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Wearing White Will Make the Blood Look Pretty

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March 7, 2009

 

            He didn’t know what pain felt like anymore. Or to put it accurately, he couldn’t differentiate the pain from anything else. Every cell and nerve was on fire with it. every thought and every feeling was oppressed by it. It was all that consumed him, in his mind and in his body.

He never could have imagined the feeling of this much agony. He never could have imagined the way things would turn out.

How could he have failed? All that careful planning, all the countless hours spent researching, all of his hard work…destroyed. Reduced to ashes. Just like he was. He supposed that’s what made healing all the more excruciating. He thought he had died. He should have died. He wished he had died. If only to escape the torture of slowly coming back together.

After falling in the volcano and getting hit with a rocket launcher his body had been reduced to scorched skin cells and molecular bacteria. He shouldn’t have been able to survive yet the Uroboros virus had mutated the DNA in his cells; giving them the ability to regenerate and sustain life even in the most critical condition.

In any other circumstance he’d be absolutely fascinated and smug with the idea of being indestructible. But at the moment, he wished for anything but this excruciating existence. He even wished for death. It was like he could feel every charred particle of matter that made up his body slowly and agonizingly dragging along the ground toward a collective black mass. He wanted to scream but his throat hadn’t formed yet. Neither had his eyes or nose. He could see nothing, he could say nothing and he could feel nothing but pain.

It was pure torment. And he had no idea how long it was going to last. For all he knew days had gone by since his battle with Chris Redfield and Sheva Alomar. Or perhaps it had been months. Or even years. It certainly felt like years with each slow crawl of scar tissue across the coals that served as his only measure of time.

He frequently asked himself how much longer he’d have to endure this hell. How much longer until he could move and feel the ground beneath him. He didn’t know how much of his body had regenerated so far but he sensed he was healing a bit faster with each passing moment. Not much faster by any means but a little. He figured his cells were slowly getting stronger the more time passed. At least he hoped that to be the case if only to soothe his conscious that this torture wouldn’t last forever.

But it indeed felt like forever before he could finally gain a semblance of his being. Until he could finally twitch a muscle and a finger. And it felt like an eternity more before he felt the presence of his eyes on his face and then his nose. Even longer still before it was functionally releasing haggard breaths with each staggering rise of his chest. Even though he could feel his eyes he could not open them yet, for they felt melted shut and crested in black tar.

How many more days had passed before he could finally open them? How many more eternities stretched on before he could finally see with them? Before he could finally part his blistered lips and let out his first cry of pain?

It had felt like an everlasting infinity. Like several lifetimes had passed in this cycle of misery and suffering that would never end.

But one day it did.

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He was finally whole again but it took him eons to actually feel that way. He spent hours lying in the ashes of the volcano, staring up at the sky with glazed eyes. His body was almost completely mended, save for raw patches of blistered skin here and there. His immune system was depleted and his ribs were visible under the layer of soot that covered him . He was in his normal human body. All traces of Uroboros seemed gone. But he could still feel it within him, crawling underneath the surface, trying to rebuild and gather strength to survive. He felt weak and exhausted. He no longer felt the unbearable agony tearing through his body but his bones still screamed and his muscles still burned.

It was a while before he could move, to roll on his stomach and crawl out of that pit of hell. A pond of lava had been mere inches from where he had regenerated and he could feel the sweltering heat on his bare skin even as he gained more distance from it.

After what seemed like another long lapse of time he was able to climb out of the volcano. He took a moment of respite at his small accomplishment before slowly making his way down the barren slopes.

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He continued to make his way across whatever continent the plane had crashed on. Was he still in Africa? He could only assume as much. As the sun on his skin felt just as hot as the volcano. And he shuddered at the memory of how it felt to fall into the lava. He had no clothes to protect him, no shoes to ease his wobbled stagger, and no weapons to defend himself. He was completely vulnerable, his body still wasn’t completely healed. The virus inside him was weak and it seemed it had used the last of its strength to regenerate his body back together. He presumed it would be a very long time before he was at the peak of what he used to be before this whole cockup. Though Uroboros had been the pinnacle of evolution and had made him stronger than ever before, even it still had its limits.

And it seemed like those limits were maxed out for the time being.

He didn’t know how much further he could walk on. Every step strained his muscles, every stumble scared his bare feet. He was exhausted, extremely famished, and dying of thirst.  He knew the virus was the reason he could last longer than a human could without those essentials but he yearned to have those resources right about now. In his condition he didn’t know how long he could go without food or water especially after all the time that had passed.

He was at his weakest point. Anyone or anything could overtake him right now and he wouldn’t have a chance against them. Through all his depletion and fatigue, he knew this. But that didn’t stop him from having only one objective consume his mind.

Killing Chris Redfield.

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Three days later he stumbled across a domestic airport. It was well into the night. After three days filled with enduring the heat of the sun and fighting off wild lions and continuing onward without even taking time to rest, he was unmistakably exhausted. But he hardly paid heed to what his body was begging for, what his head was screaming for. Because Chris Redfield was the only thing he cared about getting his hands around right now. He didn’t care that he was starving, or tired, or dehydrated, or that the last lion that tried to eat him left brutal scratches along his back that still weren’t healing. He only cared about what came next and that was the plane on the runway.

The airport was small and the night was inky black allowing him to hide easily in its shadows. He was able to sneak into the vicinity and up to the luggage carts where one was left unattended while the workers were guiding a plane in that just landed. There didn’t seem to be many employees that worked here. Even security was stretched thin making it easier for him to dodge through their blind spots and approach a stationary small plane. When he made sure no one was looking he climbed into the cargo stowage and hid in the very back of the unit. He tucked himself behind stacks of suitcases and luggage and heard the voices of passengers and flight attendants outside boarding the plane.

A thud rattled the floor as more baggage was thrown into the stowage followed by voices speaking in Swahili. He wasn’t really listening to them as he was trying to control his breathing so that they didn’t hear him.

After a while they stopped loading luggage and the back of the plane closed up. He could hear the engines whirring and he knew they were about to take off. He didn’t know where this plane was headed but he’d figure that out once they stopped.

He calmly let out a slow exhale. It was the first time that he could finally take a small reprieve, at least until they landed.

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During the flight Wesker took the liberty of helping himself to all the luggage that surrounded him. He was able to find some clothes that fit him but not exactly to his taste. It seemed most of these bags belonged to colorful tourists. He did find a green duffle bag, no doubt belonging to a soldier and found more suitable clothes to wear compared to the tan kaki’s and floral shirts he found earlier. The duffle bag had a pair of black combat boots along with extra pairs of military fatigues and a black jacket. Though they were a size small Wesker didn’t waste any time putting them on. He was already cold as it was but since the plane had climbed altitude the air was getting chillier and thinner, making it hard to breathe.

The jacket was helping but his body didn’t feel like it was producing enough heat to keep himself warm. His body was still enervated and having trouble keeping his organs functional.

Wesker dumped a bunch of clothes in a pile and arrange the suitcases in a makeshift shelter before settling down in it and crossing his arms over his chest. He’d just have to toughen it out until the next airport.

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He didn’t know how much time past before the plane landed. He wished he could have slept but it had been so cold that he had been shivering the entire way. When the plane got lower to the ground the temperature got a bit warmer but Wesker still felt miserable. He hadn’t been able to find any food or water back here and on top of that he could feel every individual blood vein burning in his bloodshot eyes. It was giving him a massive headache. And when the back door of the cargo unit opened it made Wesker cringe and shrink away from the light.

He could hear voices. They chatted as they unpacked the luggage and Wesker grew more alert as he realized he needed to move before they saw him.

If it had been any other time before his pathetic present state, he would have simply taken them out. But he knew he didn’t have the strength at the moment and it wouldn’t do well to get cornered by the airport security if something went wrong. He waited until the voices receded and that’s when he quickly moved out of his hiding spot and scrambled out of the back of the plane while the employee’s backs where turned toward their luggage cart.

It was daylight out and the light from the sun nearly made him blind but he moved as fast as he could past the plane engines and toward the back exit of the airport. He went in and climbed the first flight of stairs to his right. He went through the door at the top and found himself in the hustle and bustle of the terminals.

“Excuse me.” said a women to his left. Wesker turned to her and saw she was wearing a security uniform. She was giving him a questioning look and before she could ask what he was doing coming out of the emergency exit, Wesker quickly turned away and headed down the atrium before she could say another word.

Wesker put as much distance as he could between them before he was certain he was completely out of her sight. He stopped to catch his breath a moment, quietly cursing that he was already winded. After he pulled himself together he looked up and saw the flight displays hanging from the ceiling. Each flight and time was listed along with the city. And most importantly, the date.

Wesker’s eyes slightly widened at it.

October 8, 2009.

Eight months.

Eight months had passed since his fight with Chris and Sheva. It had taken eight months for him to come back together. Eight months of agony.

Well, at least it hadn’t been years… Wesker thought to himself darkly. But it sure had felt like it. And now he was going to get payback. He was going to find Chris and he was going to make him wish he’d never been born.

Wesker tried to rationalize his situation. He tried to think where Chris was likely to be by now. After Africa, Chris definitely would have reported back to the BSAA, back to HQ where they were based out of the United Kingdom. Unless he was assigned another mission, that’s were Chris would be.

Wesker set his sights on the next flight to the UK.

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He snuck from flight to flight on the back of the planes much like he did with the first one. And during each of his flights he went through the baggage that occupied his space. In one of the briefcases he found a laptop. Interesting. Considering most people had those on their carry on. He booted it up and easily hacked into it. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the plane had a Wi-Fi signal

It didn’t take him long to find out that the laptop didn’t belong to anyone important. Just some college student that was into watching anime and shopping for cheap college books on amazon. He typed the BSAA main page into the search engine and made quick work of logging in under the radar. He searched into their record assignments and looked under files starting with R for Redfield.

He quickly found two Redfield’s and clicked onto the file that said Chris.

When the file opened it pretty much read every assignment that Chris had been on including Africa. Not a detail seemed to be left out about what happened in Africa including how Albert Wesker was eliminated.

Wesker nearly snapped the laptop in two but he kept his calm and scrolled down the page to the most recent entry. He nearly froze at what he read.

Chris Redfield was currently reassigned to Washing D.C. for a briefing with the President of the United States and the task force of Homeland Security.

You’re fucking kidding me.”

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Wesker was livid. Not only did it take him twice as long to revert his destination but now he was also even more worse for wear. Throughout his entire journey he didn’t pause once to take care of himself. So caught up in anger, and revenge, he forgot all thoughts of hunger, pain, and exhaustion. The only thing on his mind was killing Chris Redfield and making him feel just as much pain as Wesker had felt when he fell in the lava. As much pain as he was feeling right now.

Wesker choked out a cough in the middle of his thoughts of vengeance. His ribcage convulsed and his bones felt like they were rattling because of how much he was shivering. His throat felt raw and his jaw tight. When his coughing fit ceased his body ached and throbbed as if he just got the shit kicked out of him.

He knew he was unwell. He knew he was on the edge of death’s door, but he was still standing and he wasn’t going to fall until Chris was falling with him this time.

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It was another day before he finally arrived in Washington. Wesker was a little delirious by that point but he never lost sight of his goal. It wasn’t too hard to get himself out of the airport and into a cab. He had stolen some cash from passengers’ luggage in the freight hold so he had enough to get him to where he was going. When he had hacked into the BSAA database he had found all of Chris Redfield’s information including the address where he was staying.

Wesker didn’t really have any plans beyond that. He knew he was going to get his revenge he just hadn’t really thought of the details. He didn’t have any weapons on him but he did have the element of surprise. He always imagined ripping Chris’s heart out of his chest with his bare hand. He did it to Spencer and he remembered how wickedly satisfying it had been. He knew doing it to Chris would only be ten times better.

It grew late by the time the cab got to his destination. He over paid the driver and didn’t wait for change as he got out of the car and staggered toward Chris Redfield’s apartment. But just before he reached the front of the building the door opened and two men stepped out. Wesker quickly hid in the nearby alleyway, it was easy for him to slip into the shadows at this time of night. He planned to slip past the men once they turned away but then he caught sight of their faces.

They were both tall and well-muscled. One of them had longish blond hair. The other had short brown hair and he was even more muscular then the blond. It only took Wesker a second to realize that the brown haired one was none other than Chris Redfield himself. Wesker’s breath froze in his lungs.

This was his chance. Chris was only a few feet away from him. He could catch him and then….

And then what?

He didn’t have any weapons. And Wesker wasn’t exactly in any shape to wrestle the man into submission. He still hadn’t fully recovered from his wounds and if anything all this traveling had only made his condition worse. Plus, Chris had company. He wouldn’t be able to take them both on alone.

Chris and his friend were already walking away down the sidewalk and Wesker moved from the shadows to slip past the apartment door.

He had a new plan. He would wait for Chris to come back and then surprise him in his own home. And even better, Wesker knew Chris well enough to be certain that he had some guns stashed in his living space. Wesker could arm himself and then easily get his revenge on the man.

Wesker took a glance at the name rack by the door and found which numbered apartment Chris had under his fake name. Finding the assigned fake name for Chris had been easy. All related information to his records was in the same file Wesker had hacked into. The BSAA really needed to modify their cyber security. Wesker moved down the lobby and up the stairs taking longer than average due to his weak condition. He had never hated climbing stairs this much in his life but he assured himself that in the end it would all be worth it.

When he finally reached Chris’s door he was out of breath and barely standing on his feet. There were black spots appearing in his vision and he shook his head in an attempt to shake them away. His eyes eventually cleared and he felt around the door frame for a key, already finding the apartment to be locked. But if Wesker knew Chris then he knew the man would always keep a spare hidden somewhere within easy access just in case he lost his.

He searched the top of the doorframe and broke out into a smirk when he found the spare key.

Always so predictable… Wesker told himself. Though, he hadn’t predicated how things would turn out between them in Africa. Perhaps he shouldn’t underestimated Redfield again. This time he had element of surprise but he still needed to be careful.

Wesker unlocked the door and slipped inside. The place was completely dark but flipping on the light switch quickly alleviated that. He was in a hallway that branched out into the kitchen, living room, a small office, and a bedroom. Wesker explored the apartment; the place wasn’t big but it wasn’t small either. The kitchen was adequate with an island and three barstools on the side. The living room was descent and spacious. There was one bedroom that was big and lined with tall windows and there was a small office space at the other end of the hall past the living room. And in that office was where Wesker found a handgun stashed away in the compartment of the desk along with ammunition.

Wesker took them and paced through the apartment coming up with a plan on how all of this was going to go down. Should he wait in the living room? No, the bedroom would be better. Chris would come in completely unsuspecting and it would be best to catch him right before he fell asleep.

A cruel smile played on Wesker’s lips as he thought of ways to make Chris suffer right up until he was begging to be killed. Wesker would drag out Chris’s fears first. He would surprise him by appearing out of the shadows of the corner, holding the gun to his head so that he didn’t get any funny ideas. Chris would be speechless at first and the horror in his eyes would be wider than the moon shining in through the window. Wesker would laugh and then Chris would eventually snap out of it and try to fight. But before he would lunge, Wesker would blow a cap in his knee or perhaps both knees. Yes, definitely both knees. And once Chris was crippled on the floor unable to move, Wesker would take him apart piece by piece. And he’d save his heart for last. After Chris is rasping and choking on his own blood with the final moments of his life flashing before his eyes, Wesker would shove his hand in his chest and rip out his heart so fast it would still be beating. Then Wesker would make him watch as he slowly squeezed until it was reduced to nothing but a clump of gore.

Then Chris would die…

And it was all going to be so perfect.

A thud snapped Wesker out of his illusions and he quickly turned down the lights and sank back into the shadows just in time before the door to the entrance gently swung open. Every muscle in Wesker’s body drew up tight like a string. His breath came out shakily and he worried that he might have forgotten to relock the door on his way in, which would give Chris an early warning that something was amiss. The shadow in the doorway halted, as if confirming Wesker’s fears. It was in that instant Wesker knew his plans were already deteriorating. He didn’t have a chance to retreat to the bedroom before the front door swung open and now he was stuck hiding in the dark end of the hallway. He already suspected things weren’t going to go the way he pictured them but he had hoped it would turn out better than just a single shot to Chris’s head.

Though, it seemed that would be his only option at this point if he wanted this to end as smoothly as he intended it too.

Wesker rose his gun up at the shadow standing in the doorway. He was frustrated that this would all end too soon. The moment Chris turned that light switch on, Wesker would take his shot, if only to see his stunned expression at the sight of a dead man resurrected before his brains stained the door behind him. If one moment was all Wesker got, then he would relish it forever. But despite his intent, Wesker’s hand was shaking and his vision seemed foggy.

He blamed it on the darkness and he told himself that once the lights flashed on there would be no quiver of hesitation, only the determination of resolve. But deep down, a small part of him knew that was a lie and that the real truth was something more primal. Something he’s never felt in ages.

He was scared.

And he knew that if he didn’t kill Chris with that first shot then Chris was going to kill him. For good this time. He couldn’t ignore the fact that he was weaker then Chris right now. He knew it. And Chris would know it too once he saw him. Wesker had to kill Chris and he had to do it fast. Otherwise, it was Africa all over again.

Wesker took in a deep breath to try and steady himself but he was still shaking. He told himself that he could do this. It was only going to take one shot. And then everything would be over and he could gloat over that muscle-head’s dead corpse afterwards.

The lights flicked on and Wesker went perfectly stiff. His finger twitched on the trigger but he found his hand had succumbed to the same paralysis as the rest of his body. His lungs felt empty and his eyes burned from how long he stared without blinking.

