The span of time had no limits. It almost seemed as if I was permanently in a dream, living life as I used to be before the Mansion Incident. Back then, I remember I had quite the crush on our Captain. To be honest, it was born out of admiration of his strengths and his leadership over the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team, yet I was convinced that he too had a side to him that made him human. The plus was definitely his looks and intelligence, therefore making him unachievable. I guess wanting what you can't have is human enough, but ambition…that is a whole other side of the coin.

Imagine the severe disappointment when he betrayed us. Not just to Chris, but to me as well. Everyone we knew and worked closely with…everyone but Chris, Barry and myself, dead. How could he violate that trust? How could he break that duty code we held in such high esteem? My mind seemed to deviate from that course reality took that very day, instead taking me to the universe of What If? Would Chris and I be together now? Would we have children, or would we have found different people? Would Wesker be known informally as "Al" to the rest of the team?

Or would I have figured "Al" out and dated him instead? Possibilities seemed endless, and in my dreams I explored everything put before me. Why did I investigate the alternate path of being with my dear Captain more than the others?

We could have eloped or entreated a wedding planner to give us a big wedding. What would have been the point? I argued. We don't know many people. Eloped it was. Would we have had kids? They would be pushed to be better every step of the way. You know what? How was that what I wanted? I wanted a family, and a partner that would be supportive of me. Chris would have measured up to that role readily. Why was I thinking about Al—I mean, Wesker?

The back of my eyes began to ache first, then the rest of my body followed suit. Surely pain would be the only thing to really snap me from the alternate universes that were my dreams. My hands began to tingle, as if they had been asleep for a while.

Then it all came back to me like a tidal wave. "Subject is now conscious." A faint voice stated from what seemed a distance. The voice almost sounded…muffled? "Now reaching state of awareness."

"Good." I knew his voice. My fingers twitched. I could almost feel that smirk. "I know you can hear me, Valentine." I knew he knew. Might as well look around, I thought. My eyes snapped open, and I gasped.

Or I tried to gasp. How…was this possible? I seemed to be floating in a tank full of…water? My hands made a grab for the sides, only to realize that I was naked. Well, I thought, no use being modest. Wasn't that supposed to be the very last thing I should be concerned about? Wait…what—my hair! What the FUCK did he DO to my HAIR!? I turned to glare directly at Wesker, who was obviously amused. Ohhhhh, yes. He knew. He fucking knew what I was glaring about.

With one swift hand gesture, the tank began to drain. Gravity was a bitch; it seemed that I didn't know how to stand anymore. My legs wobbled in response, betraying my body weight and leaving me to collapse to the bottom of the tank while my arms worked to pull myself upright. Of course, they failed me too, leaving me to my cruel fate. Soon, the tank's door opened, causing me to cross my arms over my chest against the chill of the air against my bare skin.

Wesker waited, watching me before stepping close and offering a hand. I could only stare, shocked at the help he was offering, wondering what I had to do in return for the "generous" gesture. After a moment, he sighed. "Anytime, Valentine. I haven't got all day."

I took his hand. He pulled me up. I wobbled, and he prevented me from face-planting into the metal flooring. He led the way in silence for a while, until I had the idea to ask where we were going. "The lab." He answered, simply. Of course, this was Wesker I was talking to here. After a pause, he explained. "Tests need to be run." To be honest, I was too tired and incapable to argue with him. To think, I would have loved this chance to kill him a time not too long ago. Now that it had come I was too goddamned tired to do anything about it. I shivered, earning a quirked eyebrow. "Caught a chill, Valentine?" My legs betrayed me once more as we stumbled along, and at that point he must have had enough with helping a cripple. After picking me up, I finally answered.

"You're not the naked one." I replied, not missing a beat. He smirked, a door sliding open to reveal a pristine, white-walled lab with a single metal table in the middle of the room. Air conditioner, cold metal table, naked…wet. Incapable of even standing by myself…world's greatest enemy in the same room yet I could do NOTHING about it. Today was just not my day.

Oh. AND I was a blonde.

He carried me over to the table before grabbing the necessary equipment from a nearby counter, taking syringes from one drawer and gloves from another. Of course, my eyes wandered as I tried not to shiver, my muscles complaining bitterly at not being used for…however long it was. How long had it been since the fall?

