Resident Evil 1. Regret

Authors Notes: This is my first resi fan fic, so please be kind, and dates/times may be slightly inaccurate.. :) Also, I'm not demented, I was just born that way... (Story is told from Chris's perspective) C/J, a little C/L later on… maybe…

I wasn't crazy, at least a year ago. Back then I was sane, and lead an ordinary life. Plain, dull, perhaps uninteresting, but it was life, and I got on with it. Even working with S.T.A.R.S could became tedious as we never really got to do anything, just sit round on our asses all day eating donuts like all good cops do, right? At that point the world seemed too slow, too comfortable, too sure of what was coming. Like me. I thought I could tell if anything was coming. I fell into that too safe security that lulls you into sleep and wakes you when you're not ready. Despite myself, I wasn't ready, and even after it all, I don't think that I'm ready now.

So what happened. To start with, it wasn't even the mansion incident, or Racoon City, it was meeting her. I know what you're thinking, love at first sight and all that crap, red hearts and fluffy bunnies all dancing round my vision whenever I looked at her. It wasn't that extreme, at least not at first, but then I never did believe in love at first sight. She was my security, I've worked that out now. My lock and key and safe all wrapped into one. My shot at a big house, with dogs and kids, and a life of normality. A life with her.

I suppose that's a childish view, to be happy. But I loved her, and for as much as my own pathetic little attempt at making a normal life was worth I wanted to be with her. Who would've thought it. The great Chris Redfield retiring at the age of 25, ready to settle down and live out the rest of his life without the prospect of being able to shoot someone everyday. Before I met her that idea would've seemed terrifying, but now, I would give anything to have that opportunity in front of me again. It sounds so B movie, so daytime TV, but I didn't really realise what I had until I lost it. And I lost so much...

Now we're back to the first point, my loss. This loss, this thing that's missing, this hole in my heart, it didn't just go all at once, instead choosing to slip away bit by bit each and every day from the very day it all started.

The day it started... July 24th 1998. 07/24/98. The numbers forever etched into my mind to mark the date in which my life took a downward spiral.

It started off like any other day; the buzz of the alarm, sunlight filtering through the window, and the warm press of skin as my sleeping lover rolled onto her side, completely oblivious to the outside world. Not knowing that she was mine. It's strange to say that your world is a single person, and I remember as a teenager reading soppy romance poems and wanting to puke at the prospect. How could one person mean so much to someone that you couldn't eat or sleep or live without them? Surely a loss couldn't affect someone so much that they couldn't go on living?...

That was then, and I've changed. I didn't want to change though. I didn't want to have that kind of dependency on another person just to carry on living. It didn't seem right. I thought it would've been an instant thing, a flash that suddenly changes your viewpoint forever. A matter of seconds.

So I prepared myself for it, building up a special barrier specifically designed to stop that flash from ever occurring. The thing was, that's all I was expecting, something that would come and go in a second. Something I could just disregard and be all the better for it. I wasn't expecting anything permanent. Anything _real._

I guess that's what I thought love was. A second of realisation, of clarity, I didn't think it'd be permanent thing. That's what got me, hooked me, all the permanent things, the little things.

Like when she woke up next to me every morning and without fail hit the snooze button for an extra five minutes, or at breakfast when she would start to make one thing and then change her mind, or when she left her clothes all over the bedroom floor, or hid my cigarettes…

I could go on, but the list would eternal, cause it was all those little everyday things that you don't notice, that you don't care about, that become a part of your life too. And when they're gone, it's like a piece of you has been cut away and spat out, thrown to the leeches and never to be seen again. If it's stuff like that you miss, then it's gotta be love. And I love her. I _loved _her. I've gotta keep remembering that…

Anyway, I'm going off on a tangent. Where was I? Ah, July 24th, how I remember that day. How I wish I didn't.