Standing in the doorway was Leon Scott Kennedy.

Chapter Text

“I died once. I will never forget the cold, dark fingers of death reaching out for me.” – Albert Wesker.

 

For a split second neither man moved. Wesker was at a complete loss for words and actions. He had been fully prepared for Chris to be the one coming through that door. But seeing someone he didn’t recognize had left him frozen in shock. And the same could be said for the other man, who looked just as baffled as Wesker.

But after that split second of confusion, things quickly turned into a blur of movement that Wesker had trouble keeping up with. It was as if Leon was in front of the door one moment and in the next, had suddenly appeared in front of Wesker. Before Wesker could register how fast he got there, his back was slammed into the wall. Wesker tried to recover and counter back with a kick but Leon kept him bracketed in place with his own body; his arm laying over Wesker’s chest like a bar of steel, forcing the air out of his lungs. His free hand grabbed one of Wesker’s and pinned it against the wall. Wesker struggled in his hold and pointed his gun toward Leon’s head. He pulled the trigger.

Leon quickly jerked his head out of the way as the bullet rang through the apartment. He brought his head back forward and bashed it against Wesker’s. A pained grunt escaped Wesker’s lips and he momentarily blacked out as Leon threw him to the side. Wesker tumbled onto the living room carpet and struggled to get back on his feet. The gun had cluttered uselessly a couple feet away and he made a grab for it but then Leon quickly stepped on his hand and picked up the gun first.

Leon cocked the pistol toward Wesker’s head and a resounding click cut the silence between them. Wesker tensed and his body remained completely motionless aside from his harsh panting.

“Who are you?” came Leon’s voice, a bit husky and heavy from the fight. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

Wesker’s inhalations faltered at that.

This is Chris’s apartment, Wesker wanted to correct him. But he didn’t, instead he remained mutely still. He was confused with the whole situation. He didn’t know why this man was here instead of Chris. Where the hell was Chris?

Before he could further speculate, Leon moved forward and planted a boot on his back, pressing down firmly to slam Wesker on the floor. Every muscle and bone throbbed in protest and it felt as though the aftermath of the fight was just now taking a toll on his body. A cry of pain slipped past his lips; weak and faint as if his own voice tapered in defeat. He was embarrassed by it himself. Never in his life full of preeminence and brilliance did he think he’d go out with a whimper.

But at the sound of it Leon eased off and even stepped away. There was a hint of concern in his expression but he didn’t lower his gun. He studied Wesker for a few moments, his eyes traveling over his body. Wesker suspected he had noticed the blood seeping through his clothes. The tyrant didn’t see it himself, but he could feel where his shirt was damp and how the pain in his back was worse than before. He also caught sight of patches of blood decorating the floors of the apartment and no doubt Leon had too.

Leon suddenly crouched low and leaned toward him. Wesker automatically stiffened, feeling the pain intensify as his muscles locked up. He felt a hand on his back, steady and strong, making sure he wasn’t going to make any sudden moves. Wesker was resisting the urge to knock Leon away but he knew if he tried to fight any further, he would only end up hurting himself more.

The hand on his back brushed under the hem of his jacket and shirt, rising it up slightly to reveal his blotched colored skin that still wasn’t completely healed from the burns and the raw scars from his fight with the lion in Africa. He could feel his wounds openly bleeding and the exposure to the cold air had him shivering.

“Shit.” Leon breathed, standing up and moving away. The skepticism in his tone disclosed he knew that Wesker’s wounds didn’t come from their recent scuffle. “I’m calling an ambulance,” were his next words, but they seemed more directed to himself then to Wesker. Wesker heard them nonetheless and his head shot up at the mention of an ambulance.

He couldn’t let himself get taken to a hospital. Chances are it wouldn’t be long before someone identified him and soon after that the world would know where he was. The BSAA would want to get their hands on him along with a number of other companies that would no doubt use him as a means to an end. For research or otherwise leverage in whatever political gains they could get by using his body. He personally knew a number of people who wanted to kill him but there were even more who wanted to do worse than that. If he was declared alive it would no doubt be the end of his life.

Wait!”

Leon froze and so did Wesker. He surprised himself with the outburst. His voice sounded nothing like he remembered it. It was dry and ragged, barely surfacing over a whisper. He reminded himself that it had been nearly eight months since he’s said a word and just as long since he had a drink of water. So, perhaps he shouldn’t be too surprised that he sounded so pathetic.

Leon turned toward him and Wesker felt his throat tighten up on the spot. He had to do something quick. He had to say something, anything…

“Don’t take me to a hospital, please…” His voice was still strained and he was irritated with himself to hear a tremor in his own words. Even more so that he was begging. He didn’t recall ever begging for something in his entire life. But he knew if he wasn’t willing to do anything it took to get himself out of this, it would be the end.

“I…I thought you were someone else.” Wesker managed to huff, the air in his lungs felt small and he gasped, struggling to get more into them. “…I was looking for someone.” That wasn’t a lie. Which was probably why the words flowed a little easier. “…someone who tried to kill me. I was going to… I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s obvious this was the wrong place to look…”  Wesker finished, hoping against all odds that Leon would be satisfied enough.

“How did you get this address? Who gave it to you?” questioned Leon, his gun was still aimed in Wesker’s direction.

“…it doesn’t matter… It was the wrong information.” Wesker said, looking paler by the second. Leon was silent for a minute which seemed like an hour but he finally made a noncommittal sound, as if letting it slide for now. Wesker took that as a step forward in the right direction.

“If I’m taken to a hospital, they’ll find me there.” Wesker uttered, his voice sounded fainter and he knew he needed to get out of here soon if he didn’t want to leave his fate in the hands of some stranger. “I’ll leave… just don’t tell anyone I was here… please.” He was begging again and he was disgusted that he had to reduce himself to this. But he was out of options and out of ideas.

Leon lowered his gun and once again crouched down at his side. The harsh lines in his expression had smoothed out into something calmer. And when he spoke his voice had lowered sympathetically.

“Alright, take it easy...” he consoled, probably to quell Wesker’s nerves. “I’m not going to hurt you as long as you don’t do anything stupid.”

A wave of relief washed over Wesker and he let out a liberated breath of air. He was beginning to think that lady luck was finally looking out for him. But then the world started spinning and his vision became distorted.

What the fuck is happening? A panicked thought whisked though his mind before he realized that his body couldn’t move. It was shutting down. And at the worst possible time.

No. NO. NO! the desperate voice in his head was shouting at him to run. But he couldn’t run. Let alone stay conscious.

Everything went black.

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Birds were chirping and somewhere in the background there was a faint clattering of dishes. Wesker awoke before the rest of his body did. His limbs and eyelids felt heavy and stiff. It was all he could do to even twitch a finger. His senses were slowly coming back to him. There was another noise that droned faintly in his ear. A monotone voice that followed a script of words about the daily grind.

A TV. The news was on.

A warm scent hit Wesker’s nose and had his dry mouth instantly salivating. It smelled buttery and peppery but there was also a tinge of fruit in the mix. A nearby thud had his lethargic body jolting in alarm. His baser instincts helping him to open his eyes and assess the possible threat close by. His vision was a blur of colors and he had to blink a few times to finally get a clear picture of what was in front of him.

He was on a couch. A very comfortable couch with a heap of blankets and pillows. There was a TV hanging on the wall in front of him broadcasting the local weather report. A coffee table sat between him and the television and on that coffee table was a plate of food along with a glass of orange juice. Steam was rising up from the scrambled eggs and buttermilk biscuits.

At first Wesker wasn’t sure what to make of this. He couldn’t remember where he was or how he got here. Was this some sort of weird dream?

“It’s gonna get cold.” said voice to his right. Wesker shifted his eyes and saw the man from last night reclining in a chair next to the couch.

Suddenly, a gust of images whorled through his brain as he quickly remembered every detail of what happened from the day prior.

“You-” Wesker began, his voice collapsing like dust.

Leon got up and walked out of the room, almost as if he couldn’t be bothered to listen to the whispers of a dying man. But then he was back a minute later with a tall glass of water. He set it on the table beside the orange juice.

“Here. You’re probably dehydrated.”

Wesker scrutinized it, unsure if he should readily drink something from a stranger. Leon must have sensed his inner qualms. Because he slowly sat down on the coffee table.

“Look,” began Leon, his tone calm and… almost conciliating in a way. Like he was approaching a wounded animal. “I thought about what you said last night and… I just wanted to let you know that I didn’t call an ambulance. You seemed like you were genuinely scared of someone finding you…”

Any other time Wesker would have killed a man for calling him scared. But he wasn’t going to deny what Leon said. Part of him was scared. Scared of being captured. Of dying again. But what he was really scared of, was never being able to exact his revenge on Chris Redfield.

Leon scratched the back of his neck and tilted his head, looking like he was mulling over what to say.

“I don’t know what’s going on, or why someone tried to kill you but…” and Leon looked at him candidly. “…you can stay here. If you want.” He offered, albeit reluctantly. “Just until you get better.”

Wesker didn’t know how to process those words. Was he even being sincere?

“Why?” Wesker croaked. Leon cringed at the sound of it. He picked up the glass of water and held it out to him.

“Will you please drink some water already? Your voice is making my ears bleed.” Leon muttered. Wesker glowered but reached out to take the drink, only to have the weight of the glass slip out of his feeble fingers.

“Shit.” Leon cursed, snatching it up before it could hit the floor. Only a few drops sloshed out. Impressive reflexes. He sighed. “You really are in bad shape, aren’t you?” he queried, though it was obvious he didn’t expect to get an answer. He knelt on the floor, drawing closer to Wesker.

“Here.” said Leon, lifting the glass up in assistance. Wesker didn’t make a move. He’s never had anyone do this before and he was still doubtful if he could even trust this guy. Leon rolled his eyes at Wesker’ cynical expression. “Why, you asked. Well, maybe it’s because I know what it’s like to be stuck between a rock and a hard place with people trying to kill you.” spoke Leon, his voice reminiscence from prior experience. “Now, are you going to let all this stuff I served you go to waste? Or are you going to show your gratitude?”

Wesker’s jaw twitched at his condescending tone. Nobody gave him attitude like that. But it wasn’t like there was much he could do about it. He was practically on his death bed and it would be foolish to provoke the only person offering to help him. He parted his lips and Leon titled the glass against his mouth. A rush of cold water ran down his throat and the shock of it instantly had him coughing. Leon leaned away but that didn’t save him from getting wet.

Fuck…” Leon muttered to himself, using his sleeve as a towel. “Don’t tell me you have anything contagious.”

Wesker didn’t respond to that. And again, he doubted the other man expected him to. Leon put the glass aside. He picked up the plate of food and sat it on the edge of the sofa.

“Are you going to need help with this too? Or can you manage?”

Wesker scowled at the implication that he was helpless. He was stubbornly gazing down before he even realized it.

“Geez, what the fuck is your problem? I’m trying to help you here.” stated Leon, sounding perplexed with his behavior. But Wesker’s attention was drawn to something else. As he looked down his eyes caught sight of the clothes he was wearing. His hand moved up to tug at his shirt. These weren’t the military fatigues he had on last night. And he was now aware of the compressing feeling that was tight against his wounds. Bandages?

What the fuck.

He heard a snort of amusement beside him and he glanced at Leon.

“You’re reacting as if I cut you open and dissected you.” muttered Leon.

“…did you?” and he sounded so grave that Leon outrightly laughed this time.

“Paranoid much? And the answer is no. I’m a cop. Not a scientist.”

Wesker’s eyes slightly widened at that. A cop?

Leon considered him for a moment, probably spotting the panic that flited through his gaze.

“Well, I was a cop. What I do now is more off the record.” Leon explained.

Fucking hell. He was probably some sort of secret agent. Just what Wesker needed.

“By the way, I’m Leon.” Leon finally introduced himself, but he didn’t hold out his hand. He must have known Wesker still had aversions to this whole situation. “Do you mind giving me your name?”

Leon. Why did that name sound oddly familiar? Wesker could hardly pay it much thought as he deliberated on Leon’s question. Giving him his real name was just asking for trouble. He’d have to settle for a fake name until he could get back on his feet. And once he was back on his feet, then the world would once again tremble in fear at the mere mention of Albert Wesker.

“Al…ford….” Wesker struggled to come up with a name on the spot. He wanted to shoot himself for sounding indecisive.

“Alford?” drawled Leon curiously, rolling the name on his tongue. “Sounds strangely British.” and he gave Wesker a regarding look. “You kind of sound British too.”

“I’m not British.”

Leon chuckled.

“Whatever you say, cowboy.”

Wesker frowned but Leon didn’t see it, as he was already standing up and leaving the room.

“I have to go to work. Feel free to make yourself at home. Just don’t fuck anything up.”

How dare he talk to Wesker as if he was a child. It made Wesker want to throw the plate of food at the back of his head. Wesker was not a child. He was a menacing force to be reckoned with. A powerfully evolved immortal to the pathetic excuse of mankind. A god-

The sound of the front door clicking shut snapped him out of his ruminating, leaving nothing but the hum of the TV to keep him company.

He was surprised that Leon actually left him to his own devices. That man was far to trusting to be trustworthy and Wesker wouldn’t do well to let his guard down around the likes of him. He needed to get out of here. But first, he needed to get his strength back. Which meant eating this plate of food that Leon left behind.

Wesker reached for the fork, but upon doing so his entire right arm seized up from a pulled muscle.

Fuck.” Wesker groaned. All he did was lift his arm, and he couldn’t even do that properly. It was in that moment he realized why Leon so casually left him alone. It wasn’t that Leon trusted Wesker.

Wesker just wasn’t a threat.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Wesker gave up on eating after the first few attempted bites. Most of the food had ended up on the floor instead of his mouth. He was scowling, stomach growling but he didn’t want to waste any more energy by making more of a mess. He trained his eyes on the TV, a cooking channel had now come on and Wesker’s stomach growled even more at the sight of all that delicious glistening food. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, trying not to think about how hungry he was. He could still hear the food sizzling as it cooked on the show. He could still smell his breakfast teasing his nose. He wished he had the remote in his hand so he could at least turn the television off. At this point it was just tormenting him.

Wesker buried his face in his pillow.

This was a new kind of hell.

Thankfully he managed to doze off after a while with nothing but dreams of steak and roast beef to sustain his hunger. He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep but when he woke up, it was to the sound of a door opening and closing. Mr. Cavalier was back and it looked like he had more food with him.

Leon placed the food on the coffee table and stared at the barely touched breakfast.

“Doesn’t look like you made much of an effort.” Leon remarked. Wesker would’ve been angry at the comment, but he hurt too much to care. Leon read into the tyrant’s silence and his tone lost its ridicule.

“Sorry.” Leon apologized, leaning down to clean up Wesker’s earlier mess. “I probably shouldn’t have left you like that.”

“…it’s fine.” Wesker managed to mutter. It wasn’t like it was Leon’s job to take care of him anyway. The other man disappeared out of the room with the old plate of food, and Wesker thought he was left to fend for himself yet again, but then Leon soon returned.

He leaned back down and slid an arm under Wesker’s neck. Wesker went rigid and the flinch didn’t escape Leon’s attention.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

As if you could, Wesker wanted to retaliate but he sensed the lie in his own thoughts. He wasn’t the power house he used to be. So in reality… Leon really could hurt him if he wanted to. But the other man did no such thing. He moved Wesker into more of a sitting position.

“You’re probably not going to like this…” Leon spoke, his voice deeply soothing to Wesker’s ears. Perhaps it was because of the close proximity but Wesker felt something shock his cold lifeless heart with sparks of electricity.

“Just don’t cough it back in my face.” Leon continued, grimacing at the memory.

“What are you doing?” questioned Wesker, undecided between pushing him away or continuing to lean against him for support. Leon pulled the food he bought today closer towards them.

Oh… Realization dawned on Wesker. He convinced himself that he couldn’t possibly sink any lower then the pit of a volcano. So being hand fed was the last thing that could shred his dignity. Not that he had much of one anymore.

Whatever Leon bought, it was some sort of herbal rice and vegetable stir fry. The smell of it was almost intoxicatingly delectable. But after the first few bites, Wesker’s stomach began to churn. He elbowed Leon but he doubted it even fazed him.

“What’s wrong?” Leon asked. Wesker swallowed what remained in his mouth before doubling over.

“I’m going to be sick…”

Shit.” Leon cursed. He hauled him to his feet and pretty much had to drag him all the way down the hallway to the bathroom. Wesker barely made it to the toilet before he emptied what little there was in his stomach. He felt a hand rubbing his back before stopping to exam the hem of his shirt. “Fuck. I think you’re bleeding again.” announced Leon.

Wesker dry heaved. Fuck it. Just let him die already. If he couldn’t even consume food then how was he ever going to kill Chris?

“Come on, man. Try to relax.” Leon comforted, helping him get his breathing back under control.

“Fuck you…” Wesker huffed, spitting out a clot of bile.

“Keep talking. It’ll help even your breathing.” encouraged Leon.

Wesker was really starting to hate this guy.

//////////////////////////////////////////////

He leaned against the edge of the tub as it filled with warm water. The sound of the bathroom door gently creaked open as Leon walked back in with a handful of towels.

“You know, maybe later you could try eating again.” suggested Leon. Which was rational advice to let his stomach calm down first. Wesker’s skin blanched at the thought of eating again. It felt like he got kicked in the guts after throwing up and he wasn’t exactly eager to repeat the incident.

“No.” he out right refused.

“At least try some soup. It’ll be easier for you to digest.” Leon advised. “You want to get better. Don’t you?”

