-1

Chapter Dedication: To Bunnyzilla, because you're my best bud and I luff joo! You lot can thank her for Steve being here.

--

Steve stared down at the immobile body of Christopher Redfield, half tempted to peel back an eyelid to see if the guy would wake up and spear Wesker again. Said blonde man had healed fine, but he'd made Steve clean up the blood, because neither BOW could be bother catching all the Hunters and putting them in their cages just to ensure the maid wouldn't be killed the moment she stepped into the living quarters.

Just as he raises a hand to lift the eyelid, it's slapped away by the sleeping man himself. Steve frowns and tries it again. Once more it's slapped away. The third time, the arm is grabbed and Steve is thrown to the other side of the room, landing on top of another hospital bed.

"Whoa…"

"Fuck off, 'm sleepin'."

"Well, evidently he remembers how to talk, or rather, curse."

Steve looks up and sees Wesker leaning over the bed on which Chris is now burrowing into, trying to sleep once more.

"Was he not supposed to?"

"Well, if he had been kept in the stasis tank for another four years -" here Wesker shoots Steve a look, reminding the teen of his colossal mistake - "then he would have remembered nothing and I wouldn't have to listen to him. But, as it is, he's unlikely to have any memories left by now, and the virus should be contained within him safely to an extent." Wesker pauses, removing his shades, eyes narrowed. "However, he mutated yesterday, and that should not have occurred…If I lose my specimen because of your folly, Mr. Burnside I will not hesitate in exacting just punishment."

Steve stares at him, horrified. "Since when did you go back to last name basis?!"

"Since yesterday. You're going to have to earn my trust again. Good luck." A small smirk, and then Wesker was back to studying Chris's sleeping form.

"…I hate you."

"You can start by waking him up." Wesker walks away from the bed and to the other side of the room. "I'll be right here."

"Pussy." Steve mutters, getting up and stretching out his muscles. "You just don't want to get skewered again. Gotta admit, Wesker-kebabs are fun."

Wesker ignores the comment and watches carefully, mentally ready to take notes.

Steve stands by the bed. He hesitates then goes back to the bed he landed on, grabbing a pillow. Shooting a wink at Wesker, he stands a little way away from Chris's sleeping form and tosses the pillow.

With a ripping noise, it's torn through while it flies towards Chris, torn by the tentacle appendage once again protruding from the man's stomach.

"Uh…Wesker…" Steve turns to seek help from the blonde.

"I saw, I saw. Try doing it non-violently." he says as the thing retreats back into the toned stomach.

"Do I-"

"Do it Steve."

The teen sighs, missing that Wesker had used his first name. He creeps to the bedside, clears his throat and yells.

"WAKE UP!!"

The once sleeping Chris yells out in shock and swings his arms wildly, trying to ward off the attacking noise. His vibrant eyes gaze about, and Wesker frowns as he notices the change in them. From the deep blue, they have turned a mixture of Wesker's own gold and red, and Steve's green and silver. Remarkable… Wesker smiles. The combination of the viruses have caused two changes so far, but what else? Has he become insane? Will he even be able to use a gun anymore?

"Who are you people?" Chris blinked at Steve, and then at Wesker, wondering why he suddenly feels the rather random urge to either tear the Blonde's eyes out or rip out his small intestine and garrotte the man with it.

"I'm Steve." He gives a little wave. The confused brunette returns the wave.

"Hi Steve…"

"And that guy -" here Steve turns and points at Wesker in the corner, the shade perched precariously on top of the blonde gelled hair, "Is called Dickwad."

"Hi Dick-"

"Don't finish that sentence." Wesker barks at Chris. "My name is Wesker."

"Why do I have an urge to stab your face? Or to bite off your ears?"

"Wow…I think he hates you Wezzy." Steve grins.

Wesker frowns. He hadn't been anticipating this. If the man could still remember his feelings towards others, then the moment he saw Valentine, his hard work could be ruined. The memories could return…Not good. "Tell me, do you remember your name?"

"Of course I do. It's…" Chris pauses, searching his memory. How can I not know my own name?! "Uh…"

"Didn't think so. Your name is -"

"Retard!"

"No it's not, if you don't stay quiet Steve, I may be forced to shoot you." Wesker turns his attention back to the confused brunette. "Your name is Chris."

"Chris…" It sounds right…Must be my name. Chris smiles. "It feels like it's my name."

"That's because it is, retard." Steve snorts.

"Is that meant to be an insult?" Chris inquires. "If so, it was a terribly bad one. Here's one. Go screw your mother, Ginger."

Steve stares at Chris like he's insane. "You did not just say that to me."

"I think I just did."

"Wesker, did you -"

"I heard Steve, stay calm. Breathe. And leave the room." Wesker slips the shades down onto his eyes, not interested in how Redfield is still capable of making everyone around him angry.

