Chapter 10: Small Gestures

He couldn't remember when he passed out, but it must have happened, because Chris was back in the abyss. It was different now, more evolved, Chris noticed. More complete. The last time it had been miles and miles of nothing in every direction. The absence of light, ground, and air - thick and oppressive.

Now it was like standing on still water; still endlessly expansive, but he could tell what was up and what was down. Chris took one exhausted step forward and the water's surface rippled lightly out into the distance in response. Despite the fact that it was still so dark, he could see his reflection when he looked down upon the water-like surface he was standing on.

He was 40 again, he noted with surprise. His eyes were human once more - dull and burdened with heavy bags, but they were his eyes. His human eyes. As he raised one hand to them to make sure it wasn't a trick, he changed course and gently touched the weeping gash on his cheek that spread from the corner of his mouth all the way up to his earlobe. He hissed very lightly when his fingers finally made contact. Blood had crusted into his stubble and pulled at the wound's edge's irritatingly. Noticing one pain was like opening the floodgates to notice them all, and suddenly Chris found himself taking one staggering step forward, his body hunched over in pain as the damage in his side made itself known.

One look down confirmed that the situation was serious. His entire side was a huge mass of red that had crusted from his right abdominals down to the waist and pocket of his uniform. Trembling fingers pressed lightly into the punctures and torn flesh he found gouged out there, and more blood dribbled warmly over the questing digits as he did so. Realizing the wound was there made a large bubble of iron pool in his mouth. He gagged weakly.

"So stubborn," a familiar voice said from behind him, "What good does that quality really do you, Chris?"

He turned around, his eyes narrow as he regarded his 25-year-old self speaking with his face and Wesker's voice. The doppelganger was wearing a pair of dark army fatigues, the same thing Chris himself was wearing - clothes given to him by Wesker. The fatigues fit Chris just fine, but they looked like they belonged on his double. He frowned, his breath a wet rasp beneath his breath as he growled at the creature.

"None of your damn business," Chris answered.

His younger self seemed calmer than the mad creature that had tormented him in the abyss before. Chris winced as pain fluttered in his chest remembering their last meeting. The creature caught the expression and tilted his head, his face unimpressed, and said, "But it is my business. You are my Host."

"…You're the virus."

The virus gave him a considering gaze. "In a manner of speaking… The word you have used to define me with is suitable, although limited."

Chris' side let out a knee-trembling throb, but he did his best not to show it as he glared the creature down. The virus' face twitched ever so slightly as it regarded him.

"I blacked out."

"Hardly surprising. You should be dead."

"Then let me die."

The virus let out a little huff and raised its chin a bit. Blood oozed between Chris' fingers.

"What?" Chris asked through clenched teeth.

"That's a little ungrateful, don't you think?"

"I didn't ask for this," Chris said simply.

"Neither did I."

Chris let out a disgusted breath. "I really don't think it's the same."

"Regardless, I do not want to die," The virus said as it began to walk closer, "Therefore, you cannot die."

Chris took a step back, but the virus just kept walking closer.

"Stop."

And then the virus tore his hand from his wound and dug its own fingers in instead. Chris swallowed his scream before it could escape, and the sound died pathetically in his throat. The virus' fingers clenched, then it felt as though they were melting into the wound.

"When you wake, get up, take two lefts and you'll reach an intersection of tunnels. Take the right-most path and you'll find a ruined section in the wall halfway through the tunnel. Behind that wall are the stairs up to where the First is." The virus paused, his head tilted as if hearing something from far off, then continued. "When you get to the top of the stairs, just wait for a minute. You'll understand why when you do it."

Chris' hands scrabbled to push the virus away, but the creature wouldn't budge. His side felt like it was on fire.

"Why are you telling me this?" He barely managed to ask.

"A gesture of good faith," the virus said into his ear. "I'm not your enemy, Chris."

And then Chris was awake, waist deep in water and gore with his back pressed against a ruined tunnel wall. He inhaled deep gulps of air as the pain from his side receded and eventually became a light ache. With trembling hands, Chris pushed the tattered remains of his army fatigues out of the way to see the muscled wall of his stomach had healed. The skin had sewn shut and become a dark purple blossom of color on his abdominals, but even now he could see the color fading. Healing.

He thrust his head back against the tunnel wall and tried to collect his thoughts. Exhaustion washed over him in a wave, and before he even realized what he was doing, he had one hand in the water. He didn't have to force it to happen - the senses the virus had given him were always right there, just waiting under the surface of his skin. It took more energy to ignore them than it did to use them, really. At the moment, he was too tired to even feel ashamed of utilizing them as he took stock of his surroundings.

There were no more infected currently in the tunnels, other than the gored remains of the ones he - or the virus - had killed moments ago. And that's all he needed to know, he told himself as he forcefully slammed the valve of powers shut in his mind. Even after just using the skill for a second, turning it off felt like he was blindfolding himself. The implications made him feel uneasy.

Something wet, dead, and fleshy bobbed up against his hand as it listlessly floated in the water, reminding him he couldn't stay. The death would attract things, and even if there were no other creatures down there right now, it didn't mean Wesker wouldn't add more at any second. Although his muscles screamed with fatigue, he forced himself up.