	2. Instinct

Author's Notes; trying to get this thing moving swiftly along so I can got to the later chapters when the better stuff happens…there's also a good reason that I don't mention her name but you'll find that out later…

The day of hell…

Well, actually, I think I'd have preferred hell. At least if I was in hell I would've known that I couldn't sink any further that things couldn't get any worse. But then, in the place that I was, the only way was down.

…But I'm skipping ahead, I haven't set the scene yet. All good stories need a scene, and I can remember mine clearly…

It was warm and dry outside, my shirt sticking to my back as I walked through the doors of the R.P.D, taking in the details of a room that I'd seen everyday. It sounds stupid, but even then I got this feeling that something was wrong, a sharpness to the air, something that just felt slightly out of place. But then, I didn't know what was coming, so I just ignored it. Like I always did. I ignored everything, even the things that mattered…

It was no different when I got to the S.T.A.R.S office. Something was wrong. But still, seeing so many familiar faces doing such familiar things chased away any fear that I had. Knowing that Joseph was still there, cracking blonde jokes by the water cooler, or that Barry was assembling some new gun from the Kendo gun shop made the fear go away.

Mistake number one Redfield… always trust your instincts. Instincts are always right… But by then, any notion of instinct I had left in me was buried deep down, forgotten under months of routine and comfort and security. Another things she's to blame for, making me forget my instincts, although I could never blame _her _for anything. She was there, another reason for my fears to be chased away, right? My very heart and soul bared to the world for all to see. And while my heart was ruling my head my couldn't see. But I guess love does that to you, in one way or another. Blinds you.

Now look. I've gone completely off topic. I'm meant to be painting a picture, the scene, not blabbering on about things that you don't want to hear.

S.T.A.R.S office. Early. Joseph was hanging over the water cooler, bragging to Chickenheart about his latest conquest, some ditzy blonde named Kaci who worked as a part-time waitress at the restaurant downtown. Brad didn't seem the slightest bit interested, just sat there half picking his nose while staring at a coffee stain on the wall. God knows how it got on the wall, I think the place was designed with it in the blueprints.

I miss them too. Not as much as I miss her, but they represented everyday life to me, they were my friends, my closest friends, and life isn't the same without them now. In an entirely _macho_ way you understand…

I remember just sitting at my desk, thumbing through the stack of reports, and inwardly cursing the repairman for not fixing the fan. The S.T.A.R.S office could get hot, sticky, unbearable even in the summer, and the repair-guy hadn't the decency to put us long suffering S.T.A.R.S members out of our misery. The inhumanity of it all! How would I survive a day without air-conditioning? In summer?

Come on. If that doesn't warrant a large audience gasp of terror then I don't what will. It certainly made me shudder when I faced the prospect a year ago. Little things…

Bet the repairman's dead now. Most people are dead who were in the office that day. Joseph, Brad, Ken, Richard… God, even Wesker snuffed it, but that's another story. Even… I forget, she wasn't in the office then, but it didn't mean that she couldn't die.

She was on the shooting range, always was in the morning. Said that as soon as you wake up, your mind is more awake than at any other point in the day. Perfect time to shoot she said, when your aim was best. The fact that she always did it made me feel better. Helped me to get rid of those suspicious feelings I had earlier on. Helped me to persuade myself that my instinct was wrong. If people around you are acting as normal, then life must be normal, and something must be wrong with you, not the world.

I think I even started to believe it. Convinced myself that my instinct was wrong. I was falling for it. Then call came through…

Author's notes; promise it'll get more exciting soon, causein the next chapter they go to the mansion...


	3. Silence

Author's Notes; too many updates… too soon… headache… Anyway, things get better, in a terrible way in this chapter, so hope you enjoy so please R&R soon…

There was nothing out of the ordinary about it to start with. I raised my head for a second when Brad's headset beeped. A common occurrence, especially with the S.T.A.R.S. I don't think I even noticed it, not at the time. I was too immersed in my own life. Too wrapped up in my plans to care about simple thing like a call coming through.

But it wasn't simple, and I should've known that. But no, my head was pushed way too far up my own ass to give a shit what was going on with anything on the outside.