Was Leon his fucking mom now? Wesker fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Fine…”

Leon leaned over and turned off the tap.

“Do you need help getting in there?”

Well, he needed help with every little thing so far. Wesker didn’t try to hide the fact anymore. But that didn’t mean it was any easier to just accept it. He looked away from Leon before giving a stiff nod.

“I suppose you did this last night…” Wesker was saying, as Leon knelt down at his side to help him out of his clothes.

“All I did was bandage your wounds.” Leon clarified, the movement of his fingers was meticulously impersonal. “You’ve smelt like shit since you got here.”

Wesker’s eye twitched but he didn’t bother contradicting him. It was probably true. Leon got the shirt off him then soon came his pants and then his bandages. Wesker wasn’t modestly shy by any means, so he wasn’t exactly uncomfortable to be naked in front of someone. After all, he knew he was the prime example of what a god should look like.

But when Leon helped him up to guide him into the water, Wesker caught sight of himself in the mirror above the sink for the first time in eight months. His breath lodged in his throat and for a second he wasn’t sure if that was actually a mirror, or just some incongruous trick of the light. Because fuck. He didn’t even recognize that person staring back at him.

He looked like a starved ghost of a man suffering from anemia. He looked… so weak and frail. It was no wonder Leon took pity on him and offered to let him stay. Wesker quickly turned his head away. It was almost too painful to look at.

“I didn’t realize…” Wesker was muttering to himself. Leon paused and glanced at him. “…how bad it was.”

Leon’s eyes shifted towards the mirror before settling back on Wesker.

“What? Your reflection?” inquired Leon, trying to piece the puzzle pieces together. “…how long has it been since you looked at yourself?”

“…eight months.”

Eight months?” Leon said in disbelief. “What were you? A prisoner of war?”

Wesker was silent and Leon shook his head.

“Never mind. You don’t have to answer that.” he said, probably just realizing how insensitive that was. He stopped talking as he helped Wesker into the bathtub. Wesker hissed as the warm water touched his raw wounds. It took him a while to settle into it and relax his body. Something splashed into the water by his legs and he stared over at Leon who was pouring some sort of powder out of a bag.

“What is that?” Wesker question, looking apprehensive.

“They’re espean salts.”

“Don’t put those in!” Wesker quickly rejected. He didn’t want to think about what salt would do to his open injuries.

“Well, I doubt scrubbing your skin is going to feel any better. Besides, this will clean out your wounds and have you smelling like lavender.”

Wesker wanted to punch him.

But instead, he was inclined to agree and he sank lower in the tub. This way, he didn’t have to forfeit the energy in washing himself. He could just let the salts do all the work. Even so, he was already starting to feel the itching burn on his cuts and he knew it was only bound to get worse.

“How long do I have to stay in here?” asked Wesker bleakly.

“Until it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Leon replied. Wesker doubted he even read the directions but he was too tired to call him out on it. Leon set the bag aside and turned around to lean his back against the porcelain edge.

“In the meantime, I can keep you company if you want.” he offered. “… and make sure you don’t drown.” He added in a mumble. Wesker gritted his teeth.

“I’m not that helpless.” He snapped. Leon gave him a look.

“Says the guy who can’t feed himself.” Leon countered. Wesker narrowed his eyes but couldn’t really argue there.

“…why are you helping me?” questioned Wesker after a few moments of silence.

“I thought I told you. I know what it’s like…”

“-to be stuck between a rock and a hard place. Yeah, you did.” Wesker impatiently finished for him. “…is that the only reason? Or was it also because you felt sorry for me?”

He saw Leon roll his shoulders in a careless shrug.

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

Well, Wesker had to commend him for his brutal honesty.

“I broke into your apartment and pointed a gun at you…” Wesker began.

“You didn’t kill me.” Leon pointed out. Before pausing to add, “You had that chance right when I opened the door.”

Wesker gave him an analyzing stare.

“Even so, you seem pretty tolerant when it comes to threats against your life. Do people point guns at you often?”

Leon chuckled.

“More than you think.”

Definitely a secret agent, Wesker concluded in his head.

“And what about you?” Leon turned the subject on him. “Do you usually find yourself in near death experiences?”

Now that Wesker thought about it… yes. He did. How many times has he ‘died’ and come back to life? Would this make it the third?

“Yes.” was Wesker’s answer to Leon’s question.

Leon raised his eyebrow.

“Do I even want to know what you do for a living?” he joked, trying to lighten Wesker’s mood. But Wesker felt a hamstring tug at his chest.

No, he wanted to say. Because if I told you, you’d probably try to kill me.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Later that evening Wesker was back on the couch in fresh new clothes and bandages. He didn’t know what time it was but the crescent moon was shining through the window and Leon had retired to his bedroom about an hour ago. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position and winced when the movement irritated his wounds. He focused on his breathing to help him relax, slipping his eyes closed and seeking out sleep. But images of Leon popping up in his head was making that nearly impossible.

The other man had been so careful when he helped rewrap the bandages around Wesker’s wounds. His touch gentle. His voice soothing. The memories of his caring attentions was all Wesker could think about. He only wished that those memories were tangible enough to grasp in his hand. So that he could crush them in his fist and throw them against the wall.

There was only room in his head for vengeance. And he wasn’t about to let some suave secret agent take up unnecessary space.

A noise broke the silence in the background. Wesker’s ears strained at the sound of the toilet flushing and a door snapping shut, before footsteps drifted down the hallway and into the living room. Wesker was still, even his breathing had stilled. He was getting the impression that Leon was surveying his surroundings, as if he didn’t completely trust Wesker’s helpless appearance despite all that earlier bravado. But Wesker’s impressions of him were continually proven wrong as Leon cleared his throat and broke the silence in the room.

“You ok?” the agent asked. How did he know that Wesker wasn’t asleep?

“I’m awake.” Wesker responded instead, trying to be impertinent. He heard Leon’s footsteps draw closer until they stopped beside the couch. A shift of fabric brushed off Wesker’s head as Leon pulled the blanket away.

“You’re shivering.”

Wesker hadn’t even realized that he was until Leon brought it up, but he was indeed shaking despite being buried under the blanket and a couple pillows.

“I’ve got the heat on.” stated Leon, as if Wesker was just being unreasonably cold at will. He rose his hand and Wesker would have smacked it away if he wasn’t trembling so bad. Fingertips brushed across his forehead in a barely-there-touch. “You’re like ice.”

“Get away from me.” Wesker grumbled, but it didn’t have the typical bite of a threat. Which was probably why Leon didn’t take it seriously. He grasped Wesker’s hand and pulled him up.

“Come on.” Leon urged, guiding Wesker’s arm around his shoulders. Wesker tried to pull away but Leon was stronger then he was. So instead, Wesker made his body go limp. Forcing Leon to carry all his weight down the hall. Which probably wasn’t much of a challenge for that athletic body of his.

“Stubborn. Aren’t you?” Leon remarked at Wesker’s annoyed glare.

“Where are we going?” Wesker demanded. He didn’t have to wait long for an answer. They entered Leon’s room and the agent carefully laid him down on the bed.

“Should I be worried about where this is escalating?” Wesker asked reticently. Leon chuckled, moving onto the bed beside him and drawing the covers up.

“Don’t get excited.” quipped Leon. He scooted closer and laid a warm arm around Wesker’s waist. “I’m only offering my body heat tonight.”

He sounded so smug with himself. Like he was some sort of world-class savior. The fucking bastard. Wesker wanted to slap that stupid smirk right off his face. But despite the growing amount of detestation he held for the other man, he couldn’t stop himself from instinctively shifting closer to him, eager to soak up the free warmth that was being provided. Wesker hated himself for it. But it did feel quite nice. Even his shivers were starting to cease.

This is just temporary… Wesker inwardly groused, keeping himself emotionally detached as he pressed closer to the living furnace. After I get better and Leon is no longer useful, I’ll snap his fucking neck.

And Chris’s neck will be next.

Chapter Text

“When I awoke, hatred became my master.” – Albert Wesker.

 

          Over the next two weeks Wesker did nothing but sleep like a bear in hibernation. With his body still recovering, he didn’t have the energy to do much else. Meanwhile, he and Leon steadily fell into some form of a domesticated routine. Leon would cook him breakfast, usually porridge so it was easier for him to digest, and leave it on the bedside table because Wesker was more often than not still asleep when the agent got ready to go to work, or wherever the hell he went during the day. Wesker would eventually wake up; attempt to eat his breakfast before giving up and going back to sleep. Leon would come back home with a bowl of soup and help Wesker eat that before running a bath for him and changing his bandages. Then they’d fall asleep in the same bed, with Leon close enough to share that welcoming body heat to keep Wesker’s shivers at bay during the night. And at the start of the next morning they’d do it all over again.

          If he was peering in from a third person perspective, Wesker might have retched and shouted what the hell did he think he was doing. But in the current state he was in, the cold blooded tyrant was just too exhausted to give a shit. The only thing he really cared about right now was sleep…and killing Chris. Those two desires went hand in hand for him. Especially since his dreams were filled with nothing but the images of blood and raspy screams. Soon those dreams would be made into reality. And to ensure that it did, he ate that food in front of him, he clung to that living furnace, and he pretended that he was still his independent and capable self even though it was Leon who was there every step of the way.

Leon’s presence didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should have and Wesker’s growing tolerance of the inferior human was alarming enough to signal warning bells in his head.  Trusting anyone never came easy to Wesker but with Leon, everything seemed easy. Everything seemed…right. And laidback. And warm. He’s never felt so comfortably warm before.

He told himself it was only Leon’s body heat that made him feel that way. But this particular warmth somehow touched more than the surface of his skin. He didn’t even reprimand himself for wanting to selfishly cling to it. Because when has there ever been something there for him to cling onto?

“Hey,” Leon’s voice ringed in his ears. “Wake up.”

Wesker was jostled out of his slumber and shit, he’s been sleeping so much that he didn’t even know the day or time. The room was dark and so were the windows. Wesker puzzled over Leon’s actions to wake him up when it wasn’t even morning.

“…what?” was Wesker’s drowsy demand.

“You were having a nightmare.”

Wesker blinked in confusion before rubbing his eyes.

“I don’t recall…” he muttered. “…stupid thing to wake me up for.” He added ungraciously. Leon frowned.

“I woke you up because you were thrashing around and I didn’t want you to reopen your wounds.” Leon deadpanned. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“hm… right. Sorry…thanks…” Wesker drabbled still half asleep. He was already dozing off before he could hear Leon start complaining again. Not that he was ever interested in what the other man had to say.

But apparently that wouldn’t be his only nightly episode.

A couple days passed without incident before it happened again. And this time, Wesker fully remembered every detail.

He had a dream where he was back at the mansion he’d found Spencer in. Back in the room where the man himself was sitting in his wheelchair and gazing outside at the continuous rain. Wesker began walking up to that decrepit husk of a so-called god. He was expecting to hear Spencer’s raving speech echoing in his ears but the air was disturbingly silent. Wesker rounded the silhouetted form, prepared to see that withered face he’s come to despise so much… only to see himself instead. It was another Wesker who was sitting in that wheelchair. A bowed and hollowed exoskeleton of an undying man. An undying failure.

I’m just a failure.

The air was stuck in his lungs. It felt like the walls of the room were starting to press forward from all sides with the ceiling bearing down on him at the same time.

Wake up!”

Wesker felt himself get shaken by the shoulders. He startled awake, chest heaving frantically as he panted. Leon was above him with a marginally worried look on his face.

“You were having another nightmare.” Leon informed.

How embarrassing… Wesker carped at himself. He turned away, wanting to ignore Leon’s keen gaze. But it seemed his actions were speaking a language that Leon understood all too well.

“You remembered your dream this time?” Leon gathered. “…what was it about?”

Just leave me alone… Wesker wanted to grumble, but he didn’t have the strength to get angry anymore. Leon was silent for a while, almost like he was giving Wesker a chance to answer, though Wesker wasn’t going to.

“Was it about what happened to you?” Leon finally asked, breaking the silence. His voice was curious yet strangely calming in a way. “…when you first got here…when I first saw you…” spoke Leon carefully. Except for the next coming words, “You were pretty fucked up.”

That was like a knife to his ego but Wesker could at least appreciate his concern.

“I guess it wouldn’t be surprising if you were getting nightmares from it.”

“That’s not what I dreamed about!” Wesker suddenly snapped. Because fuck this shit if Chris Redfield was the one responsible for giving him nightmares. He was NOT afraid of that asshole. He was going to kill him. He was going to fucking gut him.

Leon stiffened at his tone but didn’t pull back. The agent probably deluded himself into thinking he was making progress.

“No need to bite my head off.” Leon murmured.

“Whatever…” Wesker hissed, hogging all the blankets in the process. “Will you please leave me alone now?”

“Alright, alright.” Leon conceded, seeming to let the subject go. “But listen… if you ever need to talk… I’m right here if you need me.” said Leon thoughtfully.

“I don’t need anyone…” Wesker uttered, closing his eyes and waiting to fall asleep again. But then his skin started to prickle from the persistent chill that seemed to be embedded in his bones. He shivered and a moment later Leon’s arms came around him. The heat of his body washed over the tyrant’s cold form and it didn’t take long for those shivers to fade away.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

 It was hard not to accept a supporting hand when he faltered or welcome an encouraging word when he needed one. But Wesker couldn’t afford to lose sight of his goal. This whole…situation… was just a means to an end. And as if to convince himself of that fact, he made an effort in criticizing Leon’s aid rather than being grateful for it. Besides, the very notion that anyone in this world could be so forthcoming and good-natured was idiotic.

It was sickening.

Wesker mulled over his disgust as he ate the oatmeal Leon made for him this morning. He had gotten better at feeding himself as the weeks passed, and now he was even able to sit up at the kitchen table and eat without too much grief.

It won’t be long now… Wesker told himself. He could feel his body getting stronger with each passing day. Even his sleep schedule was starting to lighten up a bit. He expected it would revert back to normal soon. He only hoped the same could be said for his strength.

Wesker took another bite of his oatmeal but kept the spoon in his mouth as he swallowed. Then he clamped down on it. His teeth met resistance as he tried to bend the metal.

And he growled in frustration when he failed.

He took the spoon out of his mouth and scowled. It was covered in bitemarks but was still in its perfect shape. A flare of anger roared in his chest. He wouldn’t let a spoon of all things get the best of him. He should be able to bend it. Even without superhuman strength.

 

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Leon was washing the dishes later on in the evening after getting home and taking care of his ‘guest’. Said guest was probably somewhere in the living room sleeping again. He’s never seen anyone sleep as much as that guy, but he supposed it was only natural considering the trauma he probably went through. Leon sank his hand deeper into the soapy water, pulling up a spoon to scrub clean.

Only to discover that it was awkwardly bent by the handle. Leon’s brows creased in puzzlement, but didn’t think too much of it. Maybe it just got dropped and stepped on or something. He reached into the sink again, pulling up a fork this time and also finding it grotesquely misshapen.

“What the fuck?” Leon muttered, inspecting it closely and finding bite marks all over it.

The fuck happened to his silverware?

 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Leon’s silverware hadn’t been the only victim of assault. A week later the agent had gone out to do some errands for the upcoming holidays, giving Wesker the discretion to secretly plot his takeover. The tyrant was in the middle of pacing around, designing one such intricate scheme, when he wandered into the kitchen and caught a glimpse of the gift baskets sitting on the countertop. People had been leaving more and more of those on Leon’s welcome mat the closer Christmas got. Though, how anyone could get hyped up about Christmas in mid November was beyond Wesker. Not that he ever understood the significance of gift giving in the first place. It was just another human habit that would forever be beneath him.

But this morning a new bundle had been added to the stack. There was a stuffed bear wearing a police uniform with a badge that read: Deputy Cuddles. Wesker stalked over and snatched it up, spotting the gift tag that dangled from its ear. He opened it and read the cursive lettering.

 

Here’s your very own bear from your bestest friend Claire!

I hope he keeps you warm at night ;)

 

Love, Claire Redfield.

 

Deputy Cuddles trembled in Wesker’s hands.

Claire Redfield? As in, Chris Redfield’s sister? The very thought of Chris instantly had his blood boiling. Not being able to initially find the man was bad enough but now it was almost like his stupid little sister was mocking him for it. She had the audacity to send a bear to Leon so he wouldn’t get cold at night?

News flash, bitch. Living furnaces don’t get cold.

It might as well have been Chris that was snagged in his hands for how much the very sight of this stuffed animal angered him. It stood for everything that Wesker hated and he couldn’t stop himself from projecting what he wanted to do to the other man once he got his hands on him. A murderous gleam appeared in his eyes.

“I’m going to turn you inside out.” he snarled.

 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

The reflection of Leon’s disapproval in the elevator doors was making Wesker shift uncomfortably. Mr. Cavalier didn’t appear to be in his usual tolerant mood.

“You seem upset.” Wesker observed, normally he wouldn’t make an effort at small talk but Leon’s silence was practically killing him. Leon closed his eyes, a lone vein began to pound on his temple.

“I’m not upset.” came Leon’s terse response. “I’m annoyed.”

“…did I take it too far?” Wesker gathered. Leon opened his eyes and glared at him.

“Gee, you think? My silverware was one thing, but Deputy Cuddles? That was uncalled for.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Wesker deflected offhandedly.

“Dramatic? I’m being dramatic? You’re the one that slit him open and tore out his stuffing like a rapid animal. For fuck’s sake, it was a damn murder scene when I walked into the kitchen. You didn’t even bother to hide the evidence!” Leon snapped. “All you do is eat all my food and destroy all my shit when you’re not sleeping all day. You might as well be a fucking cat.”

