Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil. If I did, Wesker would rule the world with Chris as his sex slave. But that's only because I've been watching too much Spartacus lately. Yess.

Author's Note: Here is a commission written for Decapitated Panda that took far too long for me to finish of which I'm turning into a series! Hope you all enjoy! Every Saturday, a new chapter will be released and this will be quite a long story with possibly a sequel if you guys want one.

Chapter 1

All Truth Is Simple, Is That Not Doubly A Lie?

-Unknown

Chris nudged open the front door of his apartment and stumbled inside. Jill's grip on his upper arm hardened and she sighed as she threw her hand against the wall and hit the light switch. They had just entered Chris' flat which was a simple studio. Chris's bed was beside the brown couch that sat directly in front of them. His bed was unmade and the blankets were tossed around as if barely used. The kitchen was to the left with a pile of dirty dishes in the sink and a mix of clean and dirty pots piled on the stove. To the right was a door that led to the bathroom and that was Chris' flat.

The floor was littered with clothing both clean and dirty and Jill secretly wished she could see the brown carpet she knew hid beneath it all. A desk was pressed against the wall beside Chris' bed and Jill sighed when she saw the shirt covered his open laptop. The apartment lacked any personal belongings; no pictures of family or friends. It was just a place for him to sleep, eat, and wash himself. It wasn't home.

"Come on, Chris," Jill sighed as she led him to his bed.

"S'all my fault, y'know," he muttered in a slur.

"You're drunk, Chris. You aren't making any sense," Jill stated almost robotically before letting him go on his bed. He fell and accepted the position he fell in choosing not to move when Jill sat in the broken computer chair beside him. "What have you done to yourself, Chris?"

"He'd be so disappointed," Chris ranted. "He'd hate me…. Like the day he found me."

"Who are you ranting about, Chris?" Jill asked carefully.

"Piers."

Jill was taken aback by the confession.

Chris hadn't spoken of Piers in months. The brunet had barely spoken of that day to anyone, including Jill, and suddenly he wouldn't shut up about it. There were tears in his eyes as his head turned into his pillow and he slammed his fist against the cushion drunkenly. There was only so much he could do and crying had never been an option. He watched Piers sacrifice himself and Chris hadn't cried. The BSAA held a funeral of sorts, and still he did not cry.

"He didn't—He didn't deserve it. I did, Jill! I should have died!" Most of Chris' words were slurred and muffled due to the pillow over his mouth but Jill heard enough.

"He died because he was protecting his captain. He died and saved the world, Chris. Piers Nivans is a hero and you need to see that he saw potential in you and you are letting it go to waste. I love you, Chris, but you are killing yourself this way. You're right, Piers wouldn't be happy, but he would keep trying because Piers cared for you and still does wherever he is."

Chris tilted his head from the pillow and pushed himself into a sitting position. He closed his eyes and stabilized himself. His fists opened and closed and he got a handful of pillowcase. He opened his eyes and met Jill's confused but stern face and with a grunt, spoke.

"He's dead, Jill. He doesn't do anything anymore."

Waking up, Chris passively wondered when he had fallen asleep. He kept his eyes shut out of fear that light would give him the searing headache he fully expected to erupt the moment his eyelids rose. He couldn't hear shuffling of any sort and assumed Jill left the previous night. He groaned as he was suddenly aware of the muscles aching in their joints and he wondered if he took a fall that he couldn't remember.

With a deep sigh, he opened one eye and his blurry morning gaze fell on the ceiling. Another eye opened and he grunted in appreciation for the lack of forehead splitting pain. His head fell to the left and his eyes found something he truly didn't expect—a closet.

He didn't have a closet; especially not one with two sliding doors.

No, he had a dresser.

Chris sat up and his bare feet touched soft carpet; he didn't have soft carpet either. He had gross, brown carpet that hadn't been changed since the late seventies. And he was pretty sure he fell asleep with shoes on.

Looking around, his eyes found an old Windows desktop on a desk in the corner beside the closet, a dresser beside his bed, and a thick brown television atop a second dresser. This wasn't his flat but it certainly wasn't Jill's either.

He stood and found himself lacking the usual dizziness he felt from drinking but instead felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. He had been here before in this very spot; he remembered the bed, the closet, and the television but where was he? Why was everything so familiar?

He grunted under his breath and took long striding steps towards the door before opening, almost hesitantly. He poked his head out and looked down the hall where he could see a bathroom and the split between the living room and the kitchen.