An intercom from the wall nearest the door buzzed to life. "ALBERT!" That, by far, was the most ANNOYING voice I've ever heard. The man being yelled at sighed, a hand cradling his forehead as he answered back. Ah…so we both had the same knee-jerk reaction after all. Another something in common.

Stop that. I scolded myself. Do NOT find common ground with an enemy that will not give up ambition. You will go down with him.

"Miss Gionne." He answered, the edge barely evident in his polite reply.

"You PROMISED you would call me when she was awake!" Why…why must his partner be so…ANNOYING? What a nag. Luckily, Wesker kept an even tone with her.

"Time was not on our side, Excella." He said. "I must get back to work. Excuse me."

"Of course, Albert! I'll be right dow—" He got up, pressing the button on the horrible device ending the torture by voice session. One look at me made him sigh once more, putting on some gloves and standing before me to begin the assessment.

"Here I thought you were trying to torture me." I ventured. He raised a brow, but I could almost feel the amusement. "Out of all the minions we've come against, she, by far is the most annoying."

"So glad I have your approval, Jill." He replied, the tiniest of smirks decorating his lips. "Perhaps having her wake you will prove more of a punishment." I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh outright at the idea.

"That won't last for long." I said. "Hope you are the beneficiary of her ample life insurance." He looked up from getting a syringe ready, giving me the 'don't-breach-that-line-but-that-was-something-I-a lmost-have-locked-down' look, before turning back to me, grabbing my left arm and wiping a prominent vein with antiseptic. "Why the fuck am I blonde, Wesker?" I couldn't help it anymore—I had to ask. Before he could reply, in burst an extremely busty brunette clad in nothing but a skimpy dress, heels and a bun atop her head. She glared daggers at me—must have been because I was naked—before walking over to Wesker. When she began to reach over and touch his shoulders from behind, both Wesker and I tensed. That didn't feel too good for me since I had a needle in my arm and Wesker was the one holding it.

"Hello, Alllllbert." She purred. What a fucking attention whore. Jesus…one of those. Angry, red eyes even behind those shades glowed as he looked up at me, then to the hand on his left shoulder. Luckily for the tramp, she removed her seductive little hands before he had the actual chance to murder her.

"I'm in the middle of delicate tests." He said. His temper wanted SO BADLY to be let free, but he somehow managed to keep a cap on it. "You can see the subject when she's more capable." His tone was filled with ice, leaving no room for argument.

Of course, that meant she sat in another chair and ignored all warning signs rolling off my enemy. "I'll just watch from here, darrrrling." That purr was quickly getting annoying. Wesker looked away and back to the task at hand, as did I. During the distraction, never did his hands shake or tremble in attempts to calm his rage; his hands remained carefully still during the whole fiasco. Of course, I didn't have to tell him my little observation in her presence. In fact, I refused to speak as much, realizing that I shouldn't be speaking so candidly with my enemy. He's killed millions. I had to remind myself that this man had been responsible for the death of my friends and comrades, unleashed such a plague into our world, and sought to destroy Chris and the rest of the world in order to "save" it. Why was I joking around with this man? Perhaps relief from death and mortal wounds seemed to trigger this reaction. Perhaps being saved by him also made me react this way?

"Learning how to walk takes priority in order to continue tests." Wesker said while removing his gloves and disposing them in a white trash can next to the table. Excella smiled smugly, as if she knew something I did not. Truthfully, I knew Wesker had to divulge some information to keep her and her money interested in such an investment, which meant she did know something I did not. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't be the worried one…but all things considered, worrying was my burden to bear alone. The only thing I could do was keep that concern at the back of my mind, forcing myself to forget about it in their presence. No hiding was really involved—only forgetting.

"I'll show her to her room!" God. No. Please…no. What was that I was saying about forgetting whatever I was worried about? I forgot about that part the moment I cast a worried glance Wesker's way, almost a plea of 'oh-god-please-don't-leave-me-alone-with-this-woma n' filtering from my expression into his brain. The smirk he sent back sent me over, and my hands began to tremble from a sudden adrenaline rush. He quirked an eyebrow, suddenly not doubting my earlier comment about life insurance and being able to take her down even as a cripple.

