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just-general-stuff · 4 years

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Third Time’s A Charm

I also posted this fic on AO3 but I’m also going to post it here. But the link in AO3 is this: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23853535

He couldn't put why this day just seemed so familiar. It was strange enough, waking up to feel a heavy weight on his chest. A weight seemed to put pressure on his lungs and his heart. Add in that he felt even weaker than usual. He was sure he would never get sick ever again but then the Prototype virus within him had been weakened greatly from his final battle with Chris. How he survived he would never know. All he knew was from what Chris had told him, having found him on the hot barren rocks of the volcano, intact but still covered in burns that were slowly healing.

Instead of killing him then and there, Chris had took him back to the B.S.A.A. to be charged of his crimes. He had expected to be sentenced to death but what would transpire next he would never expect in his entire lifetime. Wesker was never one to believe in a higher power but what Chris did made him question it momentarily. Chris had convinced the Board to spare him by making him the B.S.A.A.'s lapdog so that they could get him to aid in taking down any bio-terrorist forces out there.

There just seemed to be more of them popping out right after TRICELL's fall. With each one destroyed, two more would emerge. It was like dealing with a Hydra. Cut off one head and two more would take its place.

It was frankly getting tiring have to deal with such weaklings. He hated that he had become shackled once more but under a different Master. All his work to free himself from Umbrella only to be trapped and forced to work for the enemy. What a waste.

He figured he should get ready now else Chris comes in yelling for him to get ready and attempt to haul his ass out. Getting up from his bed, Wesker heads to the bathroom in his single bedroom and removing his shirt, letting it fall to the tiled floor. Sighing, he looks into the mirror, staring at the ugly scars on his chest. Memories of an past life, a life he nearly once had with a certain brunette filled his thoughts. It just seemed like a dream. A dream that was too good to be true yet somewhat filled him with a lingering warmth of hope.

Only for Spencer to rip it away.

Flickers of a memory under a table, sterile white walls and sterile air, and him struggling to break free only for him go under. The next memory that came up was of him waking up only to see scars on his pale chest from where they had cut him open to remove the flowers that had strewn through his ribs. And not a single emotion when he saw Chris again.

But it came back again, right after the betrayal. Time and again he would cross the younger man in his path, and the feelings he thought was once lost returned. It had been a daunting internal battle within himself. Should he choose to remove it or keep it? A part of him wanted to keep the memories, perhaps even share what he felt with Chris insane as it sounds because there was no way that Chris would forgive him for what he had done. But another part of him told him to rid of it. That it was a sign of weakness. That he didn't need to be shackled by a love that the brunette would not have for him.

It was a long and struggling battle. But as he watched the world sink further into chaos and learning that he was manufactured from the old bastard, he made his decision then. There was no point in falling for Chris. The brunette would never love him and he wouldn't care if he had died. Plus, he wouldn't want to love something that was manufactured by the CEO of a company that had hurt him personally.

He had grander things to go for. To cleanse this world for one.

So he had Excella ask her most professional surgeons to remove it once more.

He remembered what the surgeon had told him. He won’t be able to survive the third surgery. It would outright kill him.

He didn’t care.

He woke up without a nary of emotion. Once again, all that he felt was wiped clean. Even until what he presumed was his dying breath.

It then hit him. That heavy weight he felt deep in his chest that he recalled in those 'dreams' of his. It was the same feeling he had when the flowers were about to emerge. But why? Why now?

Shaking his head, he goes to get ready for the day hoping he could just ignore it.

He should have known better that he couldn't just ignore it.

Wesker watched from afar as Chris laughed alongside the young man. What was his name again? Ah yes, it was Piers Nivans. It was strange watching them interact. The Piers boy acted so much like Chris back when they were in STARS. Always trying to prove himself to his Captain and just looking up in admiration of Chris. And that look on the younger man's face...

Even though it had been years, he would always know that look. It was the same look of affection, adoration and... love Chris once had whenever he looked at him. It made his chest twinge with jealousy and the heavy weight in his chest intensified into outright pain. So intense and sharp he clutched his shirt right over his heart and clamped a hand over his mouth when he felt something rise up his tightening throat. A phantom memory of what was to come made his feet move, rushing right for the restroom before anyone knew what was happening to him.

