Chris was uncharacteristically nervous, fiddling anxiously as he sat across the table from his new captain. Each member of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha was being individually assessed, in order for their captain to get to know each of his team members. Wesker was currently sitting with one arm resting in front of him on the desk, the other propped up by his elbow, fingers holding the sheets of paper, turning them slowly one by one once he finished reading. He hadn't said a word to Chris since he had first come in the room and the two had shaken hands. Chris had taken a seat and shifted his weight nervously once Wesker dropped the folder on the table and began reading through the pages. The inside of Chris's lip was numb from chewing it, knowing full well what the pages of his file said about his past. Chris had always had an issue following orders and respecting his authority figures. But this one was different somehow. Chris had, since first being introduced, had an unwavering, definite notion that he would give this captain, Albert Wesker, the required respect and loyalty.
Time spent sitting in front of Wesker was the first time Chris had really gotten to look at him. Since that first day, Chris hadn't seen Wesker on the subway again. Wesker was someone that made Chris feel overly self-conscious and very anxious. He had perfect blonde hair that decent lighting made even more enviable. Not a strand was misplaced. He was well groomed, free of stubble, and smelling like the expensive cologne Chris had smelled on the subway platform. Chris stared at the folder in Wesker's hand. It says retired. It says it. He can't possibly know you got kicked out. He can't, he just can't.
Twenty three minutes had already gone by, and Chris's anxiety had only steadily increased. He was sitting stiffly in the chair having abandoned his usual slouch. Had it been even just one year prior, he'd have been reclined, with an arm hanging off the back of the chair the other resting on his knee. Now his back was flat against the rear of the chair, his feet flat on the floor and his hands clenched together and wedged in between his knees. Each time his Captain's brow furrowed or he frowned at the sheets or even just took a moment or two longer to read a page, Chris's body would tense, his jaw clenching...hands tightening. He would only relax once Wesker would turn to the next page, or his brow would un-furrow. Apart from those few brief movements, Wesker hardly showed any visible reaction to Chris's file.
To stop from worrying that he was about to get dismissed from the team, he studied his new captain more as he read over the file. His blue eyes traveled along the smooth, exposed skin of his captain's arm, studying the fine muscles, up to where the sleeves of the navy blue S.T.A.R.S. shirt were bunched, just at his elbow. Despite the looseness of the shirt, Chris could still see the outline of well-built biceps and broad shoulders. Though Wesker didn't look like he was all that much bigger than Chris, he actually questioned whether or not he would win in a physical fight with his captain. Wesker was taller than Chris too, by a good few inches, and Chris didn't doubt that Wesker could outrun him. The thought passed through Chris's mind as to how good a shot Wesker was, and he imagined the two of them competing in the shooting range. He wondered if he would beat him.
If he doesn't kick my ass off the team, maybe I'll find out.
Wesker lifted his hand off the desk and ran it absent-mindedly through his hair. Chris watched him do it, then place his arm back on the table as it had been. Chris' eyes stayed on Wesker's hair, studying how perfectly blonde it was, and how not a single strand was out of place. It hadn't needed the hand run through it, and Chris wondered if that was a habit his captain had. He frowned to himself, slightly, thinking self-consciously of his own brown hair, and how it stuck up messily. I hate buzzing my hair like all the other soldiers. I look like Jughead. He vaguely wondered if he should try slicking his own hair back.It'd probably look stupid if I did it. He thought miserably. Sitting before Wesker's obsessive good looks was really doing damage to Chris's own view of himself. Just as Chris had taken his eyes off of his captain's head and started studying his hands again, he heard the file being closed and pushed aside on the table. His heart did a strange flop, and his stomach felt as though it were twisted. He looked up anxiously, and saw Wesker looking across the table at him. The blonde sat back and folded his arms across his chest. Chris spoke first.
"I – I know it isn't the...the best um, record, I guess, for a soldier to have. But, I just want you to know that I'm trying hard, really hard, actually, to put that all behind me. I want a new start, and I know it seems hopeless. I mean, my issue. With authority, and following orders, but I actually really want to be on this team. And I uh, well. Uh, you just, seem, different. You know, than my other captains. I guess." He finished, lamely, feeling a burning in his cheeks. What's wrong with you, it's like your apologizing to your grade school teacher or something.
Wesker said nothing, and Chris couldn't tell what sort of look his captain had, since his eyes were hidden behind dark shades. A vague annoyance passed through him, realizing that he had a pet peeve of people wearing sunglasses indoors. When Chris finished his explanation, he could've sworn he saw the hints of a smirk tugging the corner of Wesker's mouth.
"I am different than your other captains, Redfield. They gave you chances and fair warning before asking you to leave. I won't." His voice had a hard edge to it. "I will not put up with disobedience or back talk. You will do as I say when I say it, or you will be without a job, and I will personally see to it that you never find another job in this field of work again. I certainly hope I am making myself clear."
