more than just the cigarette smoke.

“No objection. Make it happen.”

Chris Redfield was the man who gave the ‘okay’ to bring Albert Wesker back to life.

So much for not having anything to forgive, with what kind of monster he might be unleashing on the world.

---

Chris lay awake in bed staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of the air conditioner’s hum. He had no idea if he’d been lying there for tens of minutes, or for hours at this point

He couldn’t sleep.

How could he sleep?

In the labs downstairs they were working to rebirth a man who had been dead for more than a decade.

A man who Chris had had to kill.

Wesker had been reaching for home when he died.

There were days when Chris wished that he had let Wesker pull him down with him.

There were days when he wished he could somehow have pulled him out and saved him.

He imagined it now; reaching his hand out to Wesker’s and pulling him up. And somehow, magically, after everything that had passed between them, everything being okay.

Was that what this was?

Would Wesker praise him for it, or curse him for it? Would he even want to live after his failure? Chris didn’t know.

He didn’t feel like he knew anything about Wesker any more. Not really.

Once upon a time Chris had been his right hand man. Until July 24th, 1998, Chris thought he would follow that man into the mouth of hell.

Maybe in some ways he still had.

But it had all turned out to be a fairytale. A lie. The Albert Wesker Chris had served under when he was captain of STARS simply didn’t exist and never had.

That was what Wesker himself had claimed, and Chris clung desperately to it. Clung desperately to the idea that the man he had admired so much had never existed.

Because that, that was a slap in the face.

But the idea that there had been something real there, even if Wesker couldn’t admit it, that was a knife to the ribs.

Chris didn’t know how Jill stayed sane believing that the captain who had led them, and the bond they’d shared in STARS were real, and had been destroyed.

Maybe the real answer was that she didn’t.

What would Wesker say, when he came back? When he woke up surrounded by scientists, his last memory one of getting his brain waves scanned?

What had he been doing at the time it was taken? What had he been thinking?

What would he think of how the world had changed while he was gone.

Chris rolled over, and sat up in bed. There was no use even trying to sleep.

He grabbed his jeans from the laundry, and pulled them on.

He was going to go down and watch the lab guys start the process. Even if there wasn’t much to see to speak of.

Chris had been there when Wesker died. He should be there when they brought him back.

When did Chris end up talking to Doctor Burton after all, It was not because he sought her out as Hamilton recommended.

The two of them simply found each other arriving at the lab that housed the cloning facility at the same time, several days after the cloning process had begun.

The serious-faced twenty year old doctor was lost in her own world when Chris rounded the corner, her hazel eyes lidded as she stared intently at the door she refused to enter. She’d certainly grown up in the years Chris knew her…but it was hard to look at her without seeing…

Her.

Alex Wesker. With the way her dark hair tumbled in a wavy curl over her shoulder, tied by a blue ribbon like always, to the pensive way her fingers cupped her chin in thought as she frowned at the door and hesitated yet another moment to go inside.

Chris stopped up short when he saw her. He considered just turning back around and walking away.

So for just a moment there were two of them both lingering motionless in the hall.

Finally Chris spoke. “Doctor.”

Natalia shook herself out of her own thoughts for a moment, before she turned to face Chris with a warm and pleasant smile on her face. “Ah…good morning, Chris.”

She paused a moment before correcting herself, “I mean, Mr. Redfield” A long time ago, when Chris came to family dinners with the Burtons, Natalia would call him by his name…but as they both got older, and Dr. Burton got a job with the project, it switched to something far more formal.

Chris sighed, thinking back to those same dinners. “You can call me Chris, you know. All the eggheads here trained me not to forget when someone has a doctorate.”

There was something in her expression, for just a moment…before it flickered away with a quiet laugh.

“They trained you well, then.” She took a step forward, towards the door, before she stopped and glanced his way. “Were you coming to the cloning lab?”

Chris hesitated, slipping his hands into his pockets. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah. And you?”

“I…” She hesitated a moment before she lowered her hand from her chin to her side. “I’m part of the project, so I thought I might check up on how things were going.”