"Perhaps later." Wesker said, dismissing the idea with a flick of his hand. "I will see you at the meeting." With that, he opened a cabinet, grabbed what looked to be a lab coat from within, and tossed it at me before the doors closed. "You're welcome." He knew I would never say thank you. Luckily, Excella left the room as I shouldered the coat over myself, and I noticed that I seemed to breathe easier when a) she was gone, and b) I had something to cover up with.

Taking the brief liberty to slide from the table while he was bent over some sort of tattered journal, I supported myself against the table for balance as I attempted to walk. No such luck greeted me as my feet touched the cold floor, my arms shaking as I tried to keep myself upright. Pain shot through my body from toes to fingertips, my head pounding furiously. Grunting against the pain did not help me walk any farther; the ground came up to meet me sooner than I wanted. For a minute, I sat staring at the floor in my failure to do such a simple thing. If I couldn't simply walk, how was I going to help Chris? How was I going to kill the wannabe god in the same room in which I sat?

How was I going to kill my savior?

"That's it then?" His voice startled me from my thoughts, my head whipping around to meet his shaded gaze. He made a tsk tsk tsk sound as he mockingly shook his head. "That's not the Valentine I once trained." My breath caught in my throat at that revelation. He truly did remember the old days. I knew, Chris. I knew he wouldn't forget. My silence couldn't be helped, with the past we once shared a cruel reminder of why I couldn't agree with anything he was doing.

"Why am I alive, Wesker?" I asked, my back to him. I should be dead. His boots clicked from where he was standing over to where I was sitting, and in one swoop I was thrown over his shoulder like a ragdoll. I let out an "ugh" as he did so, the breath almost being knocked from me.

"Why, Jill," He began. "I plan to make Chris suffer." Just like that, the illusion of friendliness was broken. We were not comrades, friends, or lovers. We were not on the same team, and he was my enemy. Chris was looking for me, I knew. Only time would tell if I was findable.

"What did you drug me with?" I asked as I was put onto a bed. Despite the unfamiliar surroundings, I couldn't focus long enough to really pay much attention to details. I caught a view of Wesker's smirk as he stood straight, and from then on I knew I had finally figured it out. The talkative nature I suddenly adopted even against a man I would have done anything to put an end to never once seemed strange until now.

"We're running tests on a new drug." He said, removing his black leather gloves from his coat pocket and wiggling them into place. "Believe me, we've tried every virus on you to see how your body coped with them." He shook his head, that know-it-all smirk still in place. "You will be overjoyed to know that your body is immune to every virus we've ever created."

"What…how?" I asked, my eyelids feeling heavy with every second that passed. "What am I on NOW?"

"Your body somehow got infected with the T-Virus years back." He continued. "You must have gotten a hold of the antidote. Instead of killing the virus, your body built an immunity to it." He paused, looking back to me. "We're testing something else that seems to take quite well to your body. Luckily for us, you are not immune to everything." He leaned in toward me to whisper into my ear, after taking a seat on the side of where I lay propped up on pillows. "You may be invincible to everyone else," He whispered. "but you will never survive me, Valentine." I shuddered in response, but soon glared at the shadow that retreated from my bedside as quickly as he had come. "Do well to remember that. Get some rest." The door clicked shut after him, and for the strangest reason…I fell fast asleep as soon as the last words left his mouth.

(Note) Step one: lack of hostility toward the controller/admin of p30 drug.

Step two: Lack of resistance to "suggestions" from the admin. Everything coming out of their mouth is agreeable, and at this point all suggestion from this person seems plausible. Hell, maybe trying out some of them would be a good idea.

Step three: Self-appreciation at any action following a "suggestion". Good for you! You took their "advice" and you feel smarter for it. Maybe you should do this more often? Of course you will.

Step four: Only after a prolonged time of administration of this drug to a human specimen will this happen—obeying of not only "suggestions", but ORDERS. Cut down a tree? When and where? Which way should I make it fall? What tool should I use? Thank you.

Step five: Euphoria and self-appreciation in doing so will also be shared through an almost telepathic bond carried out by pheromones. By the way, you and your specimen will be extra sensitive with one another. FYI. This Euphoria is earned by carrying out ORDERS, and at times "suggestions". Despite personal values in what you ORDERED the subject to do, Euphoria still overpowers any possible negative emotion that could ruin your victory.