"H-Hello?" he called before sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

No response.

He slipped out of the door and took two steps into the hallway, his head peeking into the dark bathroom before continuing. He reached the end of the hall and straightened in his spot as his eyes fell on the living room that he suddenly remembered.

A brown suede couch was pressed against the opposite wall. Two windows with closed vertical blinds and the front door also shared the wall. Across from the couch was the big screen television—the television Claire bought him when he told her STARS approved his resume and he would be an official member. A shelf sat just above the television, about a foot from the ceiling, that held pictures; There was one of Claire's high school graduation, one of he and Jill, and the last was the STARS team taken three months after the beginning of STARS.

This was his living room.

This was his living room from STARS.

Chris ignored the remainder of the house and quickly rushed into the dining room. The table pressed against the wall held fruit and tossed mail from the day before. A puppy calendar, hung by Claire, was nailed to the wall above the table.

March.

Chris pulled the calendar from the wall, ripping the top and leaving it pinned to the wall, and looked at the front of the calendar.

1997.

It had been a year since STARS was created.

But how?

A heavy knocking startled him and he was on his way to his front door. Without thinking, he opened his door and found Albert Wesker standing at his door. Albert was wearing his STARS uniform, what he usually wore in office, with his blonde hair gelled back and sunglasses in place over his nose. His thin lips twisted into a smirk as he lowered his sunglasses to the tip of his nose and gave Chris a once over with his dull grey eyes.

"Wesker," Chris growled.

"Mr. Redfield," the blonde stated and his eyes traveled south yet again.

Chris followed his eyes and found himself in his boxers—only his boxers.

"Oh."

"I suppose you aren't ready, then?" the blond asked.

"Ready for what?" Chris asked before shifting uncomfortably in his spot.

"Work, Christopher. You requested a ride yesterday, did you not?"

Chris nodded slowly, eyeing the blond carefully. Even in his tired state, a plan was hatching within his mind. Albert Wesker didn't know Chris was fully aware of his plan and Chris was going to stop him before anything occurred. Chris placed a cold smile on his lips and stepped aside, opening his door wider.

"Sorry, Captain, I had a hard night. I'll run and get ready. Come on in."

"Very well, I suppose," the blond muttered and slipped inside.

Chris closed the door and turned on his heel.

"I'll be back. Again, sorry," Chris stated and took large strides back to his room.

Chris shut his door and pressed his back against the wall, chills running up his back as his warm back collided with the cold door. He took deep breaths and began looking around, finding his gun where it usually was—his desk. He set the handgun down and quickly dressed into his work clothes while he mused over his many options.

Simply killing Wesker now would raise questions in places where questions truly shouldn't be raised. His entire team would see him as the traitor and he would become a fugitive which was not an option.

He needed proof of Umbrella's involvement in the mansion far up in the mountains and he could go up that weekend to check it out, possibly with Jill. Until then, he would need to play STARS Chris Redfield.

A thought loomed in the back of his mind that scared him far more than he would ever let on. What if every little detail in his life that he currently had, was a dream? An incredibly vivid, drunken dream? He was sure his current situation wasn't a dream but that didn't mean his anxiety didn't fuck with him.

Chris tucked his gun into his holster and crossed from his bedroom to the bathroom where he quickly splashed water over his short hair. He eyed himself in the mirror, nodded to himself, and slipped out of the bathroom to find Albert Wesker standing stock still in the place Chris had left him.

"You're not the greatest guest, are you?" Chris muttered, a hand hovering on his hip beside the gun available to him.

"I suppose not."

Driving to the police department, Chris felt far too tense. The amount of knowledge he held with Albert completely unbeknownst to it made the brunet smile in dark ways. The blond would not win this time. Chris didn't care how he managed to go back in time or whatever was going on but he was going to fix things.

"What did your night consist of?" Albert asked, most likely to fight the awkward air.

"Dreams about betrayal, friends dying, STARS crumbling—"

"Seems you have some subconscious issues to deal with."

"My issues aren't subconscious. I am aware of my issues and plan on dealing with them accordingly."

"It seems you have it planned out," Albert stated.

"Yeah, you have to when you're dealing with things as tricky as dreams," Chris muttered and shifted his grip on the top of his handgun.

Albert hummed in response and pulled into the station. He parked in the space with his name on it and turned off the car. He unbuckled his seatbelt before saying, "Christopher, before we go—"

"Yeah?" Chris asked, halfway out of the door.

