“I don’t think you want to die just yet, I have something that is of some interest to you.”
Wesker turned to a nearby computer and tapped a few buttons. Within moments, the liquid began to drain from the large tank at his side and Chris felt his stomach drop. Inside stood a mass of flesh, humanoid, but certainly not human. Talons ripped out of its hands and pale white flesh clung weakly to its massive frame, creating the illusion that the abomination could be dead, but its heart, dear god —its heart was attached to its chest, beating slowly, making it oh so clear this thing was somehow alive.
“The ultimate lifeform, Tyrant!”
Chris was horrified, he thought he might be sick but steadied himself, refusing to show any weakness in front of the man standing across from him. All the lies, pain, and the deaths of his fellow S.T.A.R.S. members for this thing? Years spent serving with Wesker only for him to throw Chris and his friends to the mercy of the mansion, to fight horrors the likes of which he assumed would only exist behind a TV screen, knowing that most of them would not only die but suffer in the meantime. It was deplorable. So deplorable it was amusing. Chris felt a laugh rising in his chest, a feeling of hysteria in him that could only be brought out by the Captain making the whole tragedy seem like an elaborate joke. But then he looked at Wesker.
His captain, who always was so stoic, who Chris looked up to as a model of bravery, the man who had torn through both warfare and the daily dangers of Racoon City, and who had been his strongest support when the job was difficult when things went wrong and lives were lost, was looking back at him. Rarely did Wesker betray emotion on his face, but there was an abnormal tenseness on it right now, like he was waiting for something. Wanting something. Then a strange thought began to dawn on Chris.
Chris looked down at Rebecca. Wesker had shot her without hesitation. Why not him? And why did he want to show Chris his little science project in the first place? Chris was no scientist, he had no knowledge or appreciation for this kind of thing. So why try to explain it to him?
Wesker was still standing silently, gun pointed at Chris, watching. Waiting.
“Wesker. What do you want?”
The older man looked confused for a moment. “Is it not clear?”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Is anything you say ever clear?”
There was a long pause. “Chris.”
“Yes?”
“I want you to join me.”
Chris nearly laughed again.
“Why? I’m not a scientist, I don’t understand any of this shit. I failed half of my classes in high school and went straight into the military.”
Wesker smiled at this, not maliciously, but enough to annoy Chris.
“I don’t know the difference between an acid and a base,” He continued, “Much less how to play with whatever shit you’re apparently into. I can’t help you, I'm just another S.T.A.R.S. member and the rest of us seemed pretty disposable to you. So why me?”
Wesker glanced away for a moment, brows furrowed but still holding tightly to his gun. Chris considered trying to grab it from him while he was distracted but knew that his superior was, well, superior, at least physically. So they both waited in silence.
“Do you remember Barry’s New Year’s Party?” Wesker finally asked.
Chris was stunned. Here they were in the middle of a secret lab, Wesker having killed all of Chris’s friends and coworkers, right in front of a giant mutated monstrosity and Wesker was asking about a New Year’s party that had happened months ago. He knew the man had no social awareness, but — Jesus fucking Christ.
“Yeah, I remember.” Chris grumbled, “I remember everyone but you being drunk, and how you kept complaining about how it was too loud and how you were clearly miserable and left before it was even midnight.”
Wesker sighed, clearly not thrilled with Chris’s response, but continued anyway.
“Do you remember that, even though you were already drunk, you were the first person to greet me?”
Chris grimaced, remembering vaguely how he had nearly tripped over the coffee table, running up to the captain like a dog that missed his owner. It certainly didn’t help that he was already two shots and a few beers in by nine when Wesker had arrived.
“Yep, I remember that.”
“And you remember how every time people would start getting loud you would yell at them and check in on me?”
That memory was even fuzzier, but it would definitely explain why everyone kept teasing him and calling him a buzzkill the next day in the office.
Chris simply nodded back.
“And this you probably don’t remember either, but before I left, you offered to walk me home just to make sure I was alright, even though you were the one who clearly needed an escort.”
That memory was hazy too, but Chris remembered being alone with Wesker next to the door, catching him by the shoulder before he left, and gentle words shared between the two of them along with an overwhelming feeling of concern. He remembered moving his face far too close to his captain's, the nagging worry that maybe his breath was bad or he was sweaty and not being sure of the last time he showered, and then he remembered almost leaning in before Wesker gently pushed him back and wished him a good night.