Chris nodded slowly, wondering what exactly made her so hesitant. “Of course. Let me get the door, eh?”

He stepped forward, briefly overshadowing her with his large form, and pushed it open. The cool air wafted out from inside.

She shuddered subtly, before she gave him one of her youthful smiles and stepped inside, arms folded over her chest as she slipped through the doorway.

Chris followed quietly in after her. It was still and quiet. There was one young technician at the monitoring station, who gave them both an awkward wave as they ended, and went back to what she was doing.

The room was dominated by the quatro of immense glass and steel tanks. Only one was full now, of a bluish green fluid. Very little else visible, at least at this distance.

Dr. Burton walked towards the tube, a complicated look that didn’t quite belong on your young face crossing her expression as she looked up at it, staring into the blueish green fluid like she’d find some sort of answer to a puzzle within.

Chris followed right behind her, just as entranced.

As they got closer it was easier to see the small knot of cells floating in the translucent artificial womb.

Natalia’s lips were drawn, her eyes staring firmly at the start of life ahead of her. It was an expression not suited to her youthful face…an expression of pain, longing…and something else.

She raised a careful hand, and placed it against the glass with a subtle movement of her lips. Something whispered he couldn’t quite hear.

A moment later she spoke up “it looks like the cells are holding up well” she called back to the technician. “No signs of instability yet?”

“Growth is normal so far, doctor,” the technician answered.

Normal, Chris thought, looking at the tank. As if anything about this was normal.

As if anything about Albert Wesker could be normal at all.

“Good, then the sample from Dr. Wesker’s lab must have been stable.” Natialia said with nod of her head “…given it’s clearly the real deal, I’d say we’re in luck.”

“You’re sure it’s real?” Chris asked, stepping close behind her to look at the tank. He overshadowed her, and they were both warped and reflected in the glass. “How… can you be sure at this stage?”

He perhaps meant it as an accusation, but it wasn’t how it came out. Hesitant, and almost pleading.

Natalia stiffened, and for the flicker of a moment something dark crossed her warm brown eyes. She turned to look at the technician “Do you mind giving us a little privacy? Just for a moment. I can handle the monitoring duties for now.”

The technician nodded. “Of course, doctor. If you need me, I’ll be in the breakroom.” She flashed a thumbs up, and hurried out of the lab.

Natalia flashed the thumbs up in return, one of her old smiles lighting up her face…until the door closed behind the technician.

She turned to face Chris with a strange look in her eyes “I know.” she said slowly. “I’ve gone over the genetic code and I can confidently say it’s a 100% match.”

Chris met her gaze, looking down at her not too unkindly perhaps. “Then that’s your brother in there.”

She twitched. Natalia’s expression darkened for a moment into a dangerous scowl as her hand clenched around the arm of her lab coat.

But it melted away as she turned, dark hair obscuring her expression.

“Why Chris,” she said slowly, “what a thing to say.”

She looked up at the tube, walking towards it once more. The young woman’s hand touched the glass “That is indeed Albert Wesker, before form and before mind…at the very start of a metamorphosis.”

“Metamorphosis,” Chris mumbled. He crossed his arms in the cool air. “How many times do you think someone needs one of those to get it right?”

Natalia’s lips had gone tight again. “As many times as it takes, Mr. Redfield.” the reserved if vibrant voice of Natalia Burton came out different in the lonely lab, amid the glow of the tube.

“Logic may indeed be unshakeable, but it cannot withstand a man who is determined to live.” she leaned forward, until her forehead pressed on the glass “Kafka wrote that in The Trial, Chris…and the children of the Wesker project are nothing if not determined to live…damn the logic and damn the fates.”

Her fingers tensed against the glass. “For Albert, it will be as many times as it takes.”

“Yeah.” Chris huffed softly, keeping his arms tight against his chest. “Wish I had all the words you do, doctor. I don’t know how to say what I’m feeling.”

He looked up at the cluster of cells in the tube. There was something intimate and awe-ful about it.

