Chapter Text
Chris was exhausted and decided to go straight to his Recreation Room where, unsure if it was from hunger or sleepiness, or perhaps both, since the MonoDroid said it was 10:49 PM, Chris lay down on his bed after taking off his boots and shirt, hoping that strange feeling in his stomach would disappear completely.
In his dreams, Chris had a first-person perspective, as if it were a memory. In the dream, he was fishing in what he assumed was a large lake, since mountains could be seen in the distance and a forest surrounded the lake. Chris had just caught a large salmon and even asked someone to take a picture of his great catch, but when the flash went off, Redfield woke up even more tired than before he went to sleep.
Chris felt his chest sweating, and he was so dizzy that the light in his room only worsened his discomfort, leading him to close his eyes and pull one of the blankets over his head. He then rubbed his face against the already sweat-soaked pillow. Chris rubbed his face with his hands and stared at the floor where his dirty boots lay.
Until that moment, Chris hadn't noticed the dirt on his boots, but why would they be dirty if they'd been indoors the whole time? Why was there dirt on the soles of his boots?
Before he could question reality, Chris received a visitor. The other person greeted him through the intercom, where, through a small peephole, he could see that it was Albert Wesker.
"Are you there, Chris? Shit... I hope you're not somewhere else."
Chris was so concerned by Albert's apparent desperation that he decided to answer immediately.
"It's me, Wesker. Is something wrong?"
"I thought you'd be somewhere else. May I come in, Chris? I've been searching for answers all damn day... answers only you can give me. I need your help."
"Sure! Just wait a moment, I need to take a shower and then change my clothes. Is that okay for you?"
"Ugh, whatever. I'll wait for you in my Recreation Room then. Don't be too long."
Chris could only nod before stepping into the shower, keeping his head outside it to avoid getting it in his mouth and dying from the incentive. After that, Chris put on a white t-shirt, blue sweatpants, and matching flip-flops, feeling a little fresher but still hungry. While the situation was bad, Chris was grateful there were changes of clothes and that he wouldn't have to wear the same as yesterday, which made him uncomfortable.
By the time he left his Recreation Room and headed to Wesker's, the blond man immediately opened the door and invited him in. It was a surprise to Chris that Wesker's Recreation Room was a laboratory, which made him seriously question Albert's talent. Was he a doctor like George or a scientist like Sherry? And if so, what kind of person in a white coat would he be?
Chris noticed that Wesker had also just finished showering, judging by his wet hair and change of clothes. He was wearing a blue dress shirt, gray pants, and brown shoes, without socks.
"Thank you for coming, Chris. I appreciate your cooperation. Would you like to come in?"
"Of course, Wesker. If you don't mind."
"Come on in then. Leave the door open when you enter."
Redfield proceeded to enter and took a seat on a black velvet sofa that was part of a small sitting room, something like Leon's bedroom.
"Let's get straight to the point, Chris. I want you to know that I have no interest in making any connection with any of you. I just want answers, and I hope you'll be nice enough to give them to me, okay?"
Chris raised an eyebrow and smiled, a clear sign of displeasure at Albert's audacity.
"Well, maybe you should be a little nicer.Maybe you would like to become the second son of a bitch guts I hate, and to be honest, I don't like working with people who don't know how to say please."
"I'm not one to beg, Chris."
"I'm not one to give in, Wesker."
Wesker knew that his first approach could define his relationship with the Ultimate Soldier during his stay, so it was best to analyze his words and use them carefully.
"Well, well. I've gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm Albert Wesker, or at least that's what the credentials I'm carrying say. I'd like to know... what others have told you about me. I bet you've lost your memory too, haven't you? Though not as severely as I have."
There was doubt in the way Wesker was speaking, and Chris even sensed fear.
"I'm only asking for myself, Wesker. Perhaps you should be the one going out there looking for your own answers. I'm not your errand boy."
"Okay, okay. Perhaps that wasn't the best first approach. Let me rephrase my question... Have you obtained any information from the other participants that implicates us? Because I have." Wesker seemed uneasy, his face flushed, perhaps from exhaustion. "I was told that you and I were practically inseparable. I was your superior... and you were my right-hand man, but I don't remember anything."
"Hmm... that's the same information I received. Apparently, you and I worked together. To be honest... I have no idea what my life was like during Raccoon City, I don't know who you are, and I don't have much information about my past either. I'm sorry, Wesker, but I don't think I can help you."
"So we're on the same page, then? Damn it, and here I was thinking I could get something useful out of this... I don't even know what my fucking talent is. All I know is that I could be a doctor, someone who works in medicine... or even someone like Sherry, which terrifies me."
Chris knew Wesker's case was more serious, but not to this extent.
"What do you remember, Wesker? About your past."
"I don't have a past, Chris!" Wesker exclaimed in frustration. "I don't have a past, plain and simple. I don't know what talent I have, I have no idea who I was before all this shit! And, I don't know why, but I don't like these nightmares. I'm sorry to waste your time, Chris... You can go now."
"I guess we can't delve into the relationship you and I had, can we? I'd like to believe... I'd like to believe that you and I were good friends, the kind who went out for drinks on weekends at the bar and knew how to keep things professional."
"That doesn't mean we can't start over. How about we put aside my initial attitude towards you, and you allow me to introduce myself?"
Wesker thought it would be for the best to start from scratch.
"I don't see what the problem is."
And so Albert sighed, preparing to set his ego aside and trying to appear as friendly and warm as possible.
"Well, well... um... I'm Albert Wesker. About my talent... I'm not entirely sure about it right now and... damn... this is more complicated than I thought..."
Chris noticed Albert's discomfort and approached him, extending his hand to shake it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Albert. I'm Chris Redfield, you can call me Chris. I'm the Ultimate Soldier. If you need any help... call me, okay?"
Chris's smile gave the man of unknown talent a strange feeling, a faint intuition that he had seen Chris express himself this way before. It made his stomach flutter, but not in an unpleasant way; rather, it seemed to bring him a certain pleasure.
And it was the reason he was smiling...
"If you want to talk to someone, Chris... I know I'm not good at giving advice, but I'm a great listener."
"You want to talk, Albert? Considering that you and I could die right now, only to be found tomorrow morning by someone else."
"Isn't that fascinating, Chris? Knowing that death is breathing down our necks. How will you spend your last moments knowing that you don't even have the present secured?"
"How do you want me to spend them, Albert? Or should I say... Wesker?"
"You can call me whatever you like, Chris."
And that exchange of smiles.
It was dangerous.