The Bravo's were out you see. Something else that I had gotten used to.

When old Enrico wanted to take his team out, wanted them to get some of the glory, they got the glory, and they used it well. Unlike the Alpha's, the Bravo's still had some semblance of humility, not believing that they were the best, but knowing they weren't the worst. It's why they always went out first. They had some control. Enrico believed in 'assessing' the situation first, attempting to determine if his team were good enough to handle the situation. They usually were, but he always thought it best to check…

In that respect, he was almost as cool as Wesker himself. Almost, cause half of what made Wesker were those shades he wore, and I smashed those some time ago…

Nevertheless, it was pretty standard for them to call. Enrico literally checked out every blip in protocol with HQ, wanting to prove that his team were up there with the Alpha's. Were… it's strange to think of them in the past tense…

As I said, I didn't think anything of it. Brad rushed over to his headset, discretely removing the finger from his nose before tapping on the keys of his computer. He typed quickly, but that was nothing new. He always seemed nervous around the other alpha's, wanting to be part of the group, but restricted by not being able to hold a gun straight or look an enemy in the eyes. And they were pretty crucial if you wanted to be a cop. Brad was only good for one thing; hacking. Which he did very well.

So when he went to his keyboard, and started thumping the keys like his life depended on it, I didn't think that there was anything wrong. I didn't _think, _full stop.

It's when he stopped that made me nervous.

He wasn't much in the way of a soldier, a fighter. He always took the easiest way out. So he did everything on the computer at twice the speed, like he was making up for some flaw in his character that separated him from the rest of us. He would've never stopped tapping the keys. Not normally.

When he stopped this kind of dead silence descended on the room, no one moving for just a second, just because he'd stopped. Then it hit, the noise. Brad must've put the headset on loudspeaker because I could just hear static; the monitors in front of him turning that hazy grey colour you get when the TV goes dead. The static was deafening, and almost violently sudden as I'd gotten used to the dull _thud, thud, thud_ of Brad's fingers on the keys. Everyone stopped, listening to the change of sound. Still only for a second.

A second later it changed again, voices amidst the static. Panicky, scared voices. The Bravo's pilot, Kevin, hurriedly transmitting their co-ordinates before screaming at his coming fate. Then it crashed. I guess it crashed. I mean, we didn't hear anything, but that was the problem. One second there was screaming and chaos, terrible chaos as the Bravo's fought to keep their composure. The deafening sound then cut to silence in an instant.

Right then I should have trusted my gut. That very second the comms went silent I should've listened to myself.

But I didn't, and now most of the Bravo's are dead. I was just as cocky and pig-headed as always, mouthing off about how careless the Bravo's were not checking their copter in the first place. Boasting how the Alpha's would come to their rescue like a knight in shining armour. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't wan to admit it to myself. It didn't wan to admit that I could potentially be bringing her into a hostile environment where she might get hurt, or even killed. I could _never _admit that. Cause we were Alpha's right? And whatever Marini encountered we could beat. We were better…

Now I look back, I don't see how we were better. Just as many of us died that night as them. The problem was that we all didn't die, some survived. She survived. That's probably the worst thing, she managed to get out ok, even thought at times I thought that maybe she'd become just another rotting corpse shambling along the corridors of the Spencer Mansion. While I was in there I would have rather killed myself that let that happen. I would have _willingly _offered myself to give her a chance at life. I still would now, even thought that's a little late…

You see, this is where people start to tell me that I've lost it, finally gone over the edge. But I don't have anything to lose, so I don't really give a shit what they think.

If she'd been killed that night, turned into one of those rotten shells, walking round wearing the face of the woman I'd loved, me, having to put a bullet in her head, then that wouldn't have been as bad. Sure, I'd probably feel like eatin' my own bullet afterwards, but I wouldn't actually _do it._ I wouldn't have had the balls to. I still had other things to live for; like… like Claire. But we all know what happened to her. If she'd died then I would've pulled through.