Oh. Now he was starting to get it.
Chris took a step forward. Wesker’s hand tightened around the gun, but he didn’t move to shoot.
“Why are you bringing all of this up now?”
Wesker didn’t respond.
Taking a deep breath, Chris slowly, gently reached out, placing his hand on top of the gun aimed at him, and began to push Wesker’s arm down. There was resistance for only a moment before the older man complied. When the gun was aimed at the floor, Chris took another step forward and the two were now nearly pressed against each other. His face was far too close to his captain’s. He felt a nagging worry that maybe his breath was bad. Or that he was sweaty and after hours of running around in this godforsaken mansion he definitely needed a shower. But Wesker didn’t move away as he leaned in and Chris decided chances were all of that didn’t matter.
“So I take it you’re asking for a little bit more than just for me to join you?” Chris asked.
His superior chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
This time, Wesker leaned in the rest of the way and pressed his lips against Chris’s. Almost on instinct, Chris closed his eyes and wrapped an arm around his former captain’s waist, pulling him closer before pushing deeper into the kiss. He felt the blonde man’s arms wrap around his neck and allowed himself, just for a minute, to forget everything that had occurred, what the man touching him had done. And if he could forget for a minute, he could forget for a little bit longer. Why not join him?
Finally, he pushed Wesker away, taking a moment to catch his breath, his partner’s arms still wrapped around him.
“Just what are we getting into?” Chris mumbled.
“Well, for one, a boatload of money when I sell all the assets I’ve stolen from Umbrella, which will then be used to fuel a quick escape from the country and a life of avoiding the company’s attempts to find us for my betrayal.”
Chris looked back down at Rebecca. Was he really ready to not only assist the man who shot her and Enrico? The man who currently had Jill trapped in a cell? But then again, what would happen to Jill if he refused? Wesker would make quick work of him and then no one could save her. Chris was certainly drawn in by the deal Wesker was offering, but he also knew he could potentially bargain for more.
“What about Jill? Are you going to kill her too?”
“Not personally, but I am preparing the entire estate to self-destruct. I don’t expect she would survive.”
Chris’s heart began to race. No, he couldn’t let that happen.
“Let her out. Let her escape and I’ll go with you, help with whatever you need. I want to join you but I won’t have S.T.A.R.S. blood on my hands. I won’t have Jill’s blood on my hands”
Wesker’s lips tightened and he gripped his weapon a little tighter.
“I appreciate your loyal mannerisms Chris but don’t want to leave loose ends.”
“What could she do? Even if she does survive it would be her word against the entire Umbrella Corporation, and you don’t plan on sticking around anyway, right?”
Wesker pondered this idea for a moment and Chris held his breath, unsure if he had made the right play.
“Fine.” Wesker finally responded. “If I can trust that your future loyalty lays solely with me I’lll let her go.”
Chris breathed a sigh of relief.
“Deal, now what are you going to need from me?”
“I’m not quite sure yet, but I do know you don’t have to worry about being a part of any scientific work I choose to complete in the future, I’m more than capable of handling that by myself.”
Wesker had only just finished his sentence when a near-deafening shatter of glass pulled their attention back to the tank that housed the monster. The abomination had broken through the glass, its talons seeming to have shredded the material with nearly no effort. Chris and Wesker glanced at each other.
“I hope the scientific work you plan on handling includes that fucker too.” Chris groaned as the two pulled out their weapons.
~~~
Happy Chrisker Week everyone! I hope that you’re looking forward to all the content this celebration will encourage and be sure to seek out other creators participating, many of whom I have interacted with and know are fantastic in their respective domains. Speaking of other creators I want to give a huge thank you to the creators who helped me with this story. Thank you to Ardnaif (AO3 and tumblr), Regnard (AO3), and Tea (theredfields on tumblr) who all looked over this piece, made suggestions, and helped me edit. As a small creator it meant the world to me to get these people’s opinions and I know they helped me grow as a writer. I will post the links to their pages below, make sure to give them a follow! Enjoy Chrisker week and feel free to join in, we can always use another creator!
