-No Way Out-

He awoke groggily and was surprised to find he didn't hurt. The surprise faded when he became attune to something stuck in his arm. Instead of being on the ground, he was lying on a bed. The thing in his arm was an IV line connected to a bag which he guessed to be fluids or possibly some sort of medicine. Even as a former BSAA soldier, he didn't know a lot about medical care. He could splash some disinfectant on a wound and throw a patch over it but that was pretty much the extent of his expertise. In their little makeshift team, it was the Weskers who had the advanced education and knew the biology and medical science of the human body.

Chris groaned when the pain in his chest and head steadily came back to prominence as his awareness sharpened. Without realizing his eyes closed, he forced them open. He swore he heard gunfire somewhere in the near distance. Wherever he'd ended up this time, it wasn't safe if there was shooting going on. He sat himself up and tried to climb off of the bed. He stumbled to the floor with a grunt, yanking the needle out of his arm.

Immense exhaustion swept over him. For a minute he had to sit on the floor and catch his breath, all from trying to stand up. He noticed his shirt was gone and his abdomen was wrapped tight with bandages. He also observed he was in a small room that looked like it could be a shed.

He dragged to his feet and across to an old rectangular chest opposite of the bed, where he'd spotted his

missing shirt. He put the shirt on despite the dried bloodstains on the back and the tears where the hunter's claws dug in. The exhaustion returned following such a small task and his chest physically ached with enormous pains. After the past incidents with Eva and death, he could actually think it and know he wasn't wrong because he felt this many times. If he didn't get help his body would cease functioning.

"I'm dying," he said out loud to make it real. "Infected with the R-Virus, I'm still dying. I guess Umbrella was wrong. There is something that can kill our kind. Course, coming across a machine capable of sending someone through time sporadically isn't exactly the easiest way to murder a person."

"Time travel?" a familiar voice said from behind. "It explains your older appearance, though it is not something I expected to ever see Umbrella accomplish. My assumption is the time travel aspect of this machine you speak of was, in all probability, a side effect or mistake of their original intentions."

Chris thought he would be more surprised Albert Wesker stumbled upon him than he was.

"Where am I? What year is it?" he asked the older man, turning to face him after he spoke.

Wesker was dressed completely in black, no surprises there. He wore black shoes, black slacks, a black turtleneck shirt, a black dress jacket over it, and black sunglasses. It was unexpected to see the man standing slightly behind him, leaning against a nearby wall. Jack Krauser had his arms crossed on his chest, watching silently with somewhat of a curious stare.

"Europe 2004," Wesker answered before inquiring, "What year are you from?"

Chris felt his body start to tremble with the strain of standing. He did his best to hide it.

"I belong in 2009. I came from Raccoon City, 1998. Hell of a thing, witnessing what happened there firsthand..."

He found himself staring at Krauser. Seeing him here in 2004 meant he met him before Colorado, didn't it? This made him wonder why the man hadn't said anything. He'd thought the gun-for-hire had only known him because of the information network. People like Krauser, basically mercenaries, got all sorts of information whenever they needed it. Now he was learning this mercenary met him in his past and that was probably the real reason he needed no introduction to the former agent. His time travel situation was more confusing than he'd previously thought.

"Why did you help me? You could have left me there to die."

"We both know I didn't really help you," Wesker informed, tone nonchalant. "As long as you continue to travel through time, your body will continue to break down. It's fighting the rapid movement of the particles of matter which make up your body, that occurs each time you move to a different place in time. The human body is fragile and capable of enduring a finite amount of strain until the inevitable occurs."

"Death," Chris finished, matching the other man's indifferent tone. "Been there, done that."

The blunt statement piqued interest.

"Is that so?"

He chose to ignore the question and sank to the floor, resting his back to the chest.

"Europe, huh? So you must be after a sample of Las Plagas."

"Whenever you and I cross paths, Chris, you are always full of fury toward me. You are quite calm. I find it hard to believe time would have absolved you of such hatred. Judging by the build in muscle tone, you've clearly been thinking of me, hm?"

Feeling strong enough to stand, he got on his feet. His body wasn't giving up on him just yet. He examined the man's face, searching for answers to questions he'd wondered about the former STARS captain for as long as he had known him. Like usual, nothing was revealed. A cool and collected face, betraying no emotion, was all that stared back.

Wesker arched an eyebrow as he kept staring without uttering a single word. At the moment he was thinking back to the past, to the mansion recently revisited courtesy of Obliterator. He seriously doubted Wesker would ever understand how much hurt he caused when he betrayed the STARS. Sure the man knew he effectively murdered members of STARS Bravo and Alpha teams by leading them to the area around the mansion and inside of the God-forsaken place as well. Done for the sake of gathering test data to find how well the bio-weapons did versus trained soldiers. He understood the physical components of everything perfectly. The psychological effects of his failure to meet his duty as a superior officer, the trust issues it still caused in Chris to this very day... That he wouldn't understand.