It goes like this; I knew her less then, so I had less to lose. Granted, I still loved her, more than anything else, but I love her more now than I did then._ Loved… _

So, like before, I ignored my instinct, and for that one split second I hoped that we'd be ok after all. In that second of silence…

We were going in after them…


	4. Fear

Author's Notes: So we're finally there, the Spencer Mansion( well, kind of _hovering** outside**_). Lots of death promised next chapter I'm sure, but this is pretty much a set up… please R&R…

also, events based more on the gamecube remake than the original on ps one

When Wesker announced that we were going in after them, I was all bravado and talk. I guessed that it was the right thing to do. But I _knew _that it wasn't just the same. The only thing was I didn't know why. Not yet, anyway.

As I was sitting in the copter, contemplating the mission ahead of me, I didn't feel _scared._ I mean, why should I? It was a routine mission, a simple part replacement for the Bravo's copter, then we'd all be on our merry way back to the S.T.A.R.S office, condemned to sift through hours of paperwork like all cops are meant to. I told myself this over and over, _convinced _myself that nowadays cops didn't get the dangerous jobs that they used to. They were more likely to die of a heart attack than a bullet in the chest…

Mistake number two Redfield, _never_ underestimate a situation. Not when she's there…

Still, at that point I was glad to get out of the office, and relished the opportunity to be in the air, to be flying again.

I loved to fly; it was where I was meant to be.

If Brad hadn't been such a super genius hacker and tech expert, then I'd probably have been sitting at the controls of that helicopter, leading the team into the unknown. And I'd have done it with a shitload more courage than Brad. Brad was alright, really. A bit geeky, an outsider, but Brad was Brad and you couldn't change him. I wouldn't want to change him, not now.

Anyway, it didn't really matter. We were only looking for the downed copter and that wouldn't take long. Hour, maybe two, max. We certainly weren't looking for anything else, we didn't plan it, we didn't set it up like the papers suggested, we simply found it. God knows we didn't want to.

I remember towards the end of the first hour the consistent sound of the copters engine was sending me to sleep. Not proper sleep, but I could feel my senses dulling and my mind switching off…

Then I felt her next to me, her head lying on my shoulder, as the sound of her breathing became deeper as she fought to keep herself awake. Her fingers entwined with mine as I tried to picture myself somewhere else. A beach, a hotel room… anywhere. Somewhere _away _from the prying eyes of our team-mates, somewhere just for _us._ Huh, never be able to do that now, there'll never be time for _us_ again. Like there ever was.

So, the scene. Just as I was getting cosy in the copter, feeling completely at ease with her lying next to me, it happened. It wasn't so much the event itself as the feeling I got before it; fear. Actual fear. I was scared, though I didn't know why. Still don't know why. It was probably that gut reaction that I buried deep down, the sixth sense that warned me what was coming. It warned me, and I ignored it. I pushed it to the back of my mind, not relying on myself for anything, not even my own safety. Not even hers. Cause that's what she was for.

Safety.

Security.

My lock-and-key-and-safe. With her sitting next to me nothing could happen, to either of us. That was then, and I've changed. Now I'd embrace the fear. With nothing to lose fear doesn't mean shit to me.

I'm losing track again. Sorry, but I kinda' find it hard to concentrate when I talk about the past. It takes me to places that I don't want to go, places that I didn't want to be in, even then.

Ironic. If I'd listened to myself earlier then I wouldn't have been sat on the copter listening to my fears re-emerging, when I could've been miles away with her, on some sandy beach in Fiji. I would've been safe, free, away from the mess in the first place. I should've listened.

Coulda', woulda', shoulda'. Story of my life.

A second after, barely enough time for me to register my fear in the first place we saw it. Or to be more precise, Brad saw it. Brad saw it cause no-one else was looking'. He shouted out to the back, told us that he could see wreckage in the copters searchlight, and that the place was deserted. I was sure then. I knew I should've trusted my instincts all along.