“Where are we going?” Wesker cut in, already bored with Leon’s rant. He might’ve been worried that Leon was going to kick him out but the elevator was headed upwards instead of downwards. He felt dumb for not realizing that this apartment complex had an elevator.

“We’re going to the rooftop.” answered Leon stiffly.

“Why?”

“No. You don’t get to ask questions. You lost that right when you started acting feral.”

Wesker frowned, but didn’t argue because it would probably only make Leon angrier.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Leon practically dragged him out by the arm and across the open gable.

“Is this the part where you throw me off the building?” Wesker asked apathetically. Because that would be a boring way to die; compared to the many ways he’s died so far.

“Don’t tempt me.” Leon warned. There was a small garden up here along with some outdoor furniture. It might have been a scenic ambiance if it wasn’t for Leon’s dour mood. They stopped by the glass railings and Leon let him go. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if the open sky was enough to lift the stress right off his shoulders.

“Okay… Look,” exhaled Leon, staring back at him. “I thought maybe you could use some fresh air since you’ve been cooped up in my apartment for so long.” He crossed his arms and trained his gaze on the cityscape. “You’ve been getting better… but the last thing I need is you getting cabin fever. So if you ever want to stretch out your claws or chase fucking mice, you can come up here.”

A dark cloud was forming over Wesker’s head.

“I’m not your cat.”

Leon turned away from him, already walking back towards the elevator doors.

“I’ll let you in through the window when it’s chow time.”

“I’m not your fucking cat!”

 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

 

          Leon giving him access to the rooftop was actually… quite thoughtful. Sure, it was probably just to spare the rest of his personal belongings from Wesker’s wrath, but it was a nice sentiment nonetheless. The rooftop was liberating in its own right. None of the other residents of the complex seemed to frequent it, probably because of the changing weather, but that was a good thing for Wesker. He’d rather not have anyone around while he tested the limits of his strength.

The first goal he set for himself, was reaching the building next over. When he was at his physical peek, he had no trouble jumping over bridges or across canals. So jumping from rooftop to rooftop should be a piece of cake. He walked to the other end of the building and focused on keeping his breathing relaxed and even. It had been little over a month now since he started staying with Leon. His body had sufficiently healed. Perhaps not completely. There was still discolored bruises and red scabs that stubbornly hugged his skin, but he was well enough to get around without Leon’s help for the most part. Besides, if he didn’t start pushing his body to its threshold then it would only take that much longer for him to get his revenge on Chris.

“I’m coming for you Redfield.” Wesker growled as he turned around to face the opposing building. He took off in a sprint, pushing his feet to gain enough momentum for the jump. As he gained more ground and more speed he felt a strain in his legs that threatened to hold him back. Wesker clenched his teeth and ignored it, forcing himself to run faster. The edge of the rooftop grew closer with each stride. He felt his muscles coil beneath his skin, preparing to spring forward.

But at the last second, Wesker’s legs locked up. He nearly lost his balance as he skidded to the edge of the building halting only centimeters from falling. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest and all he could hear was his own harsh breaths wheezing through his ears. His gaze fixated on the sheer drop from here to the ground. And immediately the sight had his head spinning. He staggered backwards.

“Fuck.” he muttered to himself.

I can’t do this.

 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

 

It was raining the next day. Wesker was laying on the couch with his head facing the window so he could gloomily stare out at the weather. He could hear Leon moving around in the background, before the clank of a plate hitting the table and the smell of food threatened to pull his gaze away.

“You skipped breakfast and lunch. Are you gonna skip dinner too?” asked Leon.

“I’m not hungry.” Wesker muttered. He heard Leon plop on the chair next to the couch. If he listened close enough, he could probably even hear him rolling his eyes.

“What’s gotten into you? You seemed really motivated about going up onto the roof and now that it’s raining you’ve suddenly lost interest in life? I’m sure it’ll stop raining by tomorrow. It doesn’t mean you have to stop eating today.” said Leon frankly.

“That’s not why I’m upset.”

“So you’re upset?”

Wesker let out an irritated sigh and turned around so he was facing the cushions of the couch.

“Leave me alone.” He grumbled.

Leon was quiet for a few moments.

“Are you planning on sleeping here?” the agent asked.

“And what if I am?” Wesker retorted almost challengingly. “I can keep myself warm.” So I don’t need you. The meaning went without saying.

Another stretch of silence passed before Leon spoke up again.

“Whose going to wake you up if you have another nightmare?”

Wesker gritted his teeth but ignored him. And after a while, Leon finally got up to leave the room. But not even a minute later, he walked back in to toss a blanket on top of his moody guest.

“If you need anything, you know where to find me.” Leon's voice faded out of the room along with his footsteps.

Part of Wesker, a really tiny part… wanted to follow him.

 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

 

          He was on the rooftop again. There was an overcast of grey clouds in the sky but it had stopped raining apart from the light drizzle that sprinkled on his clothes and hair. He walked to the opposite end of the building, steeling himself for another attempt at jumping across the narrow gap. It shouldn’t be this hard. He was sure even Leon could make the lunge. And Leon was a mere human. This should be nothing for someone that was as evolutionarily advanced as Wesker.

He turned back to his designated target then took off in a sprint. Pushing himself as fast he as he could. The edge of the building drew near and Wesker felt his muscles tense in preparation for the coming jump. He was just about to make the leap when the ground beneath his feet began to tremble and break apart. He looked down, eyes widening as the building he stood on was reduced to crumbling pieces of rubble. His instincts pushed his legs forward and he quickly sprang off the edge of the rooftop just as the rest of the structure caved in on itself. Wesker reached out in a desperate attempt to catch himself from falling and his hand snagged the ledge of the neighboring building.

He could have let out a sigh of relief except that when he looked up, two people were staring down at him.

It was Chris and Sheva.

His heart nearly stuttered to a halt. This couldn’t be happening. How did they find him? They each had an RPG in their hands and they didn’t even hesitate to point it right at his face.

NO!

He instantly let go, feeling his stomach drop faster then the rest of his body as he fell toward the pavement below. But one glance down revealed that it wasn’t pavement that waited to embrace him, it was lava.

No!

“Wake up!” Leon’s voice was loud in his ears. Wesker felt himself get shaken roughly. He awoke, startled and gasping for air. Leon was sitting on the edge of the sofa right next to him. His appearance a more common sight these nights.

“Are you alright?” asked Leon softly. “You were having nightmares again.”

Wesker was still in the process of stabilizing his breath but it didn’t take his brain nearly as long to piece two and two together.

“…you came running?” Wesker whispered.

“Of course I did.” said Leon. Then gave him a chagrinned look. “Don’t let it go to your head. You would have woken up the whole damn building if I didn’t come running.”

Wesker didn’t say anything. Still in a hazy state of mind after that relapsing episode. He felt a hand against his cheek and he winced at the examining touch.

“You’re shaking.” Leon observed, his proximity so close that Wesker could feel his breath brushing against his face. “Though, I doubt it’s because you’re cold this time.”

Wesker instinctively rose his hands to Leon’s chest with the intent to push him away. But to his own frustration and dismay, his hands did the exact opposite. They fisted into Leon’s shirt and threatened to pull him closer. The agent looked slightly confused.

“Do you want me to stay?” asked Leon.

I want you to go away. Wesker wanted to say, even though being alone was the last thing he needed at the moment.

When he didn’t answer, Leon pulled the covers back.

“Scoot over.”

Wesker balked at the command but instead of waiting for his permission Leon physically moved him aside until there was enough space to slip under the covers next to him. It was a tight fit with the both of them on one couch but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as Wesker thought it’d be. It was actually rather cozy. And Leon’s presence was unexpectedly comforting. It made him feel safe. Which was something he’s rarely felt before. He can’t remember if there was ever a time when someone cared enough to keep him company.

He can’t remember if there was ever a time when someone cared about him at all.

Chapter Text

“And so I was reborn like a phoenix emerging from the flame. I no longer needed Umbrella. I had risen beyond the human race and cheated death itself, leaving nothing to oppose me.” – Albert Wesker.

 

          From now on, Wesker slept in Leon’s bed. He wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about the whole arrangement. On one hand, having Leon there to chase his nightmares away seemed pretty beneficial. On the other hand, the fact that he needed someone there to begin with was both irritating and degrading. His confliction about it was even keeping him up at night.

He was facing the wall on the far side of the bed. For once not having any physical contact with the sleeping agent. It was just another attempt to try and keep himself isolated from the present circumstances. Which was proving harder to do these days.

The bed shifted and the movement had Wesker’s nerves tingling. He stiffened and listened closely, wondering if the other man had woken up. Leon’s breathing hitched and grew irregular. Another shift on the bed caused Wesker to finally look over at him. The agent’s chest fluttered up and down as he panted. Small pores of sweat were stuck to his forehead though one droplet that was big enough trickled down to a creased eyebrow. His finger spastically twitched. His trigger finger. The rest of his hand was slightly curled inward, grasping something that Wesker couldn’t see.

It would appear he wasn’t the only one who had nightmares.

“Leon?” Wesker was uncertain on what to do. Any other time he might’ve let the poor bastard fight off his inner demons alone. But Leon had been there for him on more than one occasion when he needed help.

It was only out of obligation that he did the same.

“Leon!” Wesker called, going so far as to shake him this time.

Leon’s whole body tensed before he awakened with a gasp. He quickly sat up, blinking a few times to clear his vision before scanning the room for any possible threats. When he found none, he looked back at Wesker.

“Sorry.” Leon said, still a bit unsettled from whatever terror he had fought against. “I…it was a bad dream.”

No shit, Wesker wanted to say. But instead he surprised himself,

“Are you alright?”

Leon looked thrown off by that. Wesker supposed that really was an abnormal thing for him to say.

“…yeah. I’m fine.” Leon answered. He shook his head as if to set it straight before letting out a tired exhale and flopping back down on his pillow. “…it was just a dream.”

Wesker was quiet for a moment, wondering what to say next or if he should say anything at all. Against his better judgement, he went with the former.

“What was it about?”

Leon turned his head toward him. Wesker couldn’t exactly see any details in the dark but he was sure that Leon’s expression was growing into an amused grin. And his intuition was only proven from the patronizing sound of his voice.

“Is this curiosity I’m sensing from my cat?”

“I’m not your cat.” Wesker all but growled.

Leon chuckled. It astounded Wesker how anyone, even Mr. Cavalier, could seem so untroubled after a detrimental nightmare.

“It just warms my heart that you would even ask.”

“Then forget I asked.” Wesker muttered, turning away and scooting to the far side of the bed.

“Wait. Alright, I’ll tell you what it was about.” Leon finally let up on the mockery. Wesker turned his head toward him and Leon cleared his throat. His gaze fixated on the ceiling, actually looking serious for once.

“I dreamt about Spain. About a mission I had there.”

“A mission?” inquired Wesker, thinking that maybe he’d finally get some insight on Leon’s occupation.

“Yeah, I had a mission to save the president’s daughter. She got kidnaped by this insane cult who wanted to use her in their terrorist attack. I mean, I can’t get too into the details because really, it was just a bunch of crazy shit that happened and you probably wouldn’t even believe me if I told you. But my dream was about me being back there. Me risking my life trying to save this girl. Going up against batshit crazy people… including a former comrade… Honestly, the dream I just had was pretty mild compared to the real thing.” spoke Leon, his tone sounding haunted in an isolated way.

Wesker might’ve felt sorry for him, or even empathetic of what he went through but at the mention of Spain and Leon's horrific version of it, a plethora of images were instantly engulfing his head with his own memories of the backwater country. Memories of a prior engagement he had there. An engagement that involved a certain diabolical virus if he recalled correctly.

Spain… I remember a cult in Spain… A cult called Los Iluminados…with a virus called Las Plagas. And… Leon… Is it by mere chance that the events he spoke of are so similar to the ones I know? He talked about fighting a comrade there. He couldn’t mean… Jack Krauser? A man he once had under his employment. A man he had tasked with killing the agent who stood in his way of getting the Plaga sample.

It all suddenly added up and Wesker could’ve kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. For not realizing it when he first heard Leon’s name.

How is this possible?

He felt his teeth clench. Felt rage trembling beneath his skin.

This fucking asshole was the one that killed Jack Krauser and was the reason why Ada Wong fucking betrayed him in the end.

How the hell did he not find Chris but instead this guy?

It was almost too surreal to be a fucking coincidence. No. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Because now that Wesker thought about it, he remembered when he first saw Chris upon arriving at this address. Chris had been walking down the street with someone. He had been walking down the street with a tall blond haired…

...Leon.

Why had he not realized that sooner? Why did he not commit the memory of Leon’s face in his head? Had he really been so distracted by his thoughts of revenge that he missed something so obvious? The very something that could’ve made the most sense out of this whole senseless situation? Leon had to be friends with Chris. They were both running in the same league weren’t they? And how else could Wesker mistake Chris’s address unless they opted to switch places somehow?

“Did you fall asleep?” asked Leon, bringing Wesker out of his blazing thoughts.

“…no.” Wesker managed out, after a moment of regaining his speech.

I’m going to fucking kill you.

He wanted to do that now. The impulse to reach over and grip Leon’s throat just so he could crush the agent’s windpipe with his fingers was nearly too overwhelming to repress.

But his rationally got the better of him.

He couldn’t kill Leon now. Not only was he lacking his strength, he still needed to find Chris and if Wesker’s hunch about the two of them being friends was right, then he could use Leon as more then just a living furnace. He could make Leon lead him right to Redfield.

And then I’ll kill the both of you. Wesker thought approvingly. Yes, that was a much better plan.

“You’re pretty quiet.” Leon noted. “More so then usual. It's almost weird...”

Wesker slammed his pillow over Leon’s face, secretly hoping he’d suffocate under it. But all he got for his efforts was a stifled chuckle.

“I was kidding!” Leon’s voice was still muffled.

“I hope you die…” Wesker muttered. Leon lifted the pillow off his face and turned his heard toward him.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Wesker disparaged, returning to his side of the bed. “I said, I hope the rest of your night is…peaceful.” he slowly enunciated.

It almost felt like the word peaceful didn’t belong on his tongue.

“Thanks.” said Leon, sounding appreciative nonetheless. “Not just for that. But for listening to me.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Leon feigned a hurt sound.

“I’m wounded, Alford. Was this just a onetime thing?”

He’d never get used to being called that name.

“Just call me Al.” At least that was close enough to his real name that he could accept without cringing every time.

“Are we on a nickname basis now?”

“No!” Wesker refuted, glaring back over at him. “Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter. Because I’ll be gone soon. And you can go back to whatever carefree lifestyle you had before I stumbled in here.”

Only, that’s not entirely true. Because once I get the strength to punch a hole through your chest that’s exactly what I’ll do.

“You don’t have to leave, you know.”

Wesker’s entire train of thought grinded to a screeching halt.

“What?” Wesker said, his voice small and exposed by the suddenness of those words.

Leon gave him a half sided grin that Wesker barely caught in the dark.

“I mean, I know that’s what I said in the beginning. But once you get all better, you don’t have to just up and go. You can stay a while. Until your mentally ready to go back out there and face whatever it is…your facing.” said Leon. He paused a moment before continuing, “I never asked what happened to you because I had a feeling you’d never tell me. But even though I don’t know all the details, I just want you to know…” his voice became soft and almost rueful. As were his eyes when they shifted to meet Wesker’s own. “…that I’m sorry. I’m sorry someone hurt you.”

Hearing someone apologize for something they didn’t do was strangely satisfying yet it rendered Wesker momentarily speechless. He wasn’t sure whether to be shocked by Leon’s vast sense of compassion, or his sheer stupidity.

“You don’t even know me…” Wesker mumbled. “…I could have deserved it.” He’d never actually admit he deserved it. But he had to find fault somewhere in Leon’s perfect image.

“I don’t think anyone deserves what you went through.” said Leon quietly. “Not that I know exactly what you went through. But… I have a feeling it was pretty traumatic. If it has a stringently reserved person such as yourself clinging onto me in their sleep, then it must have been painful in every way.”

Something tightened in Wesker’s chest. Leon knew how he felt without even knowing what had happened. There was someone who understood him more then anyone else ever had. Someone he wanted to kill yet had him questioning if he really wanted to or not. Leon was… everything a true hero and friend stood for. And he was everything that Wesker, as a rule, hated.

“That aside,” Leon went on, recapturing Wesker’s attention. “I’ve already taken care of you for this long. Do I really need a reason to go the extra mile?”

Perhaps not. But Wesker would be damned if he continued to let this go on any further then it needed to.

“But I don’t… I won’t need your help after I leave here.” muttered Wesker stubbornly. Because that was more truthful then anything. You can help me by dying.

“You keep saying you don’t need help. Or that you don’t need anyone’s help.” Leon harked back in annoyance. “But how’s that working out for you so far?”

Wesker gritted his teeth.

“I think your silence speaks for itself.”

“Shut up.” Wesker countered. But Leon had made a point. In his own stupid way. And as if to add insult to injury the agent broke out in an arrogant smirk.

“I don’t know if anyone ever enlightened you, but no one can take the world on by themselves.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////

What a stupid saying, Wesker groused as he paced the length of the rooftop. Stupid Leon and his stupid face. Having to insert his stupid self where he didn’t belong.

Wesker had survived the childhood experiments on his own. He became the captain of S.T.A.R.S on his own. He killed Spencer on his own. He didn’t fucking need anyone there for him now. He was just as strong, just as capable as he ever was before.