Albert kept an eye on him and Chris sighed, pulling himself back into the car and shutting the door.

"Yes, Captain?"

"I fear your dream has caused high hostility towards me. I'm going to have to ask you to stop."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Captain," Chris muttered, eyes forward and fingers dancing on his hip.

"Your hand hasn't left your gun, you refuse to look at me, and you sound as if it pains you to call me by my title. But please, insist you don't know what I speak of," Albert stated.

Chris twisted his head to look at Albert and he felt a rush of disgust and anger. He looked away and took a deep breath. The blond made an understanding noise and shook his head.

"Is this going to be a problem, Christopher?"

"No, I'll be fine. Just give me a few hours. The dream was just…. Really vivid."

"Most nightmares are," Albert sighed. "Very well. However, today is one of our hand-to-hand exercises. I hope you are able to look beyond the dream by then."

"I will, Captain," Chris whispered, his eyes in his lap.

"It was just a dream, Chris," the blond said hopefully and patted Chris on the shoulder, making the brunet jump and grab for his gun before realizing the blond wasn't trying to strangle him. "It was a dream, Christopher. We have work to do."

"Fine."

The anger coursing through Chris was fluid and the brunet was momentarily deaf as the blood pounding in his ears made him lightheaded. He had to look at this from a Captain point of view—the captain Piers wanted him to be. He had to be levelheaded and not ruin anything.

This could prevent everything.

Walking up to the old police department caused a deep root of guilt rush through him. The last time he had been here, he had just lost over half of his closest friends and was leaving Raccoon City behind. Soon after, the town was gone. And now he found himself walking into the building beside the man behind it all.

He was beginning to feel sick again as a strong sense of nostalgia washed over him.

He led the way through the station until they reached the STARS Alpha office. The hallways felt so familiar yet he forgot where most of the doors led. He even stuck his head into some of the open ones to find remarkably recognizable rooms. The blond simply allowed Chris to do it, his eyebrow raised with his hands locked behind his back as they walked and sometimes stopped.

Stepping into the office, however, he knew exactly what was going to happen but not before it actually happened, of course.

Jill slapped him.

Chris reeled as the mix of déjà vu and pain made him suddenly very lightheaded. A flash of memories suddenly became apparent to him as, word for word, he could recall what Jill was going to say next as she said it.

"You bastard!" She snapped.

Jill Valentine had taken a really, really long time to warm up to Chris. It was far from an instant connection after this incident and Chris constantly took verbal beatings from the woman until he saved her on one of their missions. She forgave him after that and they grew close but she joked with him often about it and refused to ever let the male forget what he had done.

By the time Chris recovered from the hit, her arms were crossed and her icy glare had transformed into a guilty face as she glanced at their captain. His cheek stung from impact and a hand covered it delicately as he exchanged glances with Wesker.

"Miss Valentine—"

"No, it's fine," Chris mumbled as he rubbed at his cheek. "I stood her up on a date last night."

"Expressing your anger in the workplace is unprofessional, Miss Valentine. If you wish to do bodily harm to Mr. Redfield, please do it outside," Wesker stated with an appreciative nod. "Also, I would avoid dating within the workplace but I suppose that won't be much of an issue." Wesker paused and smirked at Jill's red cheeks before beginning to walk away. "Our meeting begins at noon. Please be present, angry or not."

Wesker vanished into his office and closed his door, leaving Jill, Chris, and the remainder of Alpha in the office. Coworkers among the office continued about their business, typing away at desktops around the room. It was dead silent besides the clicking of keyboard keys one after another as reports, or random words in cases like Brad who enjoyed drama.

"How dare you?" Jill hissed.

"I was a little preoccupied last night," Chris said lamely though he truly could not remember what the event had been that forced him to completely forget the date.

"Doing what? What was so important that you left me sitting in a restaurant in a skin tight dress for two hours with an underwire digging so deep into my underarm, I bled? This isn't counting the two hours I took trying to get ready for your sorry ass—" Oh yes, Chris remembered this.

"So what do you want me to do, Jill? I'm sorry but maybe W—Captain Wesker is right. Dating in the workplace just isn't a good idea," Chris stated.

"Oh no, I don't mind dating in the workplace. I just won't be dating you and considering I'm the only woman on STARS… well… have fun with Barry," she sneered before storming towards her desk and away from Chris.

"Hey, I'm married! Don't bring me into this," Barry chimed from his desk.