Chris swallowed hard. It sounded to him as though Wesker was not immediately dismissing him. "Yes sir. I promise that I will try my best to do as you sa-"
"No, Redfield. You will not try. You just will. This is your first and only chance with me" Wesker said firmly. He hadn't raised his voice to Chris, nor had he said it rudely. His voice had a natural tone of superiority in it; it was a voice that demanded obedience. Chris swallowed again.
"Yes, sir." His hands where still clasped tightly in between his knees, and his heart was still doing strange flops in his chest. He wanted so desperately to have his captain's approval. He felt he had to prove he was a good soldier. That he wasn't just a rebellious kid.
Wesker sat a moment longer before standing up and picking up Chris' file. Chris jumped to his feet, checking his hip off the edge of the desk. He held in a grunt of pain, not wanting to show even the slightest sign of weakness, but he could feel a blush creep into his cheeks. Wesker couldn't help the smirk this time.
"I'll say this, Redfield; you have much potential. And I will see to it that I do the best I can to bring that potential out." He held out the file for Chris to take. "I am looking forward to having you on my team, Chris."
Chris couldn't help but grin, despite the throbbing pain in his hip. "I'll do my best not to let you down, sir." He said confidently, straightening himself to full height and trying his best to look impressive. "And thank you, sir. I'm looking forward to having you as my captain." He felt his ears burn pink as soon as he had said it. Wesker took his seat again, still smirking to himself, as Chris turned to rejoin his team, still smiling to himself. He had gotten his captain's approval, and that was good enough for him.
"Cheers to us, guys and Jill." Barry tipped his head towards Jill, raising his glass a bit higher to her. She laughed and tipped her glass at him, too. "We're all officially accepted by our straight-faced captain. For some of us," Barry's eyes flicked to Chris, and Chris smirked and shook his head. "this is a very welcome surprise. So, in honor of our newly found superiority within the crime stopping community, congratulations to us, S.T.A.R.S. Alpha!" The five of them held their glasses up and clinked them together. Jill, Joseph, Barry, Chris and Brad all sat around a small round table at the Raccoon Pub, two blocks from the RPD. Barry had instantly demanded that they all go out for drinks. Wesker had declined, saying he had some final paper work to fill out to make Alpha official. There was a S.T.A.R.S. dinner party the following Saturday, being held by Chief Irons. but Barry hadn't wanted to wait.
Between them all, a plate of nachos, a round of beers and two huge plates of chicken wings sat on the table. Chris hadn't believed that they were his new team; he hadn't believed Wesker hadn't kicked him out. He barely knew the man, but just in that brief time alone with him, Chris hadn't gotten the impression that he was very understanding.
"I, for one, am excited to see what sort of stuff we'll be doing." Jill said, taking a handful of nachos and stuffing them into her mouth. Chris smiled at her; for a girl, she sure could eat.
"Me too." Brad added, munching on a carrot stick. "I just hope Wesker, you know, assigns us right. Er, appropriately." Brad, Chris was coming to know, was the quiet one of the bunch. Rooted in science, Chris knew he would be much more comfortable sitting behind a computer than running with a gun.
"I'm sure our captain won't make you marksman, don't you worry." Jill said, patting him on the arm. Joseph laughed.
"Oh, I think I know who'll get that specific honor." Barry nodded to Chris. Jill and Brad turned to look at him too. Chris shook his head, taking a deep sip of beer.
"There is not one chance in hell." He said, truly believing it. "I'm lucky I'm here at all."
"C'mon, why are you being so hard on yourself?" Jill asked. Chris sighed. If I'm here with them for good, they at least deserve to know. They're your team.
"Well…I haven't been entirely honest." He said, glancing around the bar. It was a loud, rowdy place, filled with all sorts of Raccoon city locals. "I sort of, um…before this, I uh…"
"Oh, just spit it out, will ya?" Barry laughed. "Chris got kicked out of the Air Force before this." Chris almost choked on his mouthful of beer.
"Barry!" He coughed. Jill's eyes were wide and Brad's jaw dropped.
"How exactly do you get 'kicked out' of the Air Force?" Jill asked, incredulously. Chris made a face at Barry, annoyance filling him. Barry was a loud mouth when he'd been drinking.
"It's, it's really not…" Chris sighed. "I didn't want to take shit from them, so they didn't take shit from me. They gave me one last chance; I blew it, end of." He frowned, and stuffed some more nachos into his mouth. Frustration was swelling inside in towards Barry, and he was going to give him hell later.