“And I’ll fucking prove it to you.” he growled, turning to face the adjacent building. He was so caught up in pretending that Leon could hear his arguments and witness his feat, he ignored the fact that he was actually alone.

I’ll show you, asshole. I don’t need you to hold my hand.

He took off in a sprint, anger and frustration overflowing his veins. It surged throughout his body, pumping his heart and propelling his legs. His thoughts deviated to Chris. Using his mortal enemy as incentive to run faster, to push himself harder and not hesitate this time. Because once he found Chris he was going to crush his ribcage and break his legs. Maybe he’d even set him on fire. It wouldn’t be lava but it would be the next best thing if it meant he got to hear Chris’s agonizing screams while he burned to death.

The edge of the building was nearing. Only a few more strides to go. Wesker imagined Chris standing on that opposite building, if only to fuel his determination to make the jump. To capture that idiot hero that everybody loved, so he could completely ruin him.

But then a small scuttling sensation of fear prickled his skin at the thought of the man standing just beyond his reach. What if Chris had gotten stronger? What if he stopped Wesker again? What if…Chris killed him again?

A growl of vexation elicited from the back of Wesker’s throat.

No. I’m not afraid of him. I’m going to end his life. He’s the one who should be afraid!

The edge drew upon him but his heart lurched and his legs threatened to lock up. Out of desperation to not falter in another failed attempt, he stopped imagining Chris as the one standing on that other building. Instead, he tried to think of another target to kill. One that he could dispatch with ease. An unwitting victim that wasn’t as much of a threat.

Without acquiescence his mind envisioned Leon. But instead of the burning hostility he felt towards Chris, something else took hold and grounded itself deep in his chest. Something that was stronger than anything he’s ever felt before. It made him forget about all the rage that burned within him and all the fear that held him back.

He jumped, soaring over the narrow alleyway and halfway across the other rooftop. Thoughts of Leon dwindled away when he landed roughly; hitting the ground and tumbling over a few times before he staggered back to his feet.

Fuck.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his shoulder.

That’s probably going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow but at least he made it. He turned around to look how far he’d come. It was an impressive distance. A distance that no mere human could even make. Which meant he was finally getting a semblance of his prior strength back. A proud smile stretched across his lips and he strode to the edge of the rooftop to look down at the world with a new sense of control.

From this vantage point, he felt like a god.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

Wesker was non-too-happy as Leon practically forced him into workout gear and dragged him outside and onto the street. It was a little chilly today but at least the sun was out.

“Why are you taking me with you?” Wesker griped.

“I thought you could use the exercise.” answered Leon, still clutching his wrist and pulling him along down the sidewalk. "Besides, your out on the rooftop so much I thought you'd be excited to have more space to roam around."

Wesker gave out an undignified huff.

“Come on. Look, the park is right across the road.” Leon encouraged.

“I hate the park…” Wesker protested. There was usually people at the park. Wesker hated people.

“Do I really have to give you a detailed lecture on why exercise is good for your health?”

“Please don’t.” Wesker almost begged. Just imagining Leon as any sort of educational role model made him want to shoot himself. The only thing the agent was proficient in was how to annoy people. “Besides, I get plenty of it on the rooftop.” Wesker argued.

“There isn’t a place to go for a jog on the rooftop.”

“We’re jogging?” Wesker said, sounding averse to the idea. If there was one thing that was more boring than hearing Leon talking then it would be jogging.

Or worse…Leon talking and jogging.

He wanted to dig his heels in the pavement but thought better of it. Maybe he could use this opportunity to test how fast he could now run.

“Ok, let’s go.” he relented, bypassing Leon and pulling him along this time. The agent looked startled.

“Wha- wait. Why the sudden change of heart?”

But Wesker had already upped their pace and they soon stood under the stone archway leading to the park.

“I can see you’re eager.” Leon remarked. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s about time you got off the sofa.”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Leon rolled his eyes and gestured to the trail.

“This path wraps around the whole park. Why don’t we just start off with one lap- H-hey!” Leon called as Wesker took off without him.

His first few bounds were teeming with energy. Added to the fact that the sun was shining and the weather was actually pleasant once the blood got pumping, he supposed jogging wasn’t so bad. But then Leon had to catch up to him.

“Is it a race your looking for?” Leon asked, sounding amused.

“Races are for children.”

“Then consider me a full grown child.” Leon chuckled, dashing ahead.

Wesker restrained himself from entertaining that idiot. But something gnawed at his insides in the face of a challenge. No one was better than him. Not at anything. And he wouldn’t let Leon have something that Wesker could easily take.

He turned his run into a sprint. Easily catching up to Mr. Cavalier and also catching him slightly off guard.

“I’m almost impressed.” Leon snarked, giving him a sideways glance. Which only added fuel to Wesker’s fire. Spurring him onward to go even faster. His legs pounded the pavement and the rapid tempo matched his accelerating heart. Soon, the images around him started to blur out of focus. It wasn't long after that when they altogether turned transparent. Like they weren’t even there to begin with.

Because he was going too fast.

He suddenly stopped himself. Coming to a halt where the path stepped off into a small wooded area. Fallen leaves whooshed into the air at his presence. His heart thrummed in his chest and he gazed around, almost bewildered at the sudden change of scenery. He wondered how fast he was going. How far did he surpass Leon? Should he be worried about what Leon saw?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footfalls drawing closer. He turned toward whoever was approaching and saw that it was Leon. The agent was looking around in search of something.

“Unbelievable… He was going so fast. He was nothing but a blur.” Leon was rambling. More to himself then to anyone that could hear him.

“Leon?” Wesker said, taking a cautious step in his direction. Because the agent was still looking around like he didn’t even see him.

“It’s almost like he disappeared…” Leon muttered. Wesker halted at that. Was he being serious?

“Leon, I’m right here.” Wesker stated, growing more irritated by the second.

“Was that the wind? Because I could’ve sworn I heard a voice...” said Leon walking closer. It got to the point where he was running into him and making them both trip and fall onto the ground. Finally Leon looked over at him with an ever knowing smirk stretched across his face.

“You fucking asshole.” Wesker intoned. Because for a moment, a stupid idiotic moment, he actually thought he turned invisible somehow.

Leon laughed. And Wesker couldn’t help it. The sound of it was so pure and genuine, that it had him chuckling despite himself.

“Oh I’m the asshole? You’re the one who abandoned me. How the hell were you even able to run that fast?”

“Maybe you’re just that slow.” Wesker countered. He rolled them over to slam Leon’s back against the ground. And that weak, he added mentally. Leon gasped in surprise, looking up at him in astonishment.

“What the hell. Just a few months ago you could barely walk.”

“Well, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” stated Wesker, slightly smug with himself. The agent huffed out a laugh.

“True. Though, I’m amazed at your improvement. I almost feel like a proud parent.” revered Leon and he raised a hand to wipe away an imaginary tear from his eye. “My baby’s growing up.”

Wesker chuckled. He’d usually be annoyed with Leon’s theatrics but he couldn’t stop himself from playing along this time.

“They don’t stay young forever.”

“I know, right? I remember when I once held you in my arms.” and Leon broke off into a laugh because he couldn’t keep a straight face saying that. Wesker actually found that funny and before he knew it, he was laughing along with him.

Leon’s mirth ended with a sudden hitch of his breath. His muscles tensed and pressed against the ground in an effort to move back. Wesker suddenly became alert and he swiftly looked over his shoulder to seek out the looming threat. But there was no one else there. No one but them. He turned back to Leon, who still had a stunned expression on his face.

“Leon?” Wesker said, an inkling of uneasiness was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.

“You…you’re eyes…” Leon breathed out the words with an air of astonishment.

My eyes? What about them? What could Leon possibly be seeing that could cause such a man of eloquence to go speechless?

“I…” it took a few moments for the agent to remember how to verbalize. “…I didn’t realize…”

“Realize what?” asked Wesker, growing increasingly anxious.

“How beautiful they are.”

The air lapsed into silence. Wesker didn’t know what to say or even make of that. He’s never had anyone call his eyes beautiful before. And at such a seemingly random moment. He was just starting to wonder what induced Leon to say such a thing when the agent blinked and slightly shook his head in a motion of deliberation. He sat up causing Wesker to move away.

“Sorry.” Leon spoke, the cavalier nature of his voice returning. He got to his feet and dusted the leaves off his clothes. “I’m… dehydrated.” As if that explained his weird behavior. “Maybe we should head home?”

Home. He said it like they both belonged there.

Before Wesker could answer, Leon was already breaking off into a jog. Wesker got the impression that the agent was trying to get away from him. And maybe at one point the tyrant would have been roguishly delighted about that. But at the moment, he felt just the opposite. There was a part of him that didn’t want Leon to leave him behind.

So he followed him home.

///////////////////////////////////////////

That night Wesker laid awake in bed. He was on his side, facing Leon who was turned away from him. Unnaturally estranged for once, even in sleep.

It all seemed so odd. For the longest time Wesker wanted nothing more than to keep their lives divided. Yet he couldn’t stop his thoughts from speculating what he did wrong. What made Leon suddenly so uneasy around him. Not that he should care about Leon in any way, but he couldn’t help but feel like he lost something he once had. If only for a moment.

A crawling sensation emerged from underneath his skin. Wesker glanced down at his arm and saw something slinking in the shadows. He swiftly sat up, heart instantly lodged in his throat. He made a dash for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and flicking on the lights. His reflection had him jumping back and hitting the wall.

Shit.” he growled but didn’t make a move other then to shrink further away from the mirror.

There was literally something crawling underneath his skin. Faded black lines that looked like plant vines were moving like snakes across his body. The sight was ghastly and it sent a shiver down Wesker’s spine. Not only that, but his eyes were red. They were uncontrollably glowing even in the intensity of the bathroom light.

Fuck.” What the hell was going on? He felt panic take ahold of his lungs, felt it obstructing his airway. He tried to get himself to calm down but acknowledging it’s grip on him just made it all the more real. It made it all the more overwhelming.

A knock on the door nearly sent his body into shock.

“Al? Are you alright?” it was Leon. Wesker must’ve woken him up while he was freaking out. The handle started to turn but Wesker immediately threw himself against the door. His crimson eyes shifted to the mirror, catching sight of his reflection and it was then that he realized what Leon must have seen in the park earlier when he looked at him. The abnormal blaze of his eyes. With a sense of unease, he remembered how Leon had called them beautiful. Did Leon really mean that? Or had he just been startled out of rational thought at the time? Maybe that’s why he became distant all afternoon. Maybe he was finally starting to realize what Wesker really was inside.

At the moment, it was also showing outside. He looked like a monster. And he was certain that Leon would say as much if he saw him.

“Hey,” Leon’s voice turned stern when he couldn’t open the door. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing…” Wesker stammered. He cursed himself for sounding so vulnerable. The obscure vines were becoming more prominent, like they were trying to protrude outward and break free into the world. It was with an appalling and petrifying realization that the thing beneath his skin was Uroboros. And that it had finally reawakened to do what it was created to do.

“D-don’t come in!” Wesker stated, sounding sordidly desperate to his own ears.

He wasn’t sure why he was trying to protect Leon of all people, though, he told himself that it wasn’t to protect Leon. It was just to protect himself. He didn't know how Uroboros was going to react to a human presence now that it was active. He wouldn't want to risk getting torn apart if the virus decided to forcefully lurch out of him. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breaths but they were still stuttering out of rhythm and the slithering feeling of the vines growing more excited wasn’t helping him.

He was losing control. The darkness that crept across mind was impossible to hide from. Uroboros was taking over. And he didn't think he could stop it.

“It’s going to be alright.”

He could hear Leon’s voice rumbling through the door. The quality of it low and gentle. A mollifying presence in his head as opposed to the one in his body.

“I know you don’t want to talk. But I can tell that you’re scared. And it’s ok to be.” Leon continued. His voice became clearer as Wesker concentrated on the sound of it; willingly following it out of the darkness that threatened to entrap him. “You’re not alone. You don’t have to face your fears alone. I’m right here with you.”

The virus inside of him accumulated and was positively sizzling at his feelings of rage. But it had mistaken that boost of rage for Leon. When that rage was aimed at none other than Uroboros itself.

I will not be manipulated by a fucking parasite, Wesker avowed, asserting his dominance over his own body, feeling the infection inside him hackle and resist his command. Wesker gripped the edges of the sink and stared down his reflection. He felt the porcelain under his fingertips fracture and crack as he used every fiber of strength and willpower to beat the opposing force back down. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the constricting sensation of the vines tightening around his limbs and mentally lashing out at them on every part of his body. The power struggle was quickly sapping Wesker's energy but it wasn't long until his unwelcomed guest finally began to cease and desist. I’m the one who gets to decide what to do with this power. I’m the one in control here! He battered it into submission, feeling the bulging cords in his skin start to recede. He opened his eyes, flicking them to the mirror and watching with a mixture of awe and shock as the black lines actually began to fade. And the raging fire in his irises simmered down until they looked human again.

He let out an unsteady breath of air that he didn’t know he’d been holding in. His body was a little shaken and sweaty. But other then that, there wasn’t any evidence that indicated what he almost transformed into.

“Are you still alive in there?” Leon’s voice vibrated through the wooden barrier between them. It must have been awhile since Wesker last said anything but the knowledge that Leon had been there the whole time throughout his struggle made him feel… grateful of all things. He can't recall if he's ever felt such a way before.

Instead of answering his question, Wesker opened the door. Spotting the agent leaning against the frame looking concerned yet relieved at the same time. Wesker felt that familiar tightening in his chest. He wasn't sure how to label the emotion that welled up inside him. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to feel it. Yet he was feeling it regardless and it was pulling him forward.

“You ok?” asked Leon. He arched an eyebrow as Wesker drew closer. In the next moment, the air was forced out of his lungs when he was captured in an unexpected hug.

I am now.

Chapter Text

“The right to be a god? That right is now mine.” – Albert Wesker

 

Leon woke up to the sun shining in his face. He slowly cracked his eyes open. Rays of light had seeped past his curtains and stretched across the bed, illuminating the outline of another body draped over him. Leon threw a glance over his shoulder, nearly running his nose into another face. He startled slightly but soon relaxed into the possessive embrace he was held in.

Well… this is…new. Leon groggily thought to himself. The agent was usually the big spoon in this arrangement but he supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised with the change in dynamitic after last night.

He never would have expected his taciturn guest to actually hug him. And not the kind of hug that someone stretched into during their sleep but the kind of hug that was willful and… sentimental even. It had been shocking, for lack of a better word. Especially since it came from Mr. Umbrage of all people.

It was the first time the guy had showed any kind of gratitude towards Leon and the agent wondered what could’ve happened last night to warrant such a reaction. He thought it had been another nightmare at first. But if that was the case, then it must have been a nightmare that was worse than all the others.

Leon put it out of his mind for now as he fidgeted. He really needed to pee. He gave a gentle nudge with his elbow.

“Hey,…ya mind?” Leon drawled, voice still lethargic. He might as well be talking to the wall because the other man didn’t even stir. Leon sighed in exasperation and began the slow process of untangling himself from clingy limbs. He was surprised at not getting a reaction out of that. The guy just kept sleeping.

Like a fucking cat.

Leon smirked at his inner monologue as he got up to head to the bathroom. He switched on the light and swung the door shut behind him. After releasing his bladder into the toilet he went to the sink to wash his hands and noticed the fractured lines on the marbled edges. Leon paused to examine them in bemusement, head still fuzzy from sleep.

Were those there before? He couldn’t remember ever seeing them there. And that type of damage looked so strange. It looked like… like the impressions of someone’s hands.

“…the fuck...?” Leon muttered.

The fuck happened to his sink?

///////////////////////////////////////

Wesker was eating toast and scrambled eggs for breakfast, his brain in much the same state as his eggs. He really didn’t want to think about anything right now. After last night, he was starting to question the boundaries between Leon and himself. Or if there were even boundaries at all anymore. He’s never hugged anyone. He’s never…clung to someone like they were his lifeline. What’s wrong with me? Wesker criticized himself. He needed to stop this. Whatever this was.

His eyes wandered over to Leon, who was in the middle of pouring himself a mug of coffee. The expression on his face was unreadable. Neutral. Like he was concentrating on keeping his thoughts to himself. Which was weird…for Leon. Though after a few minutes, the agent finally broke the silence.

“Do you know what happened to my sink?” asked Leon, pouring sugar and milk into his mug, almost making it a point to not look at Wesker as he spoke.

Wesker paused midway through a bite of toast.

His sink.

The memory of his fingers digging into the countertop flashed through head but telling Leon the truth about what happened wouldn’t exactly put the agent’s mind at ease.

“…I don’t know what you mean.” Wesker evaded, taking a bite and being grateful he had his mouth full so he didn’t have to talk anymore. Leon looked a little annoyed by his stonewalling. He picked up a spoon and stirred the contents of his drink almost aggressively.

“What I mean is, there’s cracks all over my sink. Cracks that weren’t there before.”

Wesker was still eating but Leon patiently waited for him to swallow. When Wesker did, he took another bite out of his toast. Leon was just about to take a sip of his coffee but he finally lost his composure. He set it back down on the table rather harshly and gave Wesker a glower. Which was an uncommon expression for the agent’s usual calm features.

“It’s not enough that you have to keep trashing my shit, but you’re gonna lie to me too?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Wesker mumbled around the piece of bread.

“You’re acting like you had nothing to do with it.” Leon stated. “That shit was marble.”

He was referring to the fact that no human could so easily break it with their bare hands. Wesker swallowed and gave Leon an unnerving look.