Instantly I felt her finger leave mine, as she went over to the window and peered down into the darkness. Her face told me it wasn't good. Such… lack of hope, on such beautiful features could never be good, and as soon as she saw the wreckage she _knew _the same as me. That we were too late.

We didn't know what we were late for, but it _was_ bad, and I was scared, and out of all the things that happened at the Spencer Mansion, I always remember that second the most.

The second she left me, the second I acknowledged my fear. The second it all really started with. Us finding the helicopter.

That second I remember, the next I wish to forget.

Chapter Notes: Sorry its taking so long to get to the mansion guys, but I want to 'create suspense'. Also, if my writing seems to go slightly off topic, it's not me, the character is going loony… ;)

KEEP READING AND REVIEWING! (much appreciated)


	5. Loss

Author's Notes: I can't stress the whole r&r thing enough people, as I tend to lose the will to write if people don't review lol: 0… Also, can people please tell me if they want Leon to be good or 'evil' as he crops up later on, and the story could work both ways…

Some memories are best left forgotten. Like loss. Loss isn't a thing that I want to hold onto, loss is a thing that I've been trying to discard. Remove. Burn form my memory.

That's why I wanted to forget the next second, because from that spawned every gut-wrenching, heart-breaking and emotionally traumatic experience that I have ever had the good fortune to live through. Although I wouldn't pat myself on the back for it.

I can picture the scene perfectly in my head, playing it over and over until the image starts to crack and the voices start to bleed into one another. It's become a dream, stuck on an endless cycle, reminding me of where it all went wrong. A nightmare. Except that it didn't seem like a nightmare at the time, at least not to start with.

Getting out of the copter the moisture in the air instantly hit me, clinging to the tiny hairs on my arms as I un-holstered my handgun. It was cold. My breath steamed in front of me while the wind blew the faint scent of pine and burnt rubber into my face. I looked up from my position near the helicopter, and saw her standing in front of me, face slightly turned towards the forest. I remember her telling me that she always liked the forest, said her mom used to take her there before she died…

There was something about her though, her guard, her position, as she stood and stared. Believe me, I should know. Since she died all I've ever done, every day of every second is try to remember all the little things that she used to do; how she walked, how she talked, the way she flared her nose when she was angry, how she… how she _was. _How she always was.

She'll never be that again, she'll never be _alive._

So, when I looked at her I _knew_ that something was wrong. It was too much of a coincidence for us both to be worried about the exact same thing at the exact same time with out any grounding for our fear. Kindred spirits you could call it, or maybe just common sense. When we were both worried there was usually reason, and it's not like either of us could scare easily.

Still, I ignored it, kept my fears contained within myself. Maybe if I'd voiced them, more people would be alive today. Maybe she'd be alive today, but that's too much to hope for.

When we finally got moving my fears had subsided and I was feeling a little better about everything. It was stupid, I know, but I think that manly bravado started to kick in again and told me what I wanted to hear.

There was nothing to worry about. 

We searched in an arrowhead formation, a classic of search and rescue ops, with Joseph taking point and Wesker and Barry bringing up the rear. The forest was quiet, with the only noise coming from our own boots crunching the rotten leaves underfoot.

First sign, when you expect noise and there's silence, something, somewhere has been fucked with.

And I expected noise, though now I'm not sure why. Not anything deafening, but _something,_ some sign that other people were alive out there. Maybe hushed voices, or screams or cries, or… a sign. Any sign. A trail of breadcrumbs for us to follow for god sakes would've been handy.

I don't even remember who I was following. A mist had descended and I'd lost my bearings, couldn't even see Joseph a few feet in front of me. I just carried on walking, unknowing of what was in front of me. I guess I thought I'd lead myself back to the copter, or maybe even stumble upon the bravo team, sitting silently tending to their wounds after the crash. Or her. Maybe if 'd run into her then the next thing that happened wouldn't have been such a shock.

It was silent, before. Even more so than when I was walking round aimlessly in the fog. It could've only been for a second, but it seemed to stretch onwards, permeating my eardrums and deafening me but still in total silence. At the time, that silence was the worst thing that I had ever heard.