"Chris, that's really-"
"Look, just drop it." Chris snapped at Jill. The chair screeched against the floor as Chris pushed away from the table and turned, stalking out of the grill. His heart was pounding in his chest, and it didn't slow until her reached the cool autumn breeze outside. Fuck. Already, he was regretting snapping at Jill. She was just curious, as anyone would be hearing about someone who got kicked out of the Air Force. Probably wondering how I held my shit against a tight ass like Wesker.
The thought of his captain made the fit of anger he'd just felt swell a bit more. The conversation between him and his newest superior had been sitting uncomfortably in his mind all day. Stupid son of a bitch thinks he can scare me into doing whatever he wants… Chris closed his eyes and breathed. No. No no no, he's just doing what any captain would do. He gave you a chance. He kept you here.Chris felt jittery, and he instinctively patted his pockets, pulling out his box of smokes and shaking one free. Once the cigarette was lit, he inhaled deeply and let his eyes closed.
No, he took his god damned time, he made you wait. He's going to be a fucking god damn motherfucking…
"Chris!" The hand on his arm, and voice next to him made him jump. His angry, rambling thoughts had been consuming him so much that he hadn't even noticed Jill chase after him. Her cheeks were pink from the cool air, and her brown hair was tossed by the wind. September was cool this year, and Chris was worried about how cold winter would be. Jill hadn't grabbed her jacket, so she hadn't anticipated running halfway up the street. She didn't have to run after you, but she did.
"Hey, I'm sorry, I-"
"No, I'm the one that's sorry." Jill interrupted. "I had no business prying like that. Barry obviously said something he wasn't supposed to say, and then I had to go and carry on with it. It was stupid on my part, so…I'm sorry." She was still out of breath from jogging after him, and Chris felt like a huge asshole. He sighed, taking a drag on the cigarette, before dropping it and stubbing it out with the toe of his boot.
"It's fine, I'm just not used to people knowing about it." A wave of guilt went over him. It's Barrys fault, not hers. "Just, just don't tell anyone else, okay?"
"Of course I won't." Jill folded her arms across her chest. She was wearing the plain blue S.T.A.R.S. t-shirt, and the cool breeze must have been getting to her. "You gonna come back?"
Chris thought for a moment, before shaking his head. "I'm tired." He said by way of excuse. "I think I'm going to head back to the station and collapse." Jill nodded, but Chris could have sworn she seemed…disappointed? She's only just met you, don't be an idiot. "I'll uh, I'll see you tomorrow. I guess."
"Yeah." Jill nodded, again. "See you." With a smile, she turned and jogged back to the bar entrance. Chris sighed.
That was the second conversation of the day that he knew he'd be thinking about for the entire weekend.
It was one in the morning when Chris finally collapsed in bed. He'd gotten back to the police station an hour and a half earlier, but had been so cold he decided to take a hot shower. The Alpha common room had been vacant, all its usual occupants back at the bar. Chris hadn't the faintest clue where Wesker was, nor did he particularly care. Probably planning our rounds of torture for the following week. He thought, glumly. Chris had the impending feeling that Wesker was going to pick on him. The light in both Wesker's office and bedroom were off when Chris had walked by, and he was the only one in the bathroom. He had seen any activity in the gym or pool area, and hadn't walked by him upstairs either. Probably just went home.
It was Friday night, and Chris was happy that they had the weekend off. Wesker had informed them that normally, they were free to go home for the weekend and return to work on Monday. They would be on-call at all times, but if they weren't on duty during the week or running patrols or investigating cases, the team was allowed to do as they pleased. Chris planned on taking a lot of power naps whenever his movements around the city took him anywhere near his apartment.
The room was dark, and the sheets were cool from the artificial air that circulated the dorm rooms. Chris found himself almost wishing he hadn't come back alone, although even if he hadn't, he still would have ended up lying in bed by himself in the cold. Chris felt his eyes going heavy, and was in the beginning phases of drifting off to sleep, until he heard the footsteps in the hallway.
At first, Chris imagined it was Brad and Joseph, half carrying, half dragging a drunk Barry to the double room, or maybe Jill…no. Not Jill. The steps were two heavy. And silent. Chris frowned into the darkness and opened his eyes. The room was clearer now, though only visible in shades of grey, marked in shadow. It also doesn't make sense because my room is at the end of the hall. Chris frowned to himself, propping his weight on a bent arm. Though his eyes had adjusted, he still had to squint to see the shadow of someone's feet standing just outside his doorway.
Who… The only one there that he knew of was Wesker. At least, that was the only person who made sense. But why in the hell would he stand outside my door while I'm sleeping.
Chris found himself holding his breath. Maybe he thinks I'm drunk and passed out in my own vomit, or… The footsteps moved down the fall, fading, and followed by the sound of the door at the end of the hallway closing. The brunette exhaled in the darkness, and collapsed back against the pillows.
Well, that was fucking weird.