He knew he was right about the fury. It was true he was angered by his ability to stay alive to inflict his evil on the world. Although in his proper time he was working with Wesker against Umbrella's legacy, he suspected there were side projects and plans in progress at the same time he simply wasn't privy to.

Chris clenched his fists, jaw tightening while he looked the smug face over. He was furious with an intensity that could only come when a person you cared about deeply hurt you. Time had passed but the lives lost because of the betrayal couldn't be fixed. His friends were gone and they could never come back. However, he recognized Umbrella was to blame for Wesker, and there were still the things they did to so many innocents.

Umbrella was done for but now Darius Greene had a change of heart and was attempting to keep Umbrella alive through the use of Obliterator. Chris knew from experience that when a bio-weapon was relied upon, it usually ended in disaster and the loss of thousands of lives. What was going to happen if this was really it for him? Was he going to continue traveling through time to random people and events he was familiar with until his body gave out and he died? If so, he didn't think it would be long now. Maybe one or two more times before his heart would give out and his system would stop functioning. It wasn't the most pleasant thought but there was little point in thinking positive when so much was so wrong. No such thing as dying with dignity.

When both of Wesker's eyebrows rose and Krauser shifted off the wall and straightened up, he became acutely conscious he said the last part aloud. There was a moment of silence, caused by him this time.

"I agree, there is no graceful method of dying," Wesker finally said slowly. "I don't see you to be one to care how he goes out, so long as it's for the sake of another. Right, Chris?"

He let out an audible groan and rolled his eyes. "Figures I'd be stuck with you in my time of dying. I'm so tired of this. Nothing is ever as it should be."

Krauser shrugged and lowered his arms to his sides. "What people deserve to have rarely happens."

Wesker glanced back at his comrade. Chris wished he could see what look he was giving the other man. It was probably one the younger man received from him many times. He dropped his face into his hands and moved them up to rub his temples. The migraine was terrible and the feelings of helplessness he'd been having more and more since the mission in Africa heightened. He was growing restless too.

Eva and the others were in an Umbrella facility with Greene and who knew what other monsters. He wanted to be back with them. They might need his help and he wouldn't be there to give it unless he somehow found a way to go to his correct time.

"I need to get back," he blurted without thinking, but he didn't regret it because this was what he wanted more than anything. "Please. Is there anything you can think of that might take me back?"

They didn't answer right away, exchanging glances with one another. After a few moments, the muscular mercenary removed a handgun and two extra clips from his belt. He handed the items to him and Chris saw the gun was loaded full. He had forty-five rounds. Would he require so many? With his luck...

Krauser stepped aside and Wesker was looking at him.

"Think about what time is. What is the one thing that remains the same with time?"

Chris wasn't certain where his former boss was going with this. He thought about his life and the shit he'd been through.

"Nothing ever remains the same with time," he told Wesker, frowning briefly.

"Change," he realized. "Things are always changing with time."

"Correct. Therefore perhaps if you can find something to hold on to, something that is a constant in your life in the year you rightfully belong, then maybe it will be enough to take you back there."

"A constant?" Chris pondered to the other men. He closed his eyes to better concentrate.

His thoughts immediately went to Eva. He first met her a few months ago in Africa and eventually made a connection with her. It was a relationship difficult to understand because to him it felt like possible feelings of a romantic kind. That was a thing he would not tolerate because she was half his age and very young. There was no way he would ever pursue a romantic relationship with her on that basis alone, even if he was aware of her deep feelings for him. Well, and there was also the fact she was a Wesker.

"Anything come to mind?" Krauser asked. "Anything at all?"

"Yeah. She does."

Neither man asked who was "she". Wesker prodded for him to progress with the idea.

"Yes? What makes her your constant? What is it that makes her come to mind?"

"What she means in me and me in her. Strength. She is what's keeping me going. She's what saved me. That girl has just made me realize something important. I used to live my life accepting life couldn't be any different because when I thought that way, things hurt a lot less and were bearable. I thought I'd lost that feeling over the last couple of months and I thought I was going to lose myself completely. She's the one who kept me from going over the edge."

He smiled at the remembrance of the day he went out with Eva to buy her a new lamp after breaking the gifted item. She loved blue orchids. Orchids were a symbol of strength, just like Eva was the strength for Chris. The young girl had been telling him about the flowers she favored above all others at an inopportune time, when their apartment was under assault by Umbrella soldiers.

"Did you know orchids are said to have healing power? I wonder if they could heal your wounds, Chris... You know, the ones inside of you."

Before he could think further on the subject, he felt his stomach twisting into knots, the migraine so piercing sharp that he saw white spots.

"It's-happening-uhhnn..." Chris managed to utter and then doubled over and dropped to his knees.

"Remember what I said," Wesker said.