“It’s a Redfield trait, I’ve noticed.” Perhaps it was just the acoustics but her voice seemed to tremble for a moment. Her shoulders shook , almost imperceptibly.

“Look at him, Chris. This has to be the most vulnerable I’ve e–” She was quiet a moment “he’s ever been.”

“Yeah, I’d sure fucking say so,” Chris huffed staring right along with her. “Wonder what he’d say if he knew we were here.”

“Hell only knows.” Natalia said in that same shaking voice, “if he even recognized either of us.”

It was that shaking tone in her voice that made him reach out to her. Uncrossing his arms, and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Wonder if we’ve changed a lot, or not at all.”

Natalia stiffened…only to relax a moment later with a soft sigh of breath “I do wonder.”

She leaned on the vat, watching the cells bob up and down within the artificial womb. “We…” she started slowly “were always trying to escape what Spencer shaped us into. To become something our own, other than his ‘favored experiments’, you know?”

Her brow furrowed, and he could see in the dim light the trail of tears down her face “With enough power, you could break even the reinforced and gilded collars of Umbrella. That’s what he believed.”

Somehow hearing that was like a lance through Chris’ chest. Even if it was something he should have known, he couldn’t connect the pieces in his mind. Between the captain of STARS, and the genocidal monster who died screaming. He was sure that Jill wouldn’t have any time believing it. Where was the Wesker that everyone besides him seemed to see?

“He always made it sound like he loved what Umbrella did to him,” Chris said hoarsely. “Like it made him better than everyone else.”

“It made him better than me.” Natalia…Alex said with old bitterness, “as my body rotted and festered, he adapted quite admirably until the Uroboros.”

Her fingers trailed down the tank “…but I don’t think he really felt that way. Perhaps he did…after all, we were molded to use such things as a defense. Superiority instead of weakness, ‘it’s us and them’.” She laughed bitterly, and waved her hand “There is an infinite amount of hope in the universe … but not for us….”

She looked over at Chris with a wan smile “Kafka again…a quote I thought about most every day on that damned island.”

“I feel that,” Chris admitted, turning the quotation over in his mind. “Hope always feels out of reach for me. Ever since…”

He found himself trailing off, not knowing what to say.

“Ever since you killed my brother?” Natalia said in a quiet voice.

Chris felt the air rush out of him like he had been struck. his hand pulled back, pressing to his chest as if he had been wounded.

“Maybe even before that,” he breathed. “After he betrayed us, I felt like I’d do anything to understand why. When he died– when I killed him– I felt like I would never know.”

She laughed ruefully “well. Looks like you’ll be getting another chance to ask him.” her eyes fell downcast “…I have my own questions that need answering, I suppose.”

Chris’ gaze, meanwhile, was drawn up to the little clump of cells in the tank again. Already bigger than yesterday

“Like what?” he asked.

“Why he didn’t come for m–” her lips twitched into a frown, and finally she raised her chin. “–for me. Alex…when he started his whole foolish plan with that accursed virus. Why he hardly sent me a letter.”

“Sounds like we both want the same answers.” Chris could hear the bitterness thick in his own voice.

Natalia tucked her hair over her ear as she finally turned away from the cells to look at him “…sounds like we have more in common than you’d like to admit, Mr. Redfield.”

“Sure. Both of us are still here when we should have been long gone.”

She closed her eyes. “Should have been, but refuse to be.” she looked into the tube with a tired frown.

“I loved my brother. As much as I love my sister and father.”

Chris let out a long breath, and fished for his cigarettes. “I can tell,” he says, pulling out a cigarette. “I’m still trying to hate him.”

Her eyes flicked to the side…and she conspiratorially held out her hand for one. Natalia Burton never smoked…as much as Chris had distantly been aware.

“Trying, hm?”

Chris hesitated a moment, and then handed her a cigarette.

“Yeah. Trying.”

He sighed. “We shouldn’t smoke in the lab, right doctor? Let’s go outside.”

She took one last lingering glance at the tube, before she nodded and offered her hand. “After you, Mr. Redfield.”

He took her hand, and they walked out together.