Until she screamed, and loss had made its first appearance.

Chapter Notes: Du, du deeeeeeer……! Ok people, your probably getting annoyed with the she all the way through, but I _promise _that there's_ a perfectly good explanation for it._ Also, thanks for your reviews ( I hope that this chapter was a little less confusing :)


	6. Sound

Author's Notes: My first shot at doing blood and gore is coming up, so I hope you enjoy it, and that I wrote it as passable hehehe… r&r if you would be so kind

I froze. The sound of her screaming literally anchored me to the spot, sending a sickening shiver up my spine. I wanted to run, to help. More than anything I wanted to be there for her, at her side. But I just couldn't move. I couldn't do anything; I even had to remind myself to breathe after a few seconds. It was that bad. I was that _scared _of what I might find.

Of course, Mr. Pessimistic Redfield would have you believe that she was dead the second the scream ended, with no one around to see the few final sparks of life that she had to show. I _couldn't _let myself believe that, even though a part of me always thought that the worst would happen, no matter what.

On the other hand, the optimist in me, the part of me that was connected to her on a level beyond the physical _knew _that she wasn't dead. I knew that because if she'd died then I'd have been there to shoot the bastard who did it, or protect her in the first place. Protect her, now _that's _a joke. I'm the joke…

I think that that was the part of me that got me moving again, and before I could take another breath, I was running, blindly running in the direction of that last sound. I prayed that it wasn't her last sound, I prayed that I wasn't too late.

I had this 'scenario' playing in my mind you see. I ran in, guns blazing, the classic night on horseback ready to save his damsel in distress. Things never play out the way that you imagined them…

After too short a time I reached my destination and what I saw played out in front of me as if it were in slow motion, my focus seemingly lingering on the smallest of things to distract me from the bigger picture.

My first loss, well, apart from my parents anyway…

Good thing was… what am I saying?… the_ best _thing was that she wasn't the one who I had lost. Not this time. You don't know how it feels to believe that you'd lost someone, someone you'd loved, and to see them standing there right in front of you _never_ wanting to feel like you'd lost them again. Difference is now that I _have _lost her, and for Wesker to…

…to do _that,_ after being her captain, someone she respected… it's agony to think of…

But that's not important at the moment. I've got a story to tell, and a story needs a timeline and right now I'm not sticking to it so I'll just get to the point.

When I arrived at the clearing, expecting my heart to be torn out and shredded to pieces in front of me, I found her standing there, pointing her gun off into the trees. If I'd had more time to stop and think about what I was seeing, then I probably wouldn't have believed it. But everything happened too quickly, so quickly that my mind didn't seem to see what my eyes did. I could only think in the simple terms, comprehend the simplest of ideas for fear of my mind overloading; she was alive, and for that point in time, that was good enough.

In the clearing there were a group of animals, dogs, feeding on something on the floor, ripping it apart as though it were a piece of meat from the slaughter house. That's what she was aiming for. I suppose if I was a normal person who didn't thrive on instinctive feelings, then I would've wondered why she was shooting at a pack of wild dogs. I'd always liked dogs, they were always the loyalist of pets, and brought back memories of my childhood, even though I didn't have greatest time when I was young…

But, as my life was pretty much _ruled_ by instinct back then, for the most part, I ran forward with the intention of helping her out. Besides I didn't know the whole situation. Maybe one of the dogs had bitten her, or scratched her or maybe they'd…

When I got closer I saw the entire situation with perfect clarity, like before the sound had been on mute and someone had just suddenly cranked the volume up high. The dogs weren't normal._ Weren't normal. _That's a fucking lie. They were seriously messed up, walked in like they'd pretty much been hand-picked straight out of Carpenter horror movie, all dripping fangs and foaming at the mouth, matted fur hanging off the bone, exposing bloody muscle and sinew. Then I saw what they were eating, and the horror movie suddenly became _very _real.

