Title: Side Effects May Include...

Pairing: Albert Wesker/Chris Redfield

A/N: I don't own Chris and Wesker, because if I did, things would be different. I wrote this for fun, and I'm not profiting from it at all. The things that are in italics are thoughts.

Chapter One:

The last thing Chris remembered before the darkness took him was sitting at his desk, typing out an email to Claire. He remembered surfacing from his unconsciousness at one point, but then he felt a sharp pain in his arm and passed back out. He woke up on a gurney in a strange white room. His wrists and ankles were bound to the gurney by thick grey straps. He yanked experimentally on one of them, but was not at all surprised when it didn't give an inch. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, Chris took as much of a look around the room as the straps would allow.

The room appeared to be some type of laboratory. There was a table to his left with dozens of Petri dishes and beakers on it. There was also a dry-erase board with complex mathematical equations written on it in neat, blocky black letters. A bunch of X-rays were tacked up on the wall next to the dry-erase board.

Where the hell am I? Chris thought to himself. While he was pondering the possibilities, he could feel a certain degree of panic rising in this chest, but his rational mind was able to keep in under control.

Somewhere behind him, he heard an automatic door open, followed by footsteps and part of a conversation.

"The tests show everything is normal," said a voice.

"Tests be damned! Something is wrong here," another voice replied.

"We can't disobey orders. Keep monitoring his vitals," the first voice continued.

"Wesker said he should have woken up by now. How much did you give him?"

"I know what Wesker said, and I gave him exactly as much as I was told to give him."

"Well, you'd better go tell Wesker he hasn't woken up yet."

"Why me?"

"You're the one who put him back under when he woke up the first time."

"Whatever." The door closed, and the footsteps soon died away again.

I should have known Wesker was somehow involved in this… Chris thought. A few minutes later, he heard footsteps approaching. The door to the laboratory slid open, and Chris heard a voice that unmistakably belonged to Wesker.

"I can't even trust you to drug an already half-unconscious man?" Wesker asked, his voice low and dangerous. One of the men Chris had heard talking earlier mumbled a reply. Wesker said nothing, but strode across the room to the gurney Chris was strapped to without a word. The brunette didn't say anything as Wesker looked down at him. The blonde's eyes narrowed, and he whirled around to face the two younger men.

"So," he began. "Not only can you not be trusted to drug a man; I can't even trust you to watch him? The two of you are hopelessly inept. Now, get out of my sight!" Wesker snarled, jabbing his finger in the direction of the door with his last sentence. The two scientists left the room. Wesker walked back to where Chris was and looked down at his captive again.

"Good morning, sunshine," he sneered. "I was afraid you'd died." Chris snorted.

"Like you'd give a shit," he replied.

"Oh, but I would," Wesker crooned, reaching down to brush a chunk of Chris' hair off of his forehead. The brunette flinched at the touch. Wesker chuckled. "Fear not, dear heart. I'm not going to hurt you… For now," he added with another chuckle. "I need you. You're going to play an integral part in my new genesis."

"You sure like to hear yourself talk, don't you?" Chris asked, rolling his eyes. "And not even in your dreams would I help you." The corners of Wesker's thin lips curled into a smirk, before he turned and walked across the room. Chris cringed, wondering what the older man had planned, and turned his head to look at Wesker, only to find the blonde standing in front of the table with the Petri dishes and beakers, with his back to his captive.

Wesker turned around, and Chris saw that he had a hypodermic needle in his hand. The syringe was full of a caustic-looking liquid. Wesker flicked the syringe with his finger and squeezed a small amount of the liquid out to rid the syringe of any air bubbles.

"Wouldn't want you to suffer an aneurysm," said Wesker.

"You're too kind," Chris replied sarcastically. Wesker didn't reply. He wiped the crook of Chris' left arm with a cotton ball that he assumed, from the smell, had been soaked in alcohol. Chris flinched at the sudden coolness on his skin. He didn't start putting up any real resistance until Wesker curled the fingers of his left hand around Chris' arm, holding the syringe in his other hand. Wesker tightened his grip on Chris' arm.

"Now, now, Christopher," Wesker taunted. "I'm giving you this miraculous gift whether you like it or not. If you struggle, you'll only make it harder on yourself." Chris stopped fighting, and let out an exasperated sigh.

"What the hell are you injecting me with?" he asked Wesker through gritted teeth.

"You'll know soon enough, dear heart," Wesker replied with a chuckle, before plunging the needle into Chris' arm and squeezing the liquid into his bloodstream. A surprised sound made its way out of Chris' mouth as the strange substance coursed through his veins. His eyes slid out of focus, and it felt as though his veins were full of molten metal instead of blood.

"What the fuck did you do to me?" he slurred, yanking hard on the straps around his arms. Wesker didn't answer his question.

"Excellent…" he said quietly, a smirk making its way across his lips. "Excellent…" Wesker's voice was the last thing Chris heard before he felt a sharp pain in his side, and slipped into unconsciousness once more.

- To be continued.