“It must have been some cheap ass marble.”

With a growl, Leon stood up and turned away.

“I’m going to work.”

He didn’t even drink his coffee. The front door clicked shut a moment later, leaving Wesker by himself. He doubted Leon was legitimately angry about the sink. He suspected it was more about Wesker keeping secrets. And Leon feeling the need to know his secrets was just another sign that the two of them were getting too… personal with each other. Leon was already starting to notice things about Wesker that weren’t exactly normal. If Wesker stayed here any longer, he risked Leon finding out the truth.

Though, why he cared if Leon found out the truth or not was still perplexing him. Because it shouldn’t matter if Leon discovered what he really was when Wesker could simply do away with him with his increasingly growing strength.

But a faint throbbing in his chest made Wesker admit to himself that he didn’t exactly want to get rid of Leon.

He didn’t really know what he wanted anymore.

///////////////////////////////////////

It took being alone for the whole day, bored out of his mind to make him remember what he really wanted out of all this.

Chris Redfield’s life.

He was going to get his revenge on the dumb brunette eventually. The question was, how? How could he broach the subject with Leon without seeming too suspicious?

Leon, do you happen to have any friends? Friends that have brown hair and stupid bulging muscles and go by the name of Redfield? Why you ask? No reason. No reason at all…

That wasn’t exactly subtle but Wesker didn’t know how else to get that information. Well actually… there was another way. He could just make Leon tell him where Chris was. Force it out of his mouth by breaking his ribs one by one.

Wesker waved off the thought as quickly as it came. Not because he wasn’t up to it, of course not. But because he honestly doubted the agent would tell him anything through torture. Leon seemed the type to stay stupidly loyal till the bitter end. Wesker needed to find a different way. A… friendlier approach. Which was going to be difficult because that wasn’t how the tyrant usually handled things.

But in the end, he didn’t have to worry about that.

Leon came home in the afternoon with some takeout like he always did. Wesker was expecting him to still be a little annoyed from this morning but it seemed Leon’s mood had made an improvement throughout the day.

“I wanted to apologize.” said Leon, pushing a box of fried chicken over the kitchen island to where Wesker was sitting on one of the barstools. Wesker glanced down at the offering. He wasn’t really into fried chicken but he pulled it closer regardless. If Leon thought he accepted his apology, then all the better in fooling him later.

“What for?” asked Wesker minutely.

“I realized I might’ve been acting… a bit terse this morning. I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”

“I didn’t know you lost your temper.”

That got Leon to smile.

“Well, I’m not naturally an angry person to begin with, but I still feel bad for being snappy. That’s why I wanted to make it up to you.”

“With fried chicken?” mused Wesker, raising an eyebrow. Leon smirked.

“No, that’s just your dinner. Even if I was pissed, I wouldn’t let you starve.”

How noble… Wesker burlesqued to himself. Leon continued,

“A coworker of mine invited me over for Thanksgiving. Since I don’t have family in town, I thought it’d be nice to spend it with friends. And… I wanted to extend that invitation to you.”

Wesker’s first thoughts about a social gathering were anything but pleasant. He’d rather stare out the window and watch the rain then be surrounded by a bunch of humans he didn’t know.

It was almost like Leon could sense his brooding thoughts.

“I know you don’t know them. But they’re really nice people. They’re people I’d trust my life with. In fact I have on several occasions. And I’m sure you’d like them. The one who invited me is a good friend of mine. His name’s Chris.”

The world came to a crashing halt at the sound of that name. It had Wesker’s whole body instantly set on edge. His teeth nearly split from how hard he clenched them. The agent didn’t seem to notice his change of demeanor. Because he kept rambling on about how great of a guy Chris was along with his sister who was just as awesome.

I beg to fucking differ.

“I’m not interested.” Wesker suddenly cut in, causing Leon’s sentence to come to an abrupt halt. He gave Wesker a questioning look before his expression returned neutral and he leaned his body weight against the kitchen island.

“Alright. No one’s forcing you to go. I just thought it’d be good for you to get out more and maybe… socialize with other people. It might help with the healing process.”

By being in the same room with the guy who threw me in lava and hit me with a rocket launcher? Yeah right.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Leon.” Wesker monotoned, poking at his chicken. He heard the agent chuckle softly.

“You really are an emo kid at heart.”

Wesker shot him a scowl and it caused Leon to only laugh again. He lifted his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, no need to stab me with those piercing eyes. I’ll leave you alone. But if you change your mind before Thanksgiving, just let me know.” he kept the offer open as he left the kitchen to go take a shower.

Wesker picked at his food again, his thoughts mulling over Leon’s invitation.

He didn’t refuse to go because he was afraid of meeting Chris again.

He refused to go because he’d rather kill Chris without worrying about anyone else trying to intervene. He had underestimated the value of Chris’s partner when they both opposed him in Africa. Being surrounded by his friends would only make Redfield a harder target. Wesker would do better to wait until all of them left to go home. That aside, he also wanted to take his sweet time with the man to do every torturous and sinful thing he could come up with.

He wasn’t going to attend Chris’s Thanksgiving.

He was going to ruin it.

//////////////////////////////////////

Wesker stood on the edge of the rooftop, his eyes scanning the streets for Leon to emerge any moment now. The agent had asked him one last time if he wanted to attend the banquette but Wesker refused him again, stating that he’d rather sleep. To which the agent only replied with an eyeroll and left him to brood alone. Little did he know what Wesker’s true plans were.

The tyrant caught sight of Leon exiting the building down below and making his way across the street. Ever the blissful fool. He carried himself as if no horror in the world could touch him. That was going to change soon. But Chris would come first.

Wesker gave himself a running start to jump over to the other building. He’s been coming out onto the rooftop the past couple days to develop his speed and strength and he’s seen enough improvement in himself to know that he was more than a match for Chris now.

He watched Leon make his way down the streets. He wasn’t taking a car, so Wesker assumed that Chris actually didn’t live very far. Which sent up a flare of vexation in his chest. To think that Redfield had been under his nose this whole time…

Though, he shouldn’t worry about that now, because soon he was finally going to get his long awaited revenge. He continued to follow Leon via the rooftops and a couple blocks later the agent stopped at an apartment that looked much like their own.

Wesker scowled from his perch. It was going to be difficult to figure out which floor Chris lived on but then Leon pressed a button on the callbox and Wesker focused his eyes on the name tag alongside it. His vision had grown as strong as the rest of his body and he could faintly make out the tiny lettering and form them into a readable name along with a number. The information revealed that Chris lived on the 5th floor. And Wesker was fiendishly delighted with the unrequited information Leon had given him. The agent was buzzed in and he entered the building a moment later.

Wesker sat back on his heels. Now all he had to do was wait.

Which wasn't too bad. Because in the meantime he could concoct all the terrible things he was going to do to Redfield. He had to plan carefully though. He didn’t want to get too carried away and kill Chris too fast. He’d have to draw it out. Moment by moment. Scream by scream. He could hardly wait for the next few hours to pass by.

////////////////////////

It was during his third run-through of his sadistic plans that the front door of the building opened. Wesker snapped out of his dark thoughts and shot his gaze to the front entrance. The sky had grown darker by now since winter’s steady approach made the days shorter. Even with the lack of light though, Wesker could still make out the person that walked away from Chris’s apartment. His eyesight had heighted along with his senses, allowing him to see in the nighttime as if it was daytime. And he almost sent himself off the edge of the rooftop at recognizing the familiar features of Sheva Alomor.

What the hell was she doing here? Perhaps on vacation? Or Perhaps seeing an old time friend? Either way, steam was practically wafting off of Wesker from how furious he was at her appearance. He wanted to rush down there and choke the life out of her.

But she was already getting into a waiting cab. At this point, he’d probably have to chase her halfway through the city if he wanted to spill her blood. He rationalized that he could deal with her later. Besides, there was more tantalizing pray that Wesker wanted to get his hands on at the moment.

With an embittered heart, he watched the cab drive away down the street.

I’ll come after you when I’m done with Chris, he mentally vowed. He turned his sights back on the building and after a few more minutes, two more people walked out. One of them was a woman with red hair and a robust personally as she animatedly laughed and joked with her friend.

Chris’s sister… That was another way Wesker could torture Chris. Kill his sister right in front of him. The temptation was impossible to resist.

But Claire had company. And it was none other than Leon.

The two hugged each other under the light of a street lamp as they said their goodbyes. And the sight of them being intimate caused a fretful pang in Wesker’s gut. Leon hugging anyone else but himself had Wesker feeling… indisposed somehow.

I’m the only person who belongs in those arms… An unfamiliar voice was saying in his head. Wesker shook it off, his heart stuttering from its normal tempo. His grip on the edge of the building had the concrete cracking. He could almost physically feel his eyes glowing red.

I’ll kill that fucking bitch. Now there was a voice he resonated with as his own.

The two didn’t hug for long. They departed and waved over their shoulders at each other. Wesker glowered as he watched them go their separate ways. He debated on going after Claire, envisioning knocking her out and dragging her body back to Chris’s apartment as added punishment to what the man had done to him back in Africa.

But against Wesker’s adamant aspirations, his gaze shifted over to Leon instead. Who was walking away down the shadowy streets by himself in his usual blissful and cavalier strut. Annoyance was always the first thing to come to Wesker’s mind when regarding Leon. But a longing of something else had gripped Wesker’s heart as he watched him leave.

A longing to follow. Like he’d done once before.

Wesker forced his eyes to turn back to Chris’s apartment. Scolding himself for getting too distracted. Claire was already gone, so using her in his torturous plans was obviously out of the question. Besides, he didn’t want to waste too much time on the wrong Redfield. Wesker settled back down in a crouch, waiting again for more of Chris’s visitors to leave. He didn’t want to crash the party with too many witnesses in the room.

But Wesker’s eyes were being rebellious tonight, for they once again shifted to look in the direction where Leon went.

The agent was nearly all the way at the end of the road by now. Even Wesker’s impeccable vision had trouble making him out from this distance. But he’d recognize that swagger anywhere. He was just about to once again compel himself to ignore the agent, when he caught sight of someone else emerging onto the street behind him.

Along with three more.

They were nothing but dark shapes from Wesker’s perspective and it didn’t help that they were also wearing all black. Wesker straightened up to get a better view, seeing that Leon was at least a block or two ahead of them. But the group was progressively following his footsteps. And when Leon turned the corner. So did they.

Before Wesker could even think about what he was doing, he was already dashing across the rooftops in the direction they disappeared in. He got to the end of the block and looked down from the edge of the rooftop. He spotted Leon turning another corner up ahead and the shadowy group of four had split up in pairs. One pairing continued to follow the agent, while the other pairing slinked into an adjoining alleyway.

They were planning on cornering him.

Wesker jumped down and landed onto the sidewalk in a crouch, before rushing forward in a blur and lunging into the shadows of the ally. A surprised cry elicited the air as Wesker snagged the closest person in view and slammed his face into the wall.

“What the fuck?!” exclaimed his companion. A scurry of feet rounded the corner and the first pair appeared. Probably rushing back at the sound of their scuffle.

“What were you planning?” catechized Wesker in a voice that barely concealed his rage.

“Who the fuck are you?” one of them spoke from the street.

Wesker tightened his hold on the one he had against the wall before hauling him over and throwing him at the accomplice by the dumpster. The feeble man weighed next to nothing for the strengthened tyrant. Wesker then rushed the two that stood at the edge of the alleyway, kicking one’s legs out from under him and grabbing the second one by the neck before accidently snapping it with his fingers. The body slid out of his grasp and onto the ground.

“Fuck.” He didn’t mean to kill him that fast. His new form of strength had actually surprised him. He hadn’t been able to test his limits on anything apart from Leon’s stuffed animal and furniture. Wesker looked down at the guy he had kicked in the legs and saw that he had broken those as well, with white bone protruding through the fabric of his jeans and blood gushing like a broken faucet onto the alley floor. The guy was babbling in incoherent agony.

Wesker almost wanted to say sorry.

But then a sharp pain bloomed from the furrow of his shoulder blade. He grunted and cast a glance behind him, spotting one of the assailants twisting a knife deep in his back. Wesker whorled around and broke his arm in half. The guy gave out a shrieking cry but Wesker quickly stifled it by seizing his throat, being mindful not to crush it this time. He slammed him into the brick wall and lifted his free hand in preparation to rip the scumbag’s heart out.

The man spluttered in his grasp, clutching at his arm as if he could physically break away from the tyrant’s steel hold.

“We- we weren’t even after you.” he explained desperately. “This has nothing to do with you!” he cried as his eyes reddened with tears of asphyxiation. Wesker was almost tempted to just choke the life out of him.

“It has everything to do with me.” Wesker growled, pressing close to his pathetic sniveling face. “You were going after Leon and Leon is mine.” He stated fiercely. He paused right after the words escaped his mouth and quickly corrected himself.

“Mine to kill.” He tightened his grip on the man’s neck, hearing a wheezing stutter of air leave his lungs. “Just like you are.”

He dragged him up the wall to give himself a better angle, before striking his hand straight through his chest and embedding his fingers into the concrete wall when they exited his back.

“Shit.” Wesker hissed. He missed his heart by a long shot. He’d have to work on that.

Blood foamed out of his victim’s mouth and onto Wesker’s clothes. Or better put, Leon’s clothes. The agent probably wasn’t going to be too happy about that. He yanked his forearm back out, also coming away covered in blood. The man was dead in seconds and Wesker dropped him onto the ground as if he was nothing more then the trash that surrounded them. His eyes scanned the premises. Seeing that the guy with the broken legs had bled out by now and the first guy he had killed still lying in a heap. Though, the fourth guy wasn’t in sight. The coward must have taken off down the alleyway while Wesker was killing his friends.

Wesker darted off down the narrow backstreet, his speed allowing him to cover more ground then the mere human could in the five minute head start he had. It didn’t take long for Wesker to catch up. The man was running for his life toward the light of another street but he’d never make it there. Wesker rushed in behind him and launched his hand forward, digging into the man’s back with his fingers and enclosing them around the narrow scaffold of his spine. The tyrant braked to a sudden halt and wrenched the bone right out of his body.

A blood curdling scream filled the air. It was almost music to Wesker’s ears. The man crumpled to the ground, paralyzed and bleeding profusely from his gaping wound.

“I’m almost sad the chase didn’t last longer.” Wesker chuckled, tossing aside what was left of his back. He prowled closer to his writhing prey, who was uselessly trying to crawl away using his arms.

“Oh god, oh god…” he wept through his teeth. Wesker released another cold and sinister chuckle.

“That’s right.” He halted his strides when he approached the man’s head. “Your god is standing right here.”

“…p-please.”

Wesker’s laughter grew louder in volume and darker in essence.

“Soon I’ll hear Chris beg me in the same way.” he crooned. He lifted his foot and planted it on the man’s head. “I might even kill him in the same way.” he entertained the thought as he added more pressure on his sobbing victim’s skull. “It would definitely be quite the spectacle.”

He slammed his heel down, the man’s head crushing like an egg under his strength and bursting outward with a mixture of blood and brain matter on the dirty alley floor. The sobs and wails were instantly silenced. Wesker lifted his boot up to shake off the excess gore. He took a step back to appreciate the newly decorated alleyway with a swell of pride.

It was definitely a work of art

Chapter Text

"Six billion cries of agony will birth a new balance. Unfortunately, it's too late for you. You will not live to see the dawn." – Albert Wesker.

 

It was during the ungodly hours of dawn when Wesker finally admitted to himself that he was lost. Though how he managed to get so turned around in the first place was absolutely mindboggling. Chris’s apartment wasn’t that far from where he chased down those thugs. However, if that were really true then he should have found it by now.

It was still dark out but the sky was changing from black to blue and the stars were starting to fade. Dusk felt like an hour ago yet the sun was swiftly approaching. Wesker couldn’t believe hours had passed already. He hadn’t spent that long gloating over the death of his victims. He hadn’t been lost for that long either.

Had he?

He let out a low groan of exasperation and looked around the unfamiliar street.

He’s never been one get lost.

I’m not incompetent. I’m just… tired, Yes tired. Because he hadn’t slept all day and he stalked Leon halfway through town, then killed four people. So yes getting lost was completely justified. Or so, that’s what he kept telling himself to not feel like a complete imbecile.

He gave himself a moment to regather his thoughts, leaning against a nearby building to rest. A jab of pain instantly flared across his back and a hiss of breath escaped him. He quickly leaned away from the wall and shot a glance over his shoulder.

Fuck. I’m a fucking idiot, he castigated himself, spotting the knife that one of the thugs had stabbed him with earlier still buried to the hilt between his shoulder blades. He must have been insanely high on adrenaline to completely forget about it. The back of his shirt was soaked in blood, not to mention a trail of it had been left in his waking footsteps.

Low on energy and now low on blood, it was no wonder he couldn’t remember which way to go…

His mood turned grim but something suddenly occurred to him. He looked back down at the trail of blood he left behind.

I can retrace my footsteps to that alleyway where I killed those insects. Leon’s street hadn’t been too far from there and once I get my baring’s I can seek out Chris’s apartment again, He tried to reassure himself but his head was starting to feel light and his vision grew blurry. Wesker shook himself out of it and pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t how his night was supposed to go. Chris should have been dead by now. Yet here the tyrant was, nearly dead himself.

With teeth clenched Wesker reached back for the knife, fingers searching desperately for the handle. The strain in his muscles screamed in protest as the nerves around the blade tore open from the stretch.

Fuck.” Wesker snarled, letting his hand fall away. He couldn’t reach it without risking more blood loss. And the last thing he wanted was to pass out in the open like this.