Joseph. Joseph Frost. A team member. A friend.

Forgive me if I don't sound as upset as I should but it was a long time ago in my eyes, and he was the first in a long line of losses, and believe me, the ones that followed were infinitely more painful to cope with. What really got me was the simple disregard for his life, how these _things_ had waltzed in and taken a life, not really knowing what they were doing cause they were animals and they had instincts to follow, right?

Like me. I followed my instincts. I didn't feel secure anymore and knew that I had to act.

Pulling my gun out I took aim and fired at the creature in front of me. I've always been a good shot, and that label paid off, hitting it right between the eyes. It fell instantly, brain matter patterning the tree behind. She fell to her knees too, face caught with the spray of gore, momentarily stunned by what she had seen. I can't say that I wasn't caught off guard too, but that instinct deep inside me told me to run, get away, get her away, before we became the meal to Joseph's appetiser.

I made a grab for her arm, pulling her from the forest floor and telling her to run, although I don't think she needed much persuasion. Strange that in a situation like that I noticed such a little thing as touching her arm, but whenever I touched her I kind of got this volatile electricity that passed through me, like she was a drug and I was addicted. Strange, I know, but now I think I remember ever time I touched her cause I'll never do it again. Strange…

We were running through the trees and somehow they were chasing us. She'd emptied a whole fucking _clip _into them for fuck sakes and they were still coming after us. So naturally the pessimist in me knew that they would catch us. Unfortunately I had to agree with him, as we were running all out and they were mere feet behind us.

I heard gun shots to my right, laud raucous shots, that could only have come from Barry's magnum. My heart skipped a little knowing that I still had some friends left, but it sank even more when I noticed dark shadows dashing through the trees. They were chasing him too.

We were almost out of options.

Finding the mansion seemed too good to be true, like it had been placed there to solely act as our sanctuary. A mirage, or perhaps hell in disguise. But we were out of options, and I didn't want to be dog food. Now I wish I'd taken my chances.

Despite my better judgement I found myself shouting to the others to head for the mansion. Despite myself, I followed.

_How many times have I told you Redfield, always trust your instincts?_

I was about to find out.

Enter the survival horror…

Dd-

Chapter Notes: ok how was that? Personally I really liked writing that chapter, and went over a page more than I usually do. Also note the sly little hint I dropped about Jill's future death (you may have to look really carefully!) and the reference to the remake with the last line. As always r&r people and I'll see y'all in the next chapter ( -Dd- stands for dustdevil if you were wondering…) (Duh!)


	7. Doubt

Author's Notes: We're finally there, at long last! I apologise for any deviations from the game, but no-ones perfect, and for not updating in over a day (gasp! Lol) Enjoy… r&r.

Dd-

That house was the start of it all.

Everything.

We made it there, after being chased by the dogs. God knows how, but we were still alive and for the most part, glad to be safe, tucked away in our temporary fortress. Or so we thought, but we weren't really in the right frame of mind were we? Guess the mountain air did something to us, lulling us into thinking that we were safe. Or the stench or blood…

I say 'we' made it, but that isn't saying much. She was there, along with Wesker and myself. I didn't know where Barry was, still don't know where he was, but he turns up later so that doesn't really matter. What matters is what happened _then, _at that time.

When we got there it was like everything that had just happened finally hit us, stunning us into total and utter silence while we contemplated the turn that our lives had just taken. We'd just seen dogs, mutant dogs, eating a member of our _team._ Safe to say it took some contemplation…

If I knew what I was going to see in the future then I don't think I'd have spent as much time mulling over my experience as I did. I didn't see the bigger picture, although I guess I should've seen _something_ coming because that little pang of instinct in the pit of my stomach just wouldn't go away. It kept on nagging and whining like a small child, always repeating the same thing over and over and it wouldn't stop and it kept on going and…

_Count one. Instinct doubting starts here_… 

Bet you think I'm insane now, huh? Too bad. Every insane person has a story; mine's just a little different.

