Work Text:
2008
Chris awoke in a damp dark room he was not familiar with. It smelled of earth and wet concrete, and a cold chill filled the air. He was secured tightly to a chair in the middle of the room, with his arms tied behind his back, and his ankles together beneath him. He blinked a few times, shaking the blurriness from his vision. He had a headache and felt like a couple of his ribs may have been broken, but he had certainly felt worse when he had woken up in similar situations. Wesker must have been in a good mood today, lucky him.
Suddenly, Chris felt the end of a gun pressed against his forehead. It felt cold and he could smell gunpowder on the barrel mixed with the familiar scent of a cologne he knew all too well. He glared up at the red glowing eyes staring down at him, before glancing at the gun, noticing that Wesker’s finger was suspiciously not on the trigger. It never was. He grew angry and thrashed at his restraints.
“Enough with the semantics Wesker, you aren’t going to kill me, so put the fucking gun down.” Chris spat at him.
Wesker took a step back from him and lowered the gun, he looked annoyed and was about to speak before Chris interrupted him.
“How many times are we going to be in this situation, Wesker?” Chris raised his voice. He was tired of the games, the back and forth, the empty threats. “I have seen you put your fist through the chests of multiple men like it was nothing, you could snap my neck in seconds and walk out that door, but you know what? You won't. So instead of whatever bullshit you came here to gloat about, why don’t you tell me the reason why you can’t just put an end to this and fucking kill me?”
Wesker stared at him, expressionless. It was fairly dim in the room as Wesker stood before him, eyes glowing and free from the sunglasses he typically wore.
Chris didn't wait for an answer, he had lost track of the times he had been in this situation and watched Wesker avoid numerous opportunities to kill him while everyone else seemingly died around him. “I'm tired. I’m fucking tired of chasing you around, leaving missions with a bunch of dead soldiers and nothing to show for it other than you putting me in the hospital for a few weeks. It's like a cruel joke at this point. People think that I am some sort of survivor, a hero even. This is all a bunch of bullshit, it's just a game to you.”
Wesker grabbed onto the arms of the chair, Chris could hear the metal straining under his grasp. His eyes blazed red, he leaned in, inches away from Chris’ face.
“You dare ask me why I haven’t killed you, yet every time we meet I am faced with the pleading eyes of a sad man desperately trying to grasp onto an illusion of the Captain he thought he once had? The shadow of a man you keep reaching out for but are unable to grasp?”
Chris felt his breathing hitch. He was about to choke out some half assed rebuttal when Wesker pushed a finger into his chest. Chris gasped, his touch was warm; the placement of his finger purposely avoided a wound. Wesker continued.
“How about this for an answer? As long as you keep trying to drag me into some sort of self-serving redemption fantasy of yours, I will continue to live for my own where you finally give in and join me as you should have done at the Spencer mansion.”
Chris shook his head, “I would never join you,” he knew it was a lie so he tried to rephrase it, “N-not like this. Do you know how many lives you’ve ruined? How much pain you’ve caused?” Chris stumbled. He knew, he knew all too well, but there was no limit to the crimes Wesker could commit, Chris felt he was still redeemable. The Captain he once knew, the lover he once had, he would do anything to get that back, to feel him again, be with him again…to be under him again.
Wesker ignored him, leaning closer to whisper suggestively in his ear.
“Don’t you miss it, Christopher?” Chris shivered under him. “I certainly miss you. The flushed cheeks, the screams, the whimpers, the bruises I painted on your skin. We used to have such a pleasant time together. I know you crave fixing what you think is broken, just as much as I crave the day when your repeated failures will wear you down enough to be by my side once again.”
Wesker stood up, as Chris felt a tremor of guilt pierce through his chest as he walked away from him. As much as he hated to admit it, time with Wesker was still time he cherished, even if it was like this.
“So no, I will not kill you. Not while I still intend on tasting what once belonged to me again. But we both know whose decision that is, so you could have answered your question yourself.”
He smirked at the pained expression on his former pointman’s face. He wasn’t planning on having to explain himself after all this time, and thought that the unspoken stalemate that they had found themselves in was self explanatory. Apparently it wasn't, but he grew bored of the banter and didn’t come here to hash out their twisted version of a lovers quarrel.
He continued, “But as I have said before, our fates are intertwined, and I don’t see us reconciling any time soon. So if you are not in the mood to humor me today, I will just take my leave.”
He shook his head and gave Chris a disappointed look before turning towards the door. Silence filled the room as Chris hung his head, his shallow broken voice cracking.
“I-I do miss it.”
It was so quiet, Wesker almost didn't hear it, even with his advanced hearing. It sent an unexpected surge of emotions through his chest that he almost just kept walking right out of the room and pretended he hadn’t heard it. But when he heard a slight sniffle from behind him, he turned back in disbelief.
Chris felt his eyes well up, he couldn't move his hands to wipe the tears from his eyes and despite how hard he was fighting it, a tear slid down his cheek, creating a streak in the dirt that coated the side of his face.
“Oh, you can’t be serious.” Wesker snapped at him.
“Of course I’m serious.” Chris weakly sobbed. “W-What we had? It was everything to me. I had a shitty fucking life if you don’t recall. Losing my parents, getting kicked out of the air force. All I wanted was stability, something I could count on, and that was you.” Chris tried to steady his breath but he couldn’t.
“Oh please Christopher, really? Your so called ‘shitty life’? Try having every aspect of your life being controlled by a pharmaceutical company. I desperately grasped at anything I could that would make me feel like I was able to make an independent decision, and that decision was you.” He hissed “and look where it got me.”
The words Wesker spoke stung Chris. After all this time they really had never talked like this. There were years worth of feelings the two of them had been forcing down and ignoring, just festering under the surface. Chris couldn’t help but fuel the fire.
“You taught me everything. Everything I fucking do reminds me of you. On every mission, every shot I take, every punch I throw. It’s always you. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t hear your voice correcting my shitty form, or telling me to be lighter on my feet. And you want to know where it gets me? Here. Fucking keeps me alive while everyone else dies around me.”
Wesker pinched the bridge of his nose before sighing heavily. This was becoming too much, even for him. He turned away from Chris and spoke quietly. “And you think the sound of your voice doesn’t haunt me? Your silly sense of resolve, your pathetic sense of justice? Everytime I make progress on my plans, there you are. Like some crude attempt at a moral compass that I constantly have to silence. It’s sickening, the last bit of humanity still left in me is you.”
Chris’ lips began to tremble, there were too many emotions coming to the surface and he was overwhelmed. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, trying to rub his cheek against shoulder. “Can you untie me please?” He asked, voice cracking.
Wesker knelt beside the chair, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wiping the tear streaks from Chris’ face. He said nothing, his movements unusually soft and careful. He had only cleared one side of Chris’ face before it became too much and more tears formed “Stop.” Chris said weakly. Wincing back at the gentleness of his touch. “Please.”
Wesker stopped. He tilted Chris’ chin up, trailing his thumb along his lips.
“I’m not going to do this with you anymore, Chris. Clearly we are not at a point where either of us are going to concede. We will never have what we once had, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can use that foolish hope of yours to rebuild what is left between us.” He brushed away another stray tear from the top of Chris’ cheek. “A revolution by my hands is coming. That is what I brought you here to tell you. Take this as my final offer to join me in a new world. You will have some time to think it over, so think carefully.”
Chris felt a breeze pass through his hair as his restraints hit the floor. Wesker was gone and the room was filled with silence. Chris rubbed his wrists before holding his head in his hands, his sobs echoing loudly in the now empty room.