He nearly collided into Jill when he did so and before he could stop himself, he started to cough, spurting out bloody white petals with blood trickling down his chin.

Before Jill would have not cared less, but somehow a small part of her still cared for the blonde-haired bastard although she rationalized it to not wanting to explain to the Board in the future why they just lost their greatest asset. So she grabbed Wesker by the collar of his shirt and drags him to the clinic despite his protests.

Even in the clinic, he still protested vehemently on removing his shirt until Jill threatened to knock him out with the serum that the B.S.A.A. had developed capable of knocking out the toughest of B.O.W.s. So he did, and Jill couldn’t help let loose a small gasp when she saw the deep scars etched across Wesker’s chest.

“How many?”

Wesker didn’t dare say.

“How. Many. Wesker?” Jill asks once more firmly.

“Twice.” He said, his eyes averted away from Jill, curling his hands into fists.

“Then you should know that a third surgery will-.” The doctor began to say but Wesker quickly cuts him off.

“I know! You don’t have to tell me.” He grits out, curling his fists harder until his nails dug into his palms that it would leave red welts.

“Do you know whom it is you’re... having these feelings for?” He asks.

Wesker kept silent. But Jill just seemed to know.

"It's him isn't it?"

The blonde-haired man was hesitant but he knew better than to lie to Jill. The woman was intuitive. He nods, confirming her suspicions. “...It is.”

“So both times...”

Wesker couldn’t help but laugh. “Pathetic isn’t it? I told Chris our fates are forever intertwined. I never meant it to be this true or that fate be this cruel. But rest assured Valentine, I'll be out of your hair soon enough. I’m sure you'll be celebrating over my future death now that you know.” He said. Without waiting for her to reply, Wesker then got up putting on his shirt once more and left not wanting to stay around any longer.

Wesker coughed and wiped the blood trickling out from the corner of his mouth, cursing that he had failed to take out the target. It didn’t help that Chris was screaming into his ear about his failure.

“Would you just shut up, Chris!? I get it! I’m a failure! Why I bother staying around is beyond me!”

“You don't have a choice on whether you can just leave the B.S.A.A.! It's because of me that you're still alive so don’t forget who you’re working for!” Chris yells back.

"And here I thought you're my partner." Wesker says, sarcasm dripping off his words.

"You never will be!" Chris shouts, somehow getting incensed and not realizing that Wesker was just being sarcastic.

Hearing the brunette get even more incensed seemed to make Wesker want to poke the bear even more. “Oh, is that true considering we once did work together?”

“You’re not my Captain anymore Wesker! Never was and never will be!”

He didn't know why but it angered him more than he could possibly imagine when Chris said that. It shouldn't. But it did. His plans to poke the bear had backfired on him as he retaliated with equally great fury. “As if!” He scoffs. “Considering you yourself once said that you will always love me!”

“Well I don’t! How could I after everything you did! You’re a monster and if you so much as die, I could give two shits less! For all I give a damn, you would be doing us all a favor if you just die!”

Silence crackled in his earpiece and Wesker figured it was just the brunette trying to catch his breath. If only he knew, he would have seen the look of horror on Chris’s face over what he had just said.

“Duly noted.” Wesker muttered before Chris could even put a word in and shuts off the earpiece. Fine. If Chris wanted him dead, so be it. Its better than telling the younger man what he felt. Damn him if he told the truth, damn if he don't. He was going to die regardless even if he took the surgery.

He just didn't know why he would choose to go down the long, painful road.

Bright lights filled his vision and Wesker blinked trying to get his eyes used to the bright rays, raising a hand over his eyes. It was then he heard a familiar voice speak from right beside him.

“Hey. You’re awake. No, don’t get up. You were found badly injured out there right beside the corpse of our target B.O.W.”

“...What do you want Chris?” Wesker mutters as he realizes that he was on a hospital bed. No doubt in the B.S.A.A's medical bay.

“Hey come on, you need to rest.”

“You don’t need to play nice with me. I got the message.”