Chris looked from Barry, who exchanged glances with him, to Jill who was physically shaking with anger. He felt guilty but there was far too much going on. He didn't understand what could be possibly going on but he knew it wasn't good. He didn't remember quite a lot of things from STARS, what happened next, being one of them. He wanted to do exactly what he had done before, he realized changing anything could put him into some trouble and it didn't help that he thought of himself as a different person than he was in this moment.

Chris sunk into his chair and sighed. This was bad.

The one person he trusted to tell exactly what was going on currently hated him and his mortal enemy was his superior.

Now, he just had to remember what he had done exactly to get Jill un-mad at him which would be far more difficult than it should be considering she was his best friend but he was a guy, after all.

"Chris?" it was Barry—right, they were actually pretty close during this time. Chris had long lost touch with him after the Raccoon City incident but Chris was sure he was doing well with his family, he just wanted to stay away from the B.O.W business and Chris respected that.

"Yeah, Barry?"

"Are you okay? You seem really out of it and you never would have passed a date with Jill, busy or not. Is something going on? Is Claire okay?"

Claire! Right, she was in college. Chris could always talk to her.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Barry." Chris said with a quick smile. "Claire's fine but I do miss her. I just think I shouldn't be dating right now. I have a lot to build with my career and if something was to happen to me—" Chris trailed off with a sigh. "I think I'm going to fly Claire down and spend some time with her for the holidays."

"I think that would be a good idea but you know how the captain is about holidays—just be careful with how you go about it."

"Thanks, Barry. How's your wife?"

Chris knew the answer to this.

"She's good, worries about me a lot, though," Barry sighed and crossed his arms.

"At least you know she cares," Chris said with a shrug and a laugh.

"Yeah but sometimes it makes me want to spend a little extra time at the shooting range, you know?"

Chris really didn't know.

"Yeah, I know," Chris faked a laugh.

"Redfield!"

Chris cringed—Albert Wesker hadn't said his name like that since, well, now.

"He doesn't seem to be in the best of moods," Barry muttered. "G'luck."

Chris hummed in response and stood. He made his way to the blonde's office and peaked inside—just like he remembered it, empty of all personal items, dark, and piles of paper stacked in various spots across the desk. Wesker sat behind the desk, sunglasses in place and a stack of papers in front of him.

"Yes, Captain?" The word felt dirty to his mouth.

This man was the reason ninety percent of his co-workers will die in less than two years. This man is planning to completely betray them. This man who will also die in less than two years before being reborn into just another one of the B.O.W monsters.

Albert Wesker.

"You didn't submit the required paperwork from the Harker drug bust."

It was such a simple request from a boss but from Albert Wesker it felt like a giant, stabbing lie that was making its way through Chris' soul. How exactly was he supposed to just play it cool?

"Uh yeah, I should have it in my desk."

He sure as hell hoped he did because he definitely didn't remember a damn thing about that drug bust.

"Submit it immediately, please," Wesker commanded politely.

Chris nodded and was about to turn around and leave but he stopped—Wesker saw this.

"Something else, Redfield?"

"Do you know Sherry Birkin?" Chris asked carefully.

Wesker froze and Chris realized just how stupid the question was—Sherry Birkin was William Birkin's daughter and William Birkin was the one who created the G-virus and worked with Umbrella and Wesker himself. In reality, Chris just wanted to make sure Sherry was okay but he supposed that was Leon's jurisdiction, not his.

"Nevermind," Chris said with a shrug. "I shouldn't have asked."

"How do you know Miss Birkin?"

"I don't—" Oh god, he needed a lie. "My sister knows her and apparently she talked about you. She babysat her when she was younger." Does that lie work? Chris quickly did the math in his head—yeah, Sherry was nine, that could work.

"I don't recall her parents hiring a babysitter…" Wesker trailed off carefully.

The bastard was trying to catch Chris in his lie.

"Well, they did. Claire said they work a lot and needed someone to watch her but apparently she knew you. I was just curious," Chris said with a shrug. "I'll go get that paper."

Leon and Claire would handle it when it came time, for now, Chris had an entire team to worry about.

So I'm not even completely finished with this story as I should be but hopefully I won't fall behind. If I do, I'll just break it up into more parts than I have already broken it up into. Currently, it will be a two part story. A third may be added. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed it and whether I get any reviews on this or not, another will be up next Saturday!

-Fatal Yaoi