Those little freckles peppering his rounded cheeks had always made William look deceptively sweet, he had thought, looking up at the vision of the other man that had been fussing over him.
His honey-blonde hair almost glowed under the lights above them, and Albert wanted nothing more than to thread his fingers through those strands, once more.
He watched William work through half-lidded eyes, struggling to stay awake but refusing to takes his eyes off him, fearful that when he’d awake again, the other man would no longer be there.
It had been so long since he had seen him. He had begun to forget his face. He didn’t struggle against it, then, believing it to be for the best. But seeing him so clearly now, Albert didn’t want his dream to end.
There he was. His friend. Seemingly always just a little disheveled and sleepless, but always beautiful to him, nonetheless. Whatever mercy his mind, doubtless still caught in the throes of death, had gifted him, he wouldn’t spurn it.
“Will-“ He manages to mouth, feeling everything inside of him strain as he reaches out towards the other man with what remains of his warped, charred arm, losing the control of the damaged limb and feeling it collapse like a dead weight onto himself, making Wesker exhale in pain.
He can feel the cold sweat of unconsciousness wash over his forehead and he struggles against it. There is so much more he must say. His breath hitches and triggers an alert on a piece of medical equipment and Albert feels a prickling pain spread through his chest, before his fading mind inevitably plunges him into darkness, again.
It feels almost strange saying that. Even after everything. The passage of time aside, the fact that he can work again, the fact that he can work on Al of all people...
William has a large red patch of scar tissue skin that wraps around half of his face, over where his eye once was, down over the leathery bump that used to be his ear, and across his neck. He has glasses on his nose, and Will looks down at a clipboard he held close to himself, checking Al's blood pressure, blood sugar, blood oxygen level, brain activity, and any other information that he felt was necessary. And perhaps, a few pieces of information that was unnecessary, as Will wanted to keep doubly sure that Albert was recovering.
He had piles of documents that was keeping track of Al's vitals, even if he had the technology available to write it down on the computer, he still preferred to do it the way he had been doing it for decades. Besides, he could ask some intern at the Vicari Foundation to type it for him.
It's strange to have this type of power once again, the technology, the money, the medicine, the equipment, all necessary for progress... and yet he had such mundane tasks. Perhaps Vicari knew he could force Will into any situation, when it came to this task...
Will opened Albert's eyes, careful to open his lids, and shine a light in his eyes. They had been reacting faster and faster to the light, his pupils turning to thin slits, and then widening to the typical rounded shape when he pulled the light away.
William continued to write down on the forms he created to keep track of what to check on.
He doesn't notice Albert did not fully close his eyes when he took his hands away from his eyelids. Instead he is carefully touching the wounds along Al's neck and down his chest. He shouldn't need a bandage change any time soon, but he still checks to make sure it isn't inflamed and leaking pus. Al's wounds are black and red, gory and still pulsing in a strange way.
Will drops his clipboard with a jolt when he hears someone call him.
At first, he looks around, initially getting annoyed, thinking someone was trying to distract him. This was something he never allowed people to interrupt him doing, and he had snapped and quite a few nurses already for that.
But it snakes up his spine, before it sinks into his mind, that the voice is familiar, and yet so very foreign.
"Al... Al?" William leaned over him, his glasses falling off his face, only being held onto by the thin chain necklace that he wears to keep it onto him. "Al! Stop!" He sees him lifting his arm, and it drops from the weight of it. "Just stay still. Listen to me for once you fu-" He grabs Albert's arms, trying to keep them down, his eyes wild and nervous. "Stay still. You'll hurt yourself." He whispers in his ear, trying to be a bit more patient.
"Albert, can you hear me? Can you see me?" He asks him, and glances to the machine, seeing his blood pressure spiking, his heartrate thudding, his chest glows faintly, and it throbs, seeming to inflame itself from the activity. "Stay calm." He tells Albert urgently. "Uroboros is going to act up if you get excited -- damn it." He sees Albert's eyelids flutter, and his head sinks back.
William holds his head, cradling it for a second, and frowns at him. "You wait right here. If you wake up and leave I'll never forgive you." He hisses, but the probability of Albert even being able to walk is nigh impossible.
William steps back, and exits the room in a hurry, looking around, and shouting rather needlessly at some of the nurses for the medicine. "Get me two vials of the PG67A/W-2, and a cortisone shot. Now!" He snaps. "Get the padded matts too for the floor, and the G-Uroboros vaccine."
"I know the vaccine isn't ready! I fucking made it!" Will shouts over the table once one of the nurses dares to even respond with anything other than 'yes sir' and it mutes them quickly. "It'll do what I need it to do for now, so go get it out of deep freeze. Christ! I have to do everything myself around here!" He watches the help scatter, and paces around erratically, before turning back to Albert's room, and approaching him. The machines continue to beep.
"You always love to ruin my plans." William hisses. "I was going to wake you safely in just a few months. Why can't you ever wait for me to catch up to you?"
He continues to cuss Albert out, and as he waits, he carefully reaches out, and touches his blond hair, combing it back with his fingers.