“Wesker... look I... how long?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Wesker. You know.” So he saw the scars then. There was now no point in lying to the brunette. Chris may be naïve of the world at times but he isn't stupid.

“...Two and a half weeks.”

“Goddamn it... Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What else is there to say? That I’m going to die? That if I take the surgery, I'll still die regardless? Then you’ll have to explain to the Board why the B.S.A.A.’s lapdog is dead?”

“Wesker wait let me explain-!”

“That you would rather have me dead? I assure you must be celebrating internally that I’ll be dead soon enough along with the rest of the B.S.A.A. which I have no doubt have made its rounds by now.” The blonde-haired man says through gritted teeth, his chest aching even more.

Pushing himself off the bed, Wesker pulls of the electrodes all over his chest off, making the heart monitor by the bed whine out loud. Quickly turning it off, he grabs a shirt off a chair by the bed and dons it. “You don’t have to say anything, Redfield. I got your message loud and clear.” He said before he then left without another word.

It didn’t take long for word to spread around. He could hear the whispers and even saw his son and Sherry watching him as if they expected him to drop dead at any point of time. Any familial connections that could have been formed between them was probably burned off a long time ago. So it was a massive surprise when Sherry sat beside him out on the rooftop where he would escape to whenever he needed some time to himself and was even more surprised when she hugged him.

“I don’t know why. But even after everything, I still care about you. You were there for me when my parents weren’t.” She had mumbled into his shirt.

Wesker swallowed thickly. Even though he would never be going out of his way to babysit children, when it came to Sherry he would do so even if he was as busy as he is. He still cared for the little girl now turned young woman even when he did acted cold towards her. “...I’m not a good man, Sherry.”

“I know. Yet you’re still my godfather. I can’t cut my ties so easily.” She muttered, tightening her grip around his waist. That made his heart twist. Even after everything, she still accepted him.

“I will die, Sherry. Its best you cut ties now. I don’t want you crying over me. I’m not worth your tears.”

“Tough. I’m still going to. How could I not? And don’t think Jake doesn’t care. He does. I mean, you’re the last living relative he has.” She says.

Even though he was labeled as the son of a madman, the boy still cared about him? Even after he had left his mother by herself out of fear that Spencer would use her against him and telling her to never contact him? If only she did, he would known of her pregnancy. But then again, he might not have cared about Jake. But after meeting the young man and watching him from afar, he found himself caring a bit for the boy. Nevertheless, it relieved him that Jake was a better person than he would ever be despite of how stubborn and hot-headed he is.

“...Take care of him for me. God knows he needs someone level-headed around.”

“I will.” Sherry said tearfully.

They sat there on the rooftop until the Sun had set and the stars had dotted the night sky, not knowing of the brunette watching them from the ladder, not daring to interrupt them.

Well. He got his wish. It was either he die by the flowers or in the fight against bio-terrorism. Wesker coughed out fits of blood as the massive B.O.W. whom had once been the head of the bio-terrorist organization they were after slowly crushed him under the palm of his massive clawed hand. Deep gouges and slashes covered every inch of his body, his blood pooling underneath him and growing into an ever larger puddle.

“Look at you. The mighty Albert Wesker, now the B.S.A.A.’s lapdog and dying underneath me. You’re now nothing! I will finally be able to claim that I killed you and I’m sure your B.S.A.A. would not care less.” The monster growled with glee as he puts on more pressure, crushing and breaking more of his ribs and puncturing his organs from the broken pieces of his ribs.

Wesker screamed in pain, clutching weakly at the fingers trying to wrestle them off but he was too weak to do so. He was going to die here, the virus unable to repair the terrible injuries. There were too many and too severe.

“At least...” He huffed. “You won’t see the light of the next day.” He spat.

“What?” Next thing Wesker knew, a bright light hit the monster and an explosion boomed echoed with the dying screams from the beast as he surrendered himself to the darkness.

After he had fired the rocket launcher, Chris had rushed into the chaotic scene and found the blonde haired man, all bloody and barely breathing with a pulse that was barely there. He cried out, cradling Wesker to his chest pleading to him to stay. To stay and fight still. But a part of him knew that Wesker had given up. The words he said weeks ago had done its work. Not to mention that Jill had told him of whom Wesker’s love was and how long he had held it. Twice he held and all for him. The first time forced out of him by Spencer, the second time by his own decision from the files they had managed to compile from Umbrella's and TRICELL's archives which had taken them quite some time.

