Sick

19th November 1980

Life with Wesker had reached a comfortable routine for William Birkin. He was one of the few people whose company was tolerated for anything besides work by the terrifying head researcher; for longer than ten seconds to boot. Unfortunately today appeared to be one of the days that stomped all over the comfortable routine, fed its tattered carcass into a wood chipper and then stomped over the remains for good measure.

"Good morning Alllllll… Jesus Christ! What's wrong with your face?"

A cough was the blond's initial response, "Lovely to see you too Will. I wouldn't be able to get through my day without you."

"I'm goddamn serious Al, you look horrendous."

The taller scientist grimaced and wiped the thin sheen of sweat that had formed on his brow. "I believe I have a mild cold. Unlike some, however, I am not willing to sacrifice work hours for a minor illness."

"A cold? Are you kidding? Looks like you have the flu. Like really, really bad!"

Before Wesker could compose his increasingly erratic thoughts, the room began spinning and Caitlin Donnelly entered the lab, customarily late. Though for once she was actually later than Birkin. "Sorry I'm late guys…" She halted in her tracks, "Whoa, are you alright Wesker? You look a tad… corpse-like."

The blond sneezed and sniffled rather pathetically before shaking himself and answering, "I'm not dead yet Miss Donnelly, there's work to be done." Despite his strong words and composed tone of voice, the sickly coughing and dangerous swaying that Wesker was undertaking meant that no confidence was instilled in his lab partners.

Caitlin looked closely at the waxy pallor of her boss' face, "Holy shit Wesker, you are sick as hell. How could you even come in today?"

"I took my car. I may have hit a dog but it could have been a cat or a small child, I can't remember."

Birkin and Caitlin shared a concerned look but it was the brunette who decided to continue the line of questioning, "I know you're a workaholic freak Al but we work in a biological testing facility, what about the risk of contamination?"

"I planned ahead, I'm just going to be doing paperwork today."

Birkin raised an eyebrow and went to continue to argue but released the hopelessness of such an attempt and just shook his head disbelievingly, "You're the kind of employee that every company wishes they could just clone. Please don't breathe on me today, I want to live."

"No… Noted." The back of Wesker's shaking hand removed more sweat. "I have a lot to get through today, so if you'll excuse me."

Birkin yelped as a pen thrown by Caitlin bounced off his forehead, "Hey! What was that for?"

"For not even trying to dissuade him, you pillock! He's bloody sweating buckets and looks like he's about to pass out."

"Al would carry on working if someone cut off all his limbs. The fact he's alive means he's working no matter what… unless Bowie has a concert in the parking lot."

"That would be good. I would enjoy that. The concert that is, not having all my limbs removed."

"Go home Wesker! Leave your car here; I'll drive you home. You're radiating heat, you look like a goddamn mannequin that's melted and you're swaying so much I could use you as a metronome."

Sadly for the eloquent response Wesker had planned, his brain and mouth decided to betray him and he slurred out his rebuttal, "I am fine." He closed his eyes briefly and promptly forgot he had started a sentence. When he reopened them, Caitlin was looking at him expectantly, "What?"

"God! You're a maniac, how did you even drive in today?"

"I drove in today?"

"Yes!"

"Oh…" He coughed heavily, creasing in half before slowly "How did I do that?"

"Eurgh! Get in my car before I make you."

"I bet you say that to all the guys."

"Shut up Birkin!"

Wesker blinked confusedly, "Why am I here?"

"Paperwork. Can you do mine, Al?"

"Okay."

"Stop it Birkin! Go home Wesker, you're in no state to work today. We're not studying influenza in this lab so come with me and I'll put you to bed."

"I bet you say that…"

"Shut up Birkin!"

Wesker slowly removed his glasses and shakily wiped the sweat from the bridge of his nose, giving his two comrades a glimpse of his bloodshot but oddly focussed eyes. "Miss Donnelly… Am I not the head researcher here?"

"Well yeah but you're hardly an asset like this."

"Exactly… If you were doing my paperwork, on the other hand…"

"Birkin. I swear to God."

Wesker sneezed once more and idly turned his shades in a weak grip, "What was I talking about?"

"Nothing coherent. Listen to Caitlin."

Wesker turned to the redheaded scientist, ""I have a lot to get through today, so if you'll excuse me." He turned and shambled away, oblivious to the exasperated look of the Irish female.

"How is he still alive?"

"Because he's not human. He's got one of the worst cases of influenza I've ever seen but he still managed to drive into work and have a looping, nonsensical conversation with us. If he was anyone else, I'd tell him to go home but he's a little bit indestructible."

The pair turned to look at Wesker, seated behind his desk and staring confusedly at a lab report. Birkin decided to assist his friend, "Wesker it's upside down!"

"I knew that, Will." He slowly turned the page around.

"No, that's the opposite side. You're holding it upside down. Flip the whole thing the other way round. Like…" He turned to Caitlin, "On second thoughts, I don't want him to do my paperwork."

Just as Caitlin went to reply she was cut off by a rambling Wesker, "God who printed this report upside down".

"Huh, I've always wondered what Al would be like if he was stupid. It's actually kind of funny."

"You're the worst friend ever Birkin."

"Miss Donnelly, may I borrow a pen? I'm trying to sign this report but mine isn't working."

"You're holding it upside down Wesker."

"Yeah, it's a real epidemic today Al."

"Oh. Thank you Miss Donnelly, problem solved."

"See? Why were you worrying Caitlin? He's really productive today, see how quickly he signed that one piece of paper?"

"This isn't a joke Birkin, he's seriously bloody ill!"

"And now he's asleep."

"He's…" She turned towards the ill head researcher who was slumped over his desk, "Course he is. I'm going to drag him out of here. He's completely useless today and needs to go home. Give me a hand."

"No chance. I've been punched in the face by him before, not taking that risk again."

Caitlin paused in mid-mission, "Really? When did that happen?"

"Long story, I implied he performed oral sex on Spencer then I spat on his face."

"…"

"You okay Caitlin? You look a little… stunned."

She shook herself forcefully, "No time. Keep that story on ice, I'll hear it when I come back." She strode over to where Wesker was sat, "Wake up tall, dark and corpse-y, time to go home."

"Whazzut? Where am I?"

"At work. Spencer told me to take you home, said you'd endangered the entire project by showing up in such below-peak condition."

Wesker blinked dumbly, "Really?"

"Yep. So come with me, get in my car." She threw a glare at Birkin, who raised his hands in faux innocence as he sauntered over to the coffee machine, "And I'll take you home."

The blond nodded once and unsteadily rose to his feet, staggering out alongside Caitlin who tried nobly to support a man who was nearly a foot taller than her.

Once the two had exited the lab and gone out of sight but not out of hearing range, Birkin heard a retching sound, "Oh for fuck's sake Wesker! Could you not have aimed it away from me? Or at least given me a goddamn warning?!"

Birkin sipped his coffee and examined his nails. Today was a good day.