"I thought perfection would feel a bit better than this," Chris groused as his stomach boiled with need within him. He was starving - but he cut that thought off before acknowledging the fact made his hunger worse. He focused his thoughts on putting one step in front of another, again and again. Before he could even realize that he was obeying the virus' instruction, he found himself outside the ruined wall it had spoken of. He didn't know how long it had taken him to get there - a fact that made his insides cold, the threat of a relapse back into a coma clenching at his guts - but he did pause long enough to make sure it was something he wanted to do.

Why should he trust the virus, he thought. And with a grimace, he realized that it was because the virus was his best bet. Alone, he had no clearer an idea of where he should go than the virus had given. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep functioning as Chris Redfield without nutrients, and he'd rather take these steps as himself than whatever he became whenever he entered one of his comas. There was nothing to say that this wasn't a trap and that more B.O.W.s didn't await him at the top of the stairs, but Chris just had to rely on the virus' word. A gesture of good faith.

After all, if the virus wanted Chris to fall back into a coma so it could steal the reigns, it could have just held it's tongue and waited for the man to pass out. It wouldn't have taken much longer, the BSAA agent conceded to himself as he slowly began the trek up the stairs. His soaked boots left muddy, red footprints in their wake as he climbed. He could feel a sense of anticipation just under his skin. As if the virus was right there, just itching to say you need to hurry up, but wouldn't. It took the steps a little slower then, just to spite the feeling. Little liberties.

As he climbed the stairs, a feeling began to reemerge at the back of his neck. It had never really left, Chris realized, but the closer he got to the top of the stairs, the stronger it grew. A familiar feeling, one he had felt a handful of times before. At the Arklay Mountains, at Rockford Island and the Spencer Estate, in Africa, on the roof just before he had been taken‒

His line of thinking came to an abrupt stop as he stilled all of his senses to listen to noises he could hear from above. He was close to the top of the stairs, the exit blocked by a trap door, and beyond it, he could hear Wesker talking.

"‒They're there now? Excellent, it's just as I predicted." A pause. "Hmm. No, no, we'll use the others, too. They'll serve as a good distraction at least." Another pause. "No, I think it's best we have you keep your distance while he is still so…young. In the meantime, send our friends in Africa our little gift to get the ball rolling. Once you're done, contact me on this number." And then the phone ended with a soft click. Not a Smartphone, then, Chris noted as he took the last few steps out of the stairwell and opened the trap doors.

The stairs led to an observation room, and while Chris had not seen any cameras while he had been below, the wall was littered with monitors displaying footage from all over the tunnels. Wesker was watching the whole time. He idly wondered how many times he might have passed the staircase, and if his missing them had ever frustrated the blond man. He hoped it had.

And in the middle of the room was Wesker, half of him facing the monitors and half of him facing Chris. He pocketed the small black flip phone, then turned to regard the haggard man.

"Certainly took your time, didn't you, Christopher? I see we've taken to eavesdropping now."

The BSAA agent gestured to the monitors behind the blond. "You knew I was coming, you could have dropped the call."

The fact was that Wesker didn't care if Chris heard his conversation and they both knew it. He was 100% sure that Chris would never be able to get into a situation where he could put that information into use, and even if he could get away, that he would even be able to do it. His confidence made the BSAA agent's blood boil, but it was true all the same. Chris had no way of using the information he just heard. It was a tiny victory, and the virus knew it. It had been a small gesture of good faith.

At least he wouldn't be wasting his question now.

"Very good. You're catching on."

"I made it here conscious, Wesker. Time to make good on your deal. I passed your test, now you answer one question."

"Very well. Ask away."

"Why me?"

Wesker raised his eyebrows. "I would have thought you'd go for 'how do I save Jill' or 'where is the self-destruct button for this compound'."

"Feel free to tell me any of those things, too."

"That's a rather selfish question you're asking," Wesker said as he took one step forward. "I'm so proud."

What question he would ask had been something Chris had been considering since the moment Wesker mentioned that he would give him a prize for completing the man's tests. Meet his expectations and get one question answered. So he chose his question carefully. The BSAA was in Africa, that much was evident by Wesker's phone call, as well as the fact that the blond had something planned for them. But Chris had trained with, and in a lot of cases actually trained the men and women of the BSAA. He trusted in their ability to handle whatever shit Wesker threw their way, so no, he wouldn't waste his question on their status. He believed in them. Even if he knew exactly what was about to befall them, the information would do him no good - he couldn't do anything with it from here. As for Jill, she was either being forced against her will to betray the BSAA or, as much as it pained Chris to think it, she was willingly working for Wesker. Either way, it would eventually come to the light. The chip had information vital to the BSAA, so he knew why Wesker took it. Asking where it was would be useless - Wesker would just move it and that's if Chris could even reach it anyway.

This question stood to gain the most information, so that was the one he picked.

"Answer the question," Chris pressed.

"First, we're going to go to the kitchen," Wesker said, and held up one hand to silence the agent when he opened his mouth to protest. "Unless you'd rather pass out halfway through the one time I will answer this question?"

At Chris' scowl, Wesker smiled.

"That's what I thought."

[a/n] I'm super sorry for being super late with this update. A huge thank you to orangepotato for poking me and checking in. :) Thank you all for your constant patience and support, you've all been so kind and inspiring. Thank you!