But once again, it all led to Spencer. Would things have been different if Spencer hadn’t known and forced Wesker under the knife? And even then, what would have changed? He was a coward even back in his S.T.A.R.S. days thinking that Wesker would never love him like he did. And now despite it all, he still loved the man but he was just terrified to confess his love to Wesker. It was no wonder Jill told him then. Even when he tried to move on, there was still his heart holding him back. Piers had known and had broken it off telling him to follow his heart. How could one so young be so wise?

And yet, despite the truth, he still feared the worst. He still feared giving in, telling Wesker only for the man to throw it back in his face. But isn’t it he who is throwing Wesker's love right back in the blonde-haired man's face by not admitting the truth and not the other way around? And now here he is, dying in his arms all because he didn't tell the truth.

“Wesker please. You need to hold on. I... I have so much to tell you. I just can’t live without you!” He sobs. Yet the man in question laid in his arms, a few seconds an inch from death. And then, he heard Wesker breath his last.

A loud scream filled with grief, guilt and sorrow pierced the destruction, a scream that would have made any person in close proximity feel the despair wafting off of it.

"NO!"

Death was peaceful, Wesker thought. He had always thought a hellish fate awaited him but instead here he was floating in a sea of black. Silence filled his ears, not a sound. He couldn't even hear his own breathing. It went on like this for god knows how long. He had lost track of all time. And then a whisper somehow pierced the cool darkness.

“Wesker... you have to wake up. A lot of people here are missing you. Chris included.” The whisper spoke. Why did it sound like Jill?

“Chris... He still loves you but he needs you to be awake when he tells you that. And... he’s coughing up petals too.”

Chris, coughing up petals? This has to be a joke. Wasn’t he happy with Nivans? Wasn't he glad that he was gone?

“Please. Chris... he really needs you. So please, wake up you bastard.”

It had to be a cruel joke. A ghost to haunt him. Yet why did those words sound so sorrowful even with that insult at the end? That certain organ he once thought dead began to beat and he decided he would have to see for himself as a burning hope renewed. He just hoped it was all for nothing.

When he woke up, he found himself back in the medical bay, a breathing tube down his throat and there was Chris sleeping by his bed, his hand clutching onto his. He looked haggard and exhausted, like he hadn’t gotten much sleep at all.

Squeezing Chris's hand woke the younger man up and Chris immediately called for help. Once the tube was gone and they were left alone once more, Chris told him then.

“I love you Wesker. I still and always have. I... I was a fool to say that I wouldn’t care if you died.” He said, sniffling slightly. “In fact, I would have missed you.” He said.

“Chris-.”

“No please. Let me finish.” The brunette pleaded. Clutching Wesker’s hand with both hands, Chris continued, “I cradled you as you died in my arms, Wesker. Your heart stopped. I screamed, I cried, I pleaded for you to come back. I thought I would never be able to tell you how much I still loved you. Funny enough, when they brought you back but you remained in a coma, I started coughing up petals.”

This was just too much to take in. Chris grieved over him? Chris loved him so much that he started to cough up his own petals?

"If you had never woken up or died... I would have followed you. And I honestly didn't care because I felt like I deserved it after what I did to you."

“But now, I have a chance. So I’m telling you this and now. I love you Albert. I always will.”

It was like the world was lifted off of his shoulders. His lungs had never felt more clearer and his heart seemed to pound even more strongly than before. Squeezing those hands back, Wesker for the first time, smiled. Not the cold smile he would put on but a genuine smile.

“I love you too, Christopher.” He said, the words coming off of his tongue with such ease.

He had wondered initially why he had chosen to go down the long, painful path to death. Now he knew.

He just wanted to have the hope that there could be more.

And thank god he went with it. After all, third time's a charm as they say.

#wesker x chris #chrisker #albert wesker x chris redfield #albert wesker #chris redfield #resident evil fanfic #hanahaki disease

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