He ignored the knife for now and turned his attention to the brightening sky. Despite the vengeance thrumming through his core, the more rational part of his mind said he had other things to worry about. Morning would come soon and with it, people. He couldn’t risk being seen by anyone. Returning to Chris’s apartment probably wasn’t the smartest idea either. He’s lost too much blood and he’d be damned if he put himself in the position to ever be bested by Redfield again.

That only left him with one real option. Which was to go back to Leon’s place.

Wesker hesitated on that thought. He honestly hadn’t planned on going back to Leon after killing Chris. But then… he hadn’t killed Chris yet so he supposed he could make a slight change in plans. Though, this rather complicated things. He couldn’t just waltz back to Leon’s apartment after being gone all night. The agent would definitely demand some answers. Answers Wesker wouldn’t be inclined to give.

Maybe he could just go somewhere else. Hide out somewhere until he could heal up again. But then where would he go? Leon’s place was the only place he knew.

Maybe I can just kill him…Wesker thought to himself. Besides, that’s what he told the assailant in the alleyway. That Leon was his to kill. He might as well do it now. It was as good a time as any. The tyrant didn’t need him anymore and after he killed Leon then he could use his home to recover for a few days before finally putting an end to that insufferable brunette.

Yes, that was a good plan. He was strong enough to do the deed. He might be a bit drained at the moment but he’d have the element of surprise. He could still crush concrete with his fist. So crushing Leon’s skull shouldn’t be a challenge.

With a firm resolve, Wesker started to follow his blood trail back the way he came.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

He managed to find his way back to the same alleyway where he killed those thugs. Only it wasn’t exactly in the same state he left it in because this time, the place was bustling with an array of activity.

Fuck, Wesker cursed himself, diving into the depths of a shadowy corner just as a pair of cops patrolled the perimeter of the crime scene. The area was crawling with investigators and spectators. How the hell did a crowd this big gather in such a short amount of time? He wasn’t expecting anyone to find the bodies until late morning. Unless it already was late morning. In which case his sense of time was even more askew then he originally thought.

“…you alright, man?” a voice drifted above the background prattle.

Wesker recognized that voice. He’d recognize it anywhere.

As if on cue, Chris Redfield walked into view.

Every muscle in Wesker’s body grew tense and alert. His fingers twitched on reflex. Eager to rip apart the BSAA agent limb from limb. The overwhelming urge to kill overrode his senses. And the fact that it seemed all too easy made it that much more tempting to oblige.

The brunette was so close, Wesker could just reach out and grab him by the scruff of his neck before dragging him deeper into the shadows and ripping out his heart. All with spare time to climb to the roof before anyone noticed what happened. It must have been fate that practically brought Chris right into his hands.

But then something stopped Wesker just before he could lunge forward.

“I didn’t sleep a wink…” the sound of Leon’s warm drawl reached his ears.

What the fuck was he doing here?!

Wesker’s jaw was clamped so tight he didn’t even realize it until it started hurting. Leon sauntered up alongside Chris, the both of them steadily making their way closer to the tapped off crime scene.

“Did something happen?” Chris asked. Wesker was stewing in fury and annoyance at just hearing him alone. He couldn’t believe Chris was this close yet… so fucking far away. And all because Leon was standing right next to him.

Wesker tried to think this through. Maybe this was actually for the better. With both of them here and distracted then he could kill them at the same time. Two birds with one stone.

Yes. This was actually more convenient. But he’d have to kill them both simultaneously, or risk one of them fighting him off and saving the other. His eye’s scanned the easiest places to target. The necks would be best. If he could get a hand around each of their necks, he could just snap them in a second.

It wouldn’t be all that fun, especially considering how much he wanted to torture Chris. But this way, he could just get it over with and move on to bigger and better things.

Like world domination.

Wesker crouched forward, getting ready to pounce on his two imprudent victims. He’d been so caught up in his homicidal strategy that he nearly missed the bulk of what their conversation was about.

“I think my cat ran away.” Leon was saying, looking conflicted over his choice of words.

Wesker froze in his prowling movements, eyes narrowing in on Leon.

He’s not talking about me, Wesker simmered. He better not be fucking talking about me.

Because the last thing he needed today was Leon acting like his damn owner of all fucking things.

“Your cat? Since when did you have a cat?” bemused Chris, with a lifted eyebrow.

“Uh…since…two months ago?” Leon didn’t even sound sure of himself.

“Didn’t take you for a cat person.”

“Yeah me neither.” Leon admitted with a nervous laugh. “But it sort of …ended up on my doorstep.”

Chris chuckled.

“And you’ve just been taking care of this stray cat since then?”

“Yeah… but he didn’t come home last night…” said Leon, his tone turning a lower octave in gloominess. A part of Wesker’s heart lurched at the sound of it. He couldn’t explain why but he didn’t like the tone of Leon’s voice. It made him feel…guilty somehow. And he’s never felt guilty about anything before.

Wesker watched them pass by and move out of his reach before he could remind himself that he was supposed to be killing them. He gritted his teeth and punched the wall beside him, leaving a hole forever embedded in the bricks. He could still hear their voices being carried off on the wind.

 “Hm… Well, cats are fickle. If you only had him for two months he probably went to the next warm home to eat and sleep.” reasoned Chris.

That’s a fucking lie!

Wesker almost shouted it out loud if only to prove Chris wrong. Because if there was one thing he kept a firm belief in, it was that Chris Redfield was a clueless buffoon. That idiot had stupid principles along with stupid morals. And the world be damned if he was ever right about something.

The tyrant forced himself to calm down. He was getting too worked up over this. He needed to come up with another plan again because he just missed his chance at killing the dynamic duo. Maybe at this point it might be better to kill them separately. Trying to target both of them at the same time was too risky anyway. He should probably do what he initially devised and go back to Leon’s apartment to ambush him there. Then rest up and get rid of Chris afterwards.

With his plan reestablished, Wesker began to sneak away from the crime scene and back to Leon’s apartment, hearing the voices of Chris and Leon fade further away along with their dwindling conversation. Which had changed topic when they finally saw the state of Wesker’s victims.

“What the fuck… you think this is why they called us in on a simple homicide?” Leon’s voice echoed.

“…this isn’t a simple homicide…” Chris’s voice resonated down the alley, sounding eerily detached and haunted at the same time. “…I’ve seen something like this before…but it’s not possible…”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

By the time Wesker found Leon’s apartment the sun was fully out. He was almost worried that Leon had already returned home. But the tyrant assured himself he could still get the jump on him since the agent wouldn’t be expecting anyone to sneak in through the window. Wesker didn’t have any keys so it was his only point of entry. He scaled up the fire escape and jimmied the living room window open. He slid it up halfway and paused to listen for any movement inside.

Nothing but silence greeted him. Wesker crawled through the window headfirst, being careful not to make a sound just in case Leon really was home. He was nearly halfway through when a sudden jolt of pain shot through every nerve in his body from the knife catching against the window frame. His hands instantly seized the edges of the sill in a grip so harsh it made the wood splinter.

Fuck, Wesker gritted his teeth, trying hard not to lose his shit. He rose his hand to the pane to slide it up higher but ended up breaking the glass in the process.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Wesker growled. The fucking thing was as flimsy as paper. Shards of glass landed onto the living room floor and Wesker scowled at the blood that dotted in between the spaces. He must have cut his hand at the same time. He pushed the burning sting aside as he shouldered the frame up higher in order to drag himself all the way in at last.

After a moment of catching his breath, he staggered to his feet and shot a final look at the window behind him. He nearly groaned with annoyance. The whole thing was a mess of broken glass and bloody handprints. Leon definitely wasn’t going to be happy about that.

Then again, the agent would have other things to worry about once he got home. Assuming he wasn’t home already. The tyrant prowled through the apartment, looking through each room carefully until he got to Leon’s bedroom. He pushed the door open slowly, scanning the area for any sign of the agent.

“Leon?” Wesker called, hesitantly.

No answer. He was definitely gone. Wesker let out a weary sigh and figured he should probably try and patch himself up before the other man returned. He walked into the bathroom and flicked on the lights; nearly jumping in terror at the person staring back at him.

He was covered in blood, a mixture of his victim’s and his own. His eyes were also glowing red. Wesker blinked a few times, trying to get them to return to normal. But he wasn’t having any luck this time. He let out a short huff and decided to worry about it later, turning around to focus on a bigger problem. He looked at the mirror from over his shoulder and saw that the knife in his back had shifted downward. Probably due to catching on the window.

Wesker might be able to reach it more efficiently now. He lifted his hand back, extending his fingers to the stained blade and wrapping them easily around the handle. He gave a swift yank, sliding the knife out in one fluid motion. He hissed in pain as more blood began to flow from the wound but luckily it wasn’t bleeding for long. The wound was even starting to seal up right before his eyes. It didn’t heal completely though. It was left raw and open but Wesker didn’t doubt that it would be gone within a day.

He just needed to take it easy in the meantime. That aside, he still had to face Leon first. The tyrant contemplated on how he was going to kill him. He supposed he could just settle for breaking the agent’s neck. It would be less of a mess and less of a hassle.

In the midst of his premeditation, the lights of the room began to grow dim. No, not the lights. His vision. Wesker shook his head, struggling to focus.

This can’t be happening, he’s gotten this far. How could he be shutting down now?

…to much blood… I lost too much blood… The knowledge came too late. Before he could do anything about it, he was already blacking out.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

The room was spinning, making him nauseous. His vision was a mash up of black and white. Everything appeared distorted.

Disoriented.

He even forget where he was. But a voice in the backgrounded drew his mind out of the fog. A voice he recognized despite it’s state of anxiety and panic.

“What the fuck-” a gasp seized the air. “Al!”

He felt his body get moved around, like a lifeless puppet at the whims of its master, until he found himself cradled in Leon’s strong and protective arms.

“What the hell happened to you?” Leon’s voice flowed through his ears. Wesker focused his eyes on Leon’s face, which held an unsettled look that matched the pitch of his voice.

“Leon…” he was almost relieved to see that familiar face, until he remembered what he came here to do.

The tyrant lifted a poised hand, stretching out toward Leon’s bare throat. Wesker was in worse shape than he would admit but that hardly put him at a disadvantage with Leon so close and so unguarded. His fingertips were only centimeters from that delicate and fragile neck when his cold hand was suddenly clasped in a contrastingly warm one. He tensed and shifted his eyes to Leon’s, meeting a gaze so vulnerable that his lungs forgot how to operate.

“I was worried...” confessed Leon, expression twisting slightly with regret. “Fuck, I… I actually thought you ran away.”

Wesker's heart swayed in his chest and for a split second he completely forgot about revenge and murder; for his mind was fully occupied by the innocent and purely concerned look Leon was giving him. His eyes held the depth of an ocean and Wesker never noticed how blue they were before.

Or how beautiful.

“But I’m glad you came back.” Leon continued in a soft and palliative tone. “…I’m glad I got to see you again.” His words had Wesker’s barriers crumbling; causing him cave to the flood of emotions he’s been fighting against this entire time.

“I’m sorry…” Wesker spoke, his voice a tormented note of guilt and regret. Leon looked confused.

“For what?” the agent asked quietly.

“…for breaking your window.”

For plotting to kill you.

“And ruining your clothes.”

And murdering four people in your name.

Wesker hesitated before continuing,

“I know you hate it when I trash your shit.”

You’d probably hate me if you knew the truth.

“Al,” Leon’s tone was a gentle chastise. “You don’t have to worry about any of that now.”

Why are you so fucking perfect? Why did Leon so easily just accept it? And why was he so unconditionally caring? He was everything that was brave and good in the world.

And Wesker hated the fact that he couldn’t hate him.

Chapter Text

"Seven minutes. Seven minutes is all I can spare to play with you." – Albert Wesker.

“Does it hurt?”

“Just my ego.”

Leon chuckled. The agent had done an expert job in taking care of him. Like always. But Wesker wasn’t thrilled that this had become a normal occurrence. He didn’t want to kill Leon anymore but that didn’t mean he wanted him as his caretaker either.

After cleaning him up in the shower and providing some clean sweatpants, the agent had Wesker lay face down on the bed to treat his wound.

“I think you might need stitches.” Leon commented, his careful fingers examining the lesion.

“I don’t need stitches…” Wesker refused. He heard Leon let out a jaded sigh behind him.

“Whatever. I’m not going to hold you down and force a needle in your back. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let it get infected.”

That made Wesker slightly apprehensive but before he could demanded what Leon meant, he felt some sort of liquid pour onto his cut. A moment later, sizzling bubbles hissed into his open flesh. His muscles locked up and he shot a scowl over his shoulder, spotting the peroxide bottle in Leon’s hand.

“You fucking asshole!” Wesker barked. He honestly doubted he needed to worry about the wound getting infected. He was pretty sure it’d heal by tomorrow anyway. But Leon didn’t know that.

“A ‘thank you’ would have sufficed.” muttered Leon, tearing open a sticky packet of gaze and applying it to Wesker’s back. “Would it kill you to show a little gratitude? At the very least you could’ve said: ‘hey Leon thanks so much for taking care of me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’” the agent impersonated a horrible British accent.

“Go to hell.”

“I’ve already been there.” countered Leon somewhat smugly. He laid the first aid box aside before climbing off the bed. “You're pale. Which means you probably lost a lot of blood. You’re going to need to eat something so your body can replenish it. I’ll go for a food run. What do you want?” asked Leon, moving about the room as he put on his jacket and shoes.

“…I want you to stay.” Wesker said instead. His words caused Leon to pause. But it wasn’t too long before his movements picked back up again.

“I’ll be back soon.” the agent assured. “I don’t have any food in the apartment so I don’t really have a choice.” After he was ready he turned his gaze back on Wesker. “What do you want me to bring?”

“I guess I don’t care.”

Leon rolled his eyes.

“Tacos it is then.” He turned to leave the room but not before casting one last look over his shoulder. “…try to stay put.” Leon stated.

“Where else am I going to go?”

Leon smirked and then the bedroom door closed behind him, leaving Wesker alone to consider his current predicament. Leon seemed rather amiable at the moment but Wesker presumed that it was only an image that the agent was trying to uphold. It was more realistic for him to be chary of Wesker’s return. Underneath that phlegmatic exterior he probably was. And Wesker would be stupid to think Leon wouldn’t demand any answers once he got back.

He was wrong.

When Leon came back Wesker was half asleep but he became fully conscious at the sound of the door opening and clicking shut. He heard the ruffle of a plastic bag as Leon set something that smelled warm and delicious on the bedside table.

“I went with chicken tacos. I hope you like it.” said Leon, shooting a glance at Wesker and seeing him without a blanket. He grabbed the edge of the comforter and pulled it over him.

“I’m not cold.” Wesker informed.

“Hm… You usually are.” A few seconds passed before he added, “And I mean that both figuratively and literally.”

Wesker frowned and a light smile quirked up the corner of Leon’s mouth before he moved away.

“You should probably get some rest after you eat. You can tell me what happened in the morning…” His voice then lowered. “…though I’m not assuming you’d actually tell me anything. Not that I really mind. You’re not a man of many words anyway.” he started to leave but Wesker grasped his wrist before he got too far.

“Wait.”

Leon stopped and turned to look at him.

“…do you really mean that?” questioned Wesker in disbelief. Because how can anyone not want an explanation after all this time? How could anyone be that careless about the company they kept?

“Even after everything…after everything that happened and everything you don’t know-”

“And what do I need to know?” Leon interrupted him. “Other than the fact that you’re hurt and need my help?” He then shifted his eyes to the floor, seemingly reluctant to continue but in the end he did, “It’s already enough to know that you’re alright. Does anything else really matter?”

The affirmation left Wesker momentarily speechless. The way Leon said those words… they held nothing but raw honesty. Like there was truly nothing else in the world that was more important to him.

Wesker tightened his grip around the agent’s wrist and tugged him closer.

“And why do I matter so much to you, Leon?”

Leon didn’t say anything for what seemed like an eternity. The silence that hung in the space between them was enough to drive Wesker crazy. He was just about to press the agent for an answer when he finally broke the terse air.

“Because I already invested so much time and energy into getting you better.” the younger man trained a longsuffering gaze back on Wesker. “…I’m practically in debt at this point.”

After the words left his mouth he gave Wesker one of his irrefutable smirks, one that masked the deeper emotions lurking behind those blue eyes, and slipped his wrist out of the tyrant’s grasp.

“Now get some rest, asshole.”

Wesker stared after Leon as he left the room and closed the door. Probably gone to clean up the living room and bathroom. All without questioning Wesker further. All without demanding some sort of compensation in return.

An overwhelming emotion constricted around Wesker's ribcage, making it feel hopelessly garroted. For some weird reason the sensation had him remembering all the victims he’s killed by tearing their hearts out of their chests. He’s never wondered how it would feel to watch your heart get stolen right before your eyes by someone you couldn’t fight against.

But now that he thought about it, he supposed it would feel a lot like this.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

He was drowning.

He didn’t know how he ended up here, in an endless ocean with an unseen force that pulled him further into the darkness. All he knew was that he needed to get out. Needed to swim to the surface. He struggled under water. The air was running out of his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. And the shadows that stretched up from the depths of the sea blocked out his view of the light above.

I can’t die like this, Wesker’s thoughts were desperate as panic began to settle in. The light was starting to fade as he was pulled further down. His lungs weakly fluttered.

It can’t end like this!

Wesker suddenly awoke.