The world around him vanished. When he regained awareness of his surroundings he was lying on his back. He was staring up at a night sky. Sitting up, he noted blood running freely down his face from his nose and mouth. He was bleeding from his eyes and ears too and wiped at the disturbing issue.

A low growl brought him to his feet in an instant. He lifted the handgun and fired into the skull of a virus-infected dog poised to leap at him from a few feet away. Chris checked the location.

There was a door directly in front of him, past the dead dog, and an elevator on his left. Another door was farther away to his right, and beneath his feet was grass. He knew the place. Rockfort Island, toward the end of 1998. This was where his sister was taken by Umbrella, most likely to be left to die in a cell or used in a horrific experiment.

Actually, he had Wesker to partially thank for Claire's escape from the island. The man was the one behind an attack which set the T-Virus loose on the island, killing the guards and employees to provide opportunity for her escape. Of course, with the number of experiments unleashed as a result of the remote Umbrella facility being bombed, she almost died in her attempt to survive the monsters.

Chris had come to the island to save Claire. It was hell enough the first time and now here he was again.

A low rumbling sound came from beneath the earth. It had been ten years but that wasn't nearly long enough for him to forget what was lurking beneath the soil. The former agent turned vigilante for justice ran for the door closest to him. He had little interest in waiting around to get swallowed whole by an enormous mutated worm. He'd killed the creature once and found himself with no desire to attempt a second defeat. Chris slammed the door shut behind him and glanced across the immediate area, eyes alert and careful.

He stood on black and white checkered floor. There were payphones on his left, a wooden door straight ahead, two doors on his right, and an open doorway past those two doors. Chris planned to wait out this location he'd ended up in. The thing about plans? They rarely unfolded exactly as they should.

Chris managed to remain unbothered for five minutes. Then he heard scratching at the door on his right. A low, eerily sad moan reached his ears from beyond the door which looked as though it was to an office. The sound was disquieting and reflex had him checking the ammo in his gun. Fourteen rounds left in the clip loaded in his weapon and the safety was off.

Turns out, being prepared was an excellent thing to be at that moment. Two hunters came through the opened doorway at a dead run and didn't slow when they spotted him. As they drew nearer at a rapid pace, he noticed they were specifically sweepers. It meant he was that much luckier because this form of hunter had poisonous talons. Sarcasm was a mistake, slowing his movements by a second as he concentrated on clearing his mind of anything but the creatures bearing down on him. He shot one of them three times in the face and shifted the gun to the other, too late to see a third behind him that had gone unnoticed.

He did the only thing he could think to do when he was getting attacked on both sides by fast approaching monsters. He ducked. The humanoid reptilians smashed into one another and Chris used it to his advantage to run.

One found balance quicker than the other and pursued him through the door as he ran back into the grassy yard. He stopped running, spun around, and opened fire. He hit it with every shot but nothing vital, and the sweeper slashed a claw across his chest. Wincing, he fell to the ground. He kept his composure being the trained soldier that he was, and took out the creature with a couple more bullets. These creatures were so fast it was terrifying.

"Damn rabbit," he commented, looking at the corpse.

There were two bullets left in the clip. He discarded it in favor of a full clip and chambered a round. Chris doubted it would be long until another experiment of Umbrella's stumbled into him. He placed a hand on the deep cut to his chest and his palm revealed blood. Already he could feel the effects of the poison working its way through his bloodstream.

"Not good."

He wondered if he was eaten or torn into pieces by a monster, whether his body would regenerate anew like it usually did thanks to the virus. Not much he could do against the freaks of nature if he was a dead body awaiting revival. As he jogged over to the door on the other side of the yard, the better to be quick and unnoticed by the worm hiding beneath the soil, Chris remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

He was supposed to try returning to the time he belonged. He was supposed to find a way to return to Eva and the way to do it was with her. The blue orchids she loved so much. That was his way home and he knew it.

Was there something he needed to do? Something to be said out loud? What would be the trigger to send him home? Did it only take a mere thought? He was thinking centrally on Eva Jane Wesker and the flowers she adored but nothing was happening. Chris remained firmly in the location as he moved through the doorway. He found himself staring at a large army tank parked a few yards away from him. No! No tank. Don't get distracted. Flowers. Blue flowers! Blue orchids to be precise...

Chris felt the twist in his stomach, the migraine back full force, and his heart was pounding with such insistence it hurt to stand. He sank to his knees, poison overwhelming his body at the same time as the pains that occurred when he was about to travel through time. He was afraid because he didn't know. He didn't know if he was going to survive shifting through time periods again.

As he felt the tug of being pulled out of his current place in time, he thought about Eva and whether or not he was going to make it back. If he ended up in a different place in time, he knew he couldn't hold out much longer. The poison was rapidly weakening him and Chris thought it might be enough to allow another travel in time to kill him. If he didn't return where he belonged this time, he never would.