Steve grumbles to himself and stomps past Wesker, muttering darkly, leaving Chris and Wesker alone.

"Why can't I remember anything Wesker?"

"You'll get your memory back." the blonde man lies easily, the words flowing naturally as his voice remains cool and distant.

"How? In bits? Or what?"

"I won't know. You'll just have to see. Now, I presume you would like to be doing something other than wondering things about yourself. Come with me, we'll see if you can remember how to shoot a gun."

"What's a gun?"

"…This is going to take a lot of work…"

--

So far so good. He hasn't exhibited the urge to kill any human's we've passed, which is more than Steve did at first. Can't believe he tried to eat someone. Don't think the woman ever got over that. I think I had to remove her…My memory fails me today. Joy.

Wesker pushes open the door to the shooting range. The various lab techs and other such people had scrambled to remove themselves from Wesker and Chris's path on their way up. No one wanted to get on his bad side, considering all the rumours flying about that he let Steve eat unruly workers. Not true, of course, but fear always made people willing to work just that little harder…

Chris walks in behind him, frowning. He'd smiled at everyone on the way past but hadn't gotten one happy look in return. The place, he realised, and the people, stunk of fear and something he couldn't describe. Maybe I should ask Wesker? He seems to know his way about the place quite well. Maybe he lives here.

Inside, the lights flare on automatically, lighting up the white-walled room. Its long and thin, and generally large, and at the furthest end there's several dozen targets set up in various shapes of BOW's and human's alike.

Against one wall, a counter juts out, and a storage room behind conceals all the weaponry used within this training area.

"Lets start off easy." Wesker suggests, leaving Chris standing at the desk while he enters the storage room, coming back with a black angular thing which somehow looked familiar to Chris.

"This is a gun, Chris." Wesker says slowly, as if speaking to a retarded child, setting it down on the counter top. "Do you know what make of gun it is?"

Chris leans over the counter, gazing at it. "It's…it's a fully customized Samurai Edge, only members of the Special Tactics And Rescue Squad have them, this one belonged to…"He stops, his memory suddenly cutting out on him. I remembered something! But why can't I remember who it belonged to? And what the heck is the Special Tactics And Rescue Squad, and why do I know what gun they used?

Wesker smiles slightly. He's remembering already. But it seems only in spurts. He doesn't remember me yet. I'm not sure if that's good or bad, considering…for now, lets see if he's retained the skills which earned him a place in my team in the first place…"Correct. Pick up the gun. Load it." He sets down a full clip beside the gun and waits.

Chris picks it up, lifts the gun, and loads it in one smooth motion, the gun feeling slightly familiar in his hand, and yet it's a wholly experience at the same time. The grip feels rough, the trigger smooth, the weight light and yet somehow he remembered it being heavier last time he held it -

- flames licking up the walls, beams crashing down around them as the labs blew under them, a woman screaming his name as he turns and fires at an unholy beast of decay and rot-

He gasps and clutches the gun tightly, one hand grabbing at the counter, cold to the touch. Wesker peers at him over the top of the glasses and its now Chris sees what his eyes look like. A fiery red and gold combination, almost designed to strike fear into the hearts of the weak, but Chris sees only normal eyes. Somehow, they seem natural to him, and he suddenly wonders if his own are like that. For that matter what do I look like?

"Chris?" Wesker's voice drags him back to the present.

"I…I'm fine…this gun…it's mine…isn't it?"

Wesker nods. "Indeed it is Chris, you remembered."

"I remember something else too…I was in…it was dark, and there was smoke, and fire, and there was a woman, she called for me, and I shot something…" Chris looks down at the floor. "I was scared of something…and I don't know what."

Wesker nods, realising Chris is reliving recent memories of the lab explosion, moments before he himself had caught up with the weak human that Chris had been. "Your memory seems to be coming in small sections. They seem to be influenced by what your doing at the time. This is all familiar to you because you've done it before. Therefore you will likely trigger memories of doing such exercises."

"Did you know me before?" Chris asks suddenly. "You seems to know more about me than I do…which isn't a lot. I don't even know what I look like right now…"

"You don't? I'll have to show you to a mirror later then. Right now, I want you to take the gun and shoot the targets."

"Which ones?"

Wesker smirks. "Which ever ones you feel deserve it."

Chris nods, "Yes sir." and makes his way to the edge of the range. Behind the desk, Wesker flips a switch and the targets shudder into motion.

Within moments, Chris runs empty and Wesker can't help but shake his head when he sees the brunettes hand darting down to where there had once been an ammo pouch filled with clips.

"Tell me Chris, why did you shoot everything that wasn't human?"

"It felt like the right choice Wesker." Chris turns his mismatched eyes to Wesker's still form. "I felt like I was protecting something important by killing them."

Wesker gazes at him impassively, his expression still as stone, revealing nothing about his thoughts.

"Wesker…who am I?"