Now, the mansion. We were in shock, but we weren't too dumb to realise that we were knee deep in shit and could do absolutely fuck all about it. Actually, knee deep in shit would've been preferable, but what you gonna do? We were stranded, surrounded, and our copter had decided to take an unplanned detour _away _from our LZ so that didn't help matters. The 'matters' at hand were beyond anyone's help…

Still, when I looked at her and in her eyes I saw complete and utter _surety_ of the situation, I felt my own fears crumble to ashes. Who could compete with love?

_Love isn't an instinct Redfield. Count two…_

I know that by now and in a way I knew it then.

A second I looked into her eyes, expressing more that words ever could, the next, my mind was focused, ready to dig myself out of the whole I was in. Ready to dig her out with me.

I can't say I remember the conversation we had, the three of us, but I remember leaving the room through the door to the left to search for Barry. Not that I expected to find him, but I had to look. She wanted to come too, to help, to feel useful, to do _something _other than waiting around to be fed to the dogs. But I insisted I go on my own, and Wesker insisted she stay…

_Count Three. Didn't pick on that one did you?_

I didn't. Not initially anyway. You could never tell what Wesker was thinking, not hidden under those shades anyway, and he never really voiced anything with real force. Made it seem more like a request than an order. But I still should've seen it, no matter how well that bastard could hide things. It wasn't like him to… to need anyone. He _never _requested back up, made it seem like back up weren't worthy to stand beside him so we all got tired of arguing. And then, in that situation he suddenly wanted the support. Needed someone to cover his back.

Bullshit…

And I know it, now anyway, though now is perhaps too late.

I just assumed, naturally, that the situation was getting to him, that he was actually human like the rest of us, that he needed grounding in reality. Needed a person. I didn't count on him already knowing about this shit hole, being part of it, almost being the cause of it. It didn't compute in my mind. So when he requested that she stay and 'secure' the immediate area, I counted on the fact that she was perfectly safe, and in the overly capable hands of our good captain Wesker.

_Well, at least you got one thing right Redfield, she did end up in his hands._

I don't want to think about that. We're focusing on what I did; I don't wanna go off track.

Still, when I made my way to the dining I didn't look back to check if she was safe, didn't bother to assume that she could be any kind of danger. As I said before, I tried to focus on the world in front of me, block out anything unnecessary that could cloud my judgement.

This thought followed me as I opened the door to the dining room, leaving her alone with Wesker in the hall behind me. The dining room was no contrast to the elaborate decor of the hall, showcasing elegant golden fixtures and pointless marble statues, all to advertise the apparent skill of the mansion designer. In my opinion, that same designer needed his head fixing cause some of the things he designed wouldn't look out of place in a torture chamber.

At the far end of the room was a fireplace. It stood about four feet high, with the emblem of Lord Spencer emblazoned in golden plating above it. But that wasn't the thing that drew my eye, as at the foot of the fireplace, a pool of drying blood sat. The room stank of it, the smell of the dried blood sticking in the heavy air. I'd smelt blood before, more times than I could count on both my hands, but since then, smelling mere blood would be a godsend. If only it were _mere blood…_

_Her blood. Didn't want to see that._

_Not yet._

I wanted to get out of that room, get away. I knew that I was perfectly safe. I was alone, and armed, and secure, nothing was getting in while I had my gun with me. But the room felt wrong somehow, and I _knew_ that I needed to escape. So I made for the door, grasping at the handle like at child would grasp at candy. I wanted to feel normal again, to feel right. If I knew then what was behind that door, then I would've turned back and joined them in the hall, cause since that moment I haven't ever felt normal.

_What happens when you're instincts abandon you?_

I should know because from that point, I had none…

Dd-

Chapter Notes: sorry it took longer than usual to write this one guys, but I kinda got writers block, and also sory if this chapter isn't great because I was slightly rushed. So, Chris without instincts, what will he do? You'll have to read on (I don't even know yet, so when you find out so will I :) and as always review…


End file.

Resident Evil, Angst, Romance