It was early in the morning. The sun was barely shining through the curtains and it felt like a ton of bricks was pressing on his chest. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked down, spotting the source of his burden. It wasn’t a ton of bricks that was lying on top of him. It was Leon. The agent was sleeping soundly, looking downright comfortable with using Wesker as a pillow. A look of annoyance flashed over Wesker’s face as he pushed Leon off of him, feeling the air properly fill his lungs once he liberated himself from the weight of another body. He heard Leon complain in a wordless grumble before he began to stir from his slumber.

“…ugh, where’s the fire…” Leon yawned drowsily.

“In the kitchen.” Wesker falsely informed, causing the younger man to instantly sit up in panic.

“Shit! For real?” He looked over at Wesker in distress. His apprehension made the tyrant actually smile.

“False alarm.”

Leon frowned, then grabbed one of the pillows and hit him in the face.

“You asshole.” But there was a hint of endearment in Leon’s voice. A chuckle left Wesker’s lips. He grabbed the pillow on his face and whacked Leon back with it, hitting him hard enough to knock the agent over.

“Damn, no need to go all gung-ho on me.” Leon complained, rubbing a hand over his wounded face. “Didn’t expect you to even be able to sit up.” He lowered his hand and looked over at Wesker. “…how are you feeling by the way? Are you in any pain?” Leon asked, his tone switching to a note of concern.

“I’m fine.” replied Wesker, he could still feel a slight tingling between his shoulder blades but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t walk off.

“I’m glad to hear it.” said Leon, looking relieved with a soft smile on his lips. Wesker’s eyes shifted to his mouth. His lips looked as soft as his smile. The tyrant didn’t even realize how long he’d been quiet until Leon spoke up again. “Is something wrong?”

Wesker gaze returned to Leon’s, noting how bluer the agents eyes were in the sunlight. They really were like a boundless ocean. An ocean that Wesker was drowning in.

“I need to tell you something.” Wesker quietly averred. Leon’s features slowly inclined in curiosity.

“What do you need to tell me?”

Even in his puzzlement he didn’t appear distrustful. Rather the contrary. He looked at Wesker with an air of trust and belief that he was anything but a heartless monster. Even when he was covered in blood, Leon continued to not assume the worst in him. Wesker wondered if Leon would still look at him the same way if he learned the truth. Because at this point, nothing seemed to faze Mr. Cavalier in the slightest.

“It’s about last night…” Wesker began, somewhat hesitant on continuing. But after everything Leon’s done for him, he at least deserved to know this, “The reason I came home like that was because… I went looking for revenge.”

Leon looked somewhat cynical with the information.

“What? Why?” He asked. Wesker turned quiet, deliberating on what to say next. But Leon was quick to speculate. “Is this because of what happened to you when I first found you?”

“Yes.” Wesker admitted. The answer didn’t calm the agent down at all. It actually seemed to unsettle him even more.

“What the hell, man? Do you honestly think revenge is the answer? What if they killed you?” Leon questioned in disapproval.

“That would never happen.” stated Wesker. Because first of all, they were dead. And second of all, he knew well enough by now that he couldn’t die. Leon, however, wasn’t inclined to agree.

“It’s that kind of mentality that gets you into these situations.” Leon stated, his tone growing in anger. “Fuck, when I found you on my bathroom floor last night I thought… I thought…” he struggled with the words before exhaling a steady breath to calm his mind. “I thought you were dead.” he sounded so upset with the thought. With the memory.

And it had Wesker speaking out of turn.

“I’m sorry.”

Leon scoffed in disbelief.

“Are you? Because if you are, then you’ll promise to never pull that kind of shit again.” he gave Wesker an irrefutable look. Wesker gave him a questioning one in return.

“You want me to promise?”

“Yes. Promise you want go looking for trouble. That you won’t leave again... not without saying goodbye at least.”

Wesker stilled at the words. Why would he promise those things when he wasn’t even sincere about them? Why tie himself down to something so trivial? Something so seemingly unimportant?

Though, when Wesker looked into Leon’s eyes he could see that it was important. And if it was important to Leon then Wesker supposed it was worth giving him his word if it meant that it would make the agent happy in some way.

“I promise.”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

Early December. The air was cold and crisp with the fresh snowfall. The temperature probably bordered on freezing, yet the tyrant could hardly feel it’s demoralizing affects. The only thing he could feel was a mild chill and it was all thanks to the convalesced virus burning through his blood stream. Leon on the other hand was practically shaking in his boots as the both of them left footprints down the jogging trail.

“Fuck, how are you not shivering?” the agent complained.

“I guess I’m used to it.” Wesker warded off. “You know, it was your idea to come out here in the first place.” he reminded in slight annoyance.

“I was trying to do something nice for you.”

“You call being out in freezing weather nice?” inquired Wesker, not that he was actually bothered by the winter gale but he was bothered by the fact he was dragged away from Leon’s warm bed for some required exercise. Ever since he recovered from the knife wound and the immeasurable blood loss, the agent’s been harping on about physically therapy and why it’s important for strengthening muscles. That didn’t matter in Wesker’s case but if he didn’t want Leon needlessly questioning him about his abnormalities then he had to play along with this whole recovery spiel.

“It’s not like I need you with me if I wanted to go out for a walk in the park anyway.” Wesker went on matter-of-factly.

“Oh really? If I wasn’t here then how would you be able to have a snowball fight?”

“What-”

Something cold and icy hit the back of his head. He turned to aim a scowl at Leon.

“Try not to act like a child for five minutes.”

Leon let out a laugh.

“Try not to act like there’s a stick up your ass.” the agent snarked back. Wesker finally had enough. He ducked down just as another snowball flew over his head and grabbed a handful of snow in his fist before chucking it back at Leon. The snowball hit the younger man square in the face.

It caused Wesker to chuckle.

“Ten points for slytherin .”

“Making you binge-watch those movies was a mistake.” Leon regretted, wiping the snow off his face.

“As I've said. Before you made me watch them.” Wesker retorted. Leon released another laugh, bending down to form a second ball of snow in his palms.

“If I recall correctly, you started to like them.” noted Leon, throwing a curveball, which Wesker easily dodged.

“The only thing I liked was Dumbledore dying.” stated Wesker. Leon gasped in dramatic outrage.

“You heartless bastard.”

Wesker smirked, you have no idea. He threw a snowball that was hiding behind his back and it landed directly on the agent’s forehead.

“That’s another ten points for slytherin.”

“Twenty points deducted for smirking.”

“You don’t make the rules!” Wesker argued, but he was hardly taking this seriously as he laughed and threw snowballs with the agent. Their battle carried them across the park and to the edge of the woods that enclosed the snow covered trail. Leon broke off into a run to gain cover behind the trees.

“That’s cheating!” Wesker called.

“It’s called strategic thinking! You should try it for once!” Leon mocked from within the small forest. Wesker dove into the woods and caught sight of Leon dashing further past the trees. Wesker chuckled and followed suit.

“There isn’t much strategy in fleeing, Leon.”

“Who says I’m fleeing?” Leon’s voice was an obvious goad to get him further into the woods but Wesker only realized that a moment too late. He’d lost sight of Leon but he’d been tracking his footprints in a fast sprint. The footprints however had suddenly ended beside a wide Oaktree. A foot stuck out in front of him before Wesker could slow his strides and he was sent head first into the snow. He heard Leon’s infuriating laughter erupt behind him before a snowball hit him in the face.

“Twenty points for gryffindor.”

Wesker growled, standing up to dust the snow off his clothes.

“Twenty points seems rather generous.” he carped.

“Don’t be such a sore loser.”

“Wait so I’m the loser?” Wesker protested.

“Yeah, you were obviously just K.O’d.” Leon informed. Wesker gave him a challenging stare.

“Is that so?”

Leon sensed the mischievous threat in his words. He backed away.

“Don’t you dare.” Leon intoned. But he could tell he wasn’t simply walking away from this one. He turned and ran but Wesker was quickly upon him, barricading him against the trunk of the tree with his arms and pinning him in place.

A defeated laugh escaped Leon despite the odds and Wesker smirked as he held up a snowball in one of his hands. Leon’s laughter stopped, his expression a mixture of surprise and exasperation.

“Oh come on, how the hell did you even make one that fast-” his words were cut off by the cold flakes of ice smashing into his face. Wesker chuckled.

“Fifty points for overkill.”

Leon laughed through the snow before wiping it away with his hand.

“Alright, alright. You win.” Leon surrendered, shaking his head to dislodge the ice that was stuck to the strands of his hair. Before Wesker thought about what he was doing, his hand extended to Leon’s head and brushed off the remaining clumps of snow. An appreciate smile grew on Leon’s face and Wesker, just now coming to terms with his actions, retracted his hand. But before it could completely fall away, Leon gripped it in his own.

“Thanks.” said Leon. The agent’s hand felt cold. It made Wesker remember a time when it was the other way around. Where he was cold and Leon was the warm one. And Leon seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“Your skin is warm.” Leon couldn’t help but comment. His gaze wasn’t pointed at where their hands were joined but instead trained on Wesker’s face. Like he was seeing something there that Wesker couldn’t see himself. “…just like your eyes.”

The words were murmured in distraction. What exactly was Leon looking at that had him so entranced? The agent inched forward like he wanted to get a closer look. The air that seeped past his lips was warm and cloudy. Wisps of condensation teased Wesker’s skin because of how close they were standing.

Wesker's eyes glanced down to Leon’s lips which were barely a breath before his own. He noticed that even in this unforgiving cold they weren’t chapped or faded. Instead, they appeared soft and smooth. And Wesker wondered if that’s how they would feel against his own lips. Soft and pliant. Smooth and yielding. It wasn’t long after conjecturing the feel of them when he began questioning the taste of them. Would they taste like the cold snow around them? Or perhaps they’d still carry a hint of breakfast from this morning. Maybe he’d taste the remnants of coffee on the agent’s tongue. Leon did always enjoy his coffee in the mornings. Wesker didn’t doubt that he would enjoy it as well.

A flock of snow birds fluttered from the tree overhead, startling them both.

“Shit.” Leon huffed out in a short laugh, looking up. “Those birds almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Yeah…same here.” Wesker lied, if only to avert the attention away from what he’d been fantasizing about.

Leon let out another laugh at his admission and moved away,  trance broken, like there was nothing ever there to begin with.

“I’m hungry. You?” asked Leon casually. There was something hidden in that expression that made Wesker question if food had really been on the agent’s mind this whole time. But instead, he followed Leon’s swift retreat.

“Starving.” Wesker answered.

“Well, I hope you’re craving for Subway. Cause that’s the closest thing to us.” Leon chuckled. Little did he know there was something else that Wesker was craving for.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

Wesker asked himself how long things were going to stay like this. For the past few weeks after that knifing incident the two of them had fallen into a different routine. The both of them helped make breakfast together now that Wesker was more physically active. Leon would go to work and then come home with takeout. Which they ate while watching some drivel on TV or Netflix. Though it wasn’t always like that. Sometimes they’d talk, but most of the time they'd annoy each other. Sometimes Leon would ask him stupid things like what his favorite color was. Sometimes Leon would tell him what a shit day he had at work, or just talk shit in general about a coworker he hated.

And Wesker…didn’t actually mind. He was even content with it. So content, that he forgot about devising some world domination scheme in the weeks that followed after Thanksgiving.

He really had lost sight of what he stood for. It even bothered him a little.

But what really bothered him was the fact that Leon didn’t ask him when he was leaving. Was the agent just content in letting him stay indefinitely? The notion seemed ridiculous. Then again, Leon wasn’t the kind of guy to plan too far ahead. He probably was happy to let things stay just the way they were. Yet Wesker was smart enough to know that nothing lasts forever.

Especially after a certain dream he had one night that changed his prospective on everything.

Wesker was back at the park. Snow blanketed everything in sight. The grass, the trees, even the sky, where a continuous supply of it steadily fell from the clouds. The air was cold and fragile. Broken only by the soft breaths that escaped his and Leon’s lips. They were under that icy oak tree with Leon’s back against the trunk, barricaded by Wesker’s taller and broader stature. A shiver rolled through Leon’s body and in response, Wesker drew the younger man further into his arms.

“Are you cold, Leon?” Wesker asked.

“No.” was the agent’s reply, his voice a soothing timbre to Wesker’s ears. “Even if I was, I’m pretty sure you’d just set me on fire to keep me warm.”

“I’d never do that.” Wesker denied. Perhaps to anyone other then Leon. But never Leon.

“Really, Wesker?”

That should’ve been the first sign that this was nothing but a senseless dream. Because if Leon really knew who he was, he’d never let him this close.

“Really.” Wesker affirmed. Then again, if this really was nothing but a dream, then it was one Wesker didn’t want to wake up from. If for just this once he could have something that he couldn't dream of having outside his mind, then he was going to exploit it to the fullest extent.

“I wish you could be this accepting in real life.” Wesker murmured.

“Am I not accepting enough for you? You did break most of my stuff and came home covered in blood. Yet I’d let you do it all over again and still accept you into my bed.”

Wesker chuckled. Because that sounded exactly like something Leon would say.

“Even in my dreams you’re like him in every way.” Wesker was almost impressed with how his mind could conjure in exact replica of the agent. But that’s all it was when it came down to it. A replica. “…I wish I could have you in every way.” He confessed in a hushed whisper. Even in his mind, he didn’t trust that the secret was out.

“You can.” spoke Leon, though it sounded changed somehow. Wesker hardly paid it any thought as his lips suddenly met Leon’s in a long awaited kiss. The agent’s lips were as smooth and soft as he’d imagined them in real life, matched with the practiced movements that only a dream could adapt to.

want you to touch me… Wesker was thinking, and in the next moment Leon’s hands were on him as if he was literally in his head and reading his mind. His fingers moved down the front of Wesker’s torso until they reached the hem of his jeans. They were unbuttoned and unzipped and a moment later Leon’s hand wrapped around him with a gentleness he’s only felt when the agent was treating his wounds.

Wesker released a quiet moan against Leon’s mouth and the agent licked along his lips before slipping his tongue inside. His hand began a slow rhythm up and down Wesker’s hardening length and it caused the tyrant’s hips to cant up into his touch, eliciting another moan from his throat. His hands griped the trunk on either side of Leon, fingers clenching against the bark until his knuckles turned white and the tree creaked in protest.

…wish this wasn’t a dream…wish this was real… Wesker’s thoughts yearned.

“You can make it real.” Leon murmured against his lips, giving a lingering squeeze at the base of his dick.

You’d never accept me in real life.

“Do I need to?”

The words seemed out of character for him. And Wesker was so lost in the feeling of Leon against him and touching him that he hadn’t realized the younger man's voice had steadily changed pitch.

‘You could just hold me down, you know.’

Wesker nearly bristled at the thoughts in his head. They almost sounded like they were said by someone else. But he decided to push his trepidation aside. This was just a dream after all. He lifted a hand off the tree and cupped Leon’s face in his palm, turning it towards him for another kiss.

I could never hurt you.

‘I might like it though.’ That definitely wasn’t Leon’s voice. And this definitely wasn’t Leon.

Wesker pulled away but upon doing so something pulled with him. Something black like tar that was stuck to the surface of his skin.

What the fuck. Wesker’s eyes grew wide as the image of Leon changed into something else entirely. Something that embodied nothing but a mass of thrashing and convulsing parasites that sprouted out and tangled their threadbare vines around Wesker’s limbs.

Uroboros.

Of all the things to use against Wesker it had to choose Leon.

 The tyrant snarled, struggling to tear himself away from the black snares.

‘he’s so close to you. You can have him. You can infect him!’

“No!” Wesker shouted, ripping himself away.

He woke up with a gasp, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. An uneasy sense of dread griped his entire being and he sat up to look around the room before spotting a distorted black mass hovering at the foot of the bed.

On instinct, Wesker snatched the lamp off the bedside table and chucked it at the shadow in the room. Hitting his target dead center and causing the glass to break into pieces upon impact.

“Fuck! What the fuck!”

Wesker froze at Leon’s voice. A second later the lights flicked on, revealing a very displeased Leon with a streak of blood running down his arm.

“What the fuck, Al.” Leon snapped, he gestured to the mess on the floor. “This is exactly why I can’t have nice things.”

“Leon-” Wesker broke off, feeling overwhelmingly mortified and desolate. “…I’m so sorry.” He can’t remember a time before meeting Leon when he’s ever apologized for anything. Yet Leon’s presence alone had him regretting his entire existence.

Leon let out an exhausted sigh and turned away from him.

“Whatever. I’ll clean it up when I get back from work. They called me in early and I was trying not to wake you while I got ready.”

Oh.

The agent went to the bathroom to clean himself up. Wesker wanted to shrink under the covers. Leon seemed genuinely angry this time. It wasn’t something that Wesker was used to seeing on the usually calm and collected man.

Said man returned a few minutes later with a new bandaged arm to grab his jacket and slip in on. He moved toward the door but then stopped and looked back at Wesker. Almost apologetically. And if Wesker had to guess why, it would probably be for yelling earlier.

“Try not to break anything else. Alright?” said Leon in a lighter tone.

He then left the room and Wesker heard the front door open and close before being alone again. Perhaps it was for the better. For both their sakes. If he continued going on like this then… he wasn’t sure what would happen. Leon definitely wasn’t safe with him. Not when Wesker was so insecure about the virus dwelling in his body. And the last thing he wanted was to hurt Leon again. Which meant he had to leave.

Wesker convinced himself that leaving wasn’t a big deal. Especially since he’s been by himself for the majority of his life. He knew how to live without anyone else. Aside that, the prospect of being alone wasn’t something that could negatively affect him in an obstructive way.

After all, he was used to it.