Chapter 28: Better Late than Never
Theme: Battle-Axe—Deftones
A nurse passed by the open doorway. The sound of a chart clacking against the linoleum was followed by her quiet cursing as she scraped it up. The usual noises of a busy hospital had resumed over the past week. The phone was practically ringing off the hook daily on the third floor where Albert was still recovering. The second floor was completely shut down during renovations. Umbrella was quick to clean up the hospital. After all, they owned it.
The light's rays cast right into a pool of steel blue, causing the iris to dial and the patient to wince away. "That still hurts?" Doctor Long asked, scratching a note of it on his clipboard of patient notes. "Well your pupils are both dialing normally, retaining the same size. That's a very good sign." A few more notes were scratched with his fountain pen and the brunette man met his patient's stare. "I think you're going to make a full recovery as long as you follow through with physical therapy."
Albert couldn't even begin to express the relief he felt. He looked better than two weeks before. His skin was holding color again. The bandaging previously wrapped around his crown was gone, leaving a shaven skull with an array of stitches serpentine toward the back of his head on the right side. He'd nearly broken the mirror when he first saw it. "You mentioned something about the frontal lobe before."
The neurologist nodded and replied while scratching a few more notes. "Yes, there was some swelling that thankfully went down on its own after we began to cool you off the first night. We didn't see any damage on any of the scans. The vast majority of where you hit was all along your right side when you were thrown. The fracture in your skull was linear thankfully, but there was some damage that needed cleaned up and stitched. The rest of your body is healing better than I expected when I first saw you in the ER." He looked thoughtfully at the blonde. "Are there any concerns, Mister Wesker?"
The blonde shook his head. "No, I was just clearing the air. I was surprised to see 'traumatic brain injury' on my chart when I took a look at it."
The doctor took a seat in the chair next to the bed. "Mister Wesker, you have been displaying every symptom common to a TBI. The coma, the dizziness, the headaches, the ringing you heard, and your sleep patterns changing. Also there was the blurry vision right after the injury was sustained and it lasted for the first few days…" He counted out each on his fingers. "Right now I'm ruling it as a moderate traumatic brain injury. You haven't been vomiting. You haven't had slurred speech or trouble with thinking. However, you were unconscious for a significant amount of time before waking. There may be things that we have to address later on down the road."
"Elaborate." Wesker cleared his throat, tired fingers reaching for the cup of water next to his bed.
Howard let out a sigh, hands turning their palms skyward as he spoke. "Despite my optimistic outlook, we have to accept the fact that later on down the road you may have complications. We just don't know enough about the human brain to understand all of the consequences of traumatic injuries to it. Even though it's 1997, medicine hasn't made huge strides towards treating injuries to the brain. Twenty years ago, we hardly had any plausible methods outside of relieving pressure on the organ via removing a piece of the skull. All we know how to do currently is address the symptoms and help patients manage them. We try to help the patient maintain their life, as they currently live it, as best we can with treatment. We just don't have a cure all yet. I don't think you'll have anything so life altering that you're stuck in a wheel chair or need living assistance…" He paused as their looks met. "There might be other issues. The headaches might begin to get worse or never stop. There might be behavioral and mood changes later on. Nightmares are another one that people in your situation have to deal with at times."
"There's something else that you're concerned about." Albert stated, eyes narrowing at the doctor.
The brunette ran both hands through his slightly shaggy hair. "A few years ago, I had a patient who suffered a TBI who had similar symptoms. When he came out of the coma, he was fine for a few months. A year later, he left his wife and children to pursue a woman he met off the streets. He was a banker. He quit his job, abandoned his lifestyle, and left the state. Injuries like this can change you as a person. Who you are right now…could be gone a year from now. Snuffed out forever and replaced by someone you wouldn't even recognize."
Wesker's lips cracked into a smirk. "Personalities gradually change over time. I do understand what you are saying though."
Capping his pen, the doctor swiped up his clipboard. "We'll just have to ensure that you have a support network. If you suddenly feel the need to make life altering decisions out of nowhere, we'll have to revisit treatment with medication and psychological counseling. However, I am optimistic about your recovery. The surgeries went well and you're eating. I believe you're going to make a full recovery."
Albert's lips tugged into a smirk. "Don't you just love having to tell your patients every possible scenario to avoid being sued?"
The worry charged in the air dissipated with that question. A laugh escaped the neurosurgeon, brows raised and a smile on his face. He nodded several times. "I've gotten very good at it over the years. Ten years ago, I'd have had a deer in the headlights look if you asked me more than four questions." Signing something off, he tapped the foot of the bed with his chart. "I shall see you next week for your appointment. Elena will bring you the paperwork for your discharge. She'll also have your schedule for physical therapy."
William broke the silence in the cabin of his car three hours later. He raised a brow at the blonde in the passenger seat rolling down the window to smoke. "We were thinking about having a very late Christmas dinner if you were up for it."
Albert nodded absently, eyes watching the world sweep past them. A storm had left piles of snow everywhere in the mid-January evening. "It will be nice to see Sherry."
"Yeah, she's missed you. I'm not sure how she's going to react to what Long did to your scalp." Birkin made a face briefly at the memory of first seeing the work done to his longtime friend. "It looks like he was drunk behind the wheel on that one."
Wesker winced, a heavy sigh given. Sunglasses slipped on, he sat back in the seat. "I thought I was going to vomit when I saw his work." Anger lathered his voice. "I think I've been less sloppy when stitching my slacks."
"You can always call in a favor to Denver if it leaves a visible scar after your hair grows back." The shorter man replied, clicking his turn signal to head left. The car came rolling to a stop at the red light. "Annette has a friend working in California as well that handles cosmetic surgeries. I'm sure he'd give a hefty discount to a cop injured in the line of duty."
Stare fixed to the road, the man sitting the passenger seat just shook his head slowly. "It's not about money, William." His eyes closed briefly behind the darkened lenses. "I need to make sure my contacts haven't dropped dead. Losing almost a month to recover has been a detriment to the norm of balancing work and play."
William's light brows lifted. "You have been out of the loop. You remember that reporter who went missing in the forest back in March? I think his name was Kurt and he was checking out the old hospital in the mountains."
Wesker's stare narrowed. "The old dummy hospital that was owned by the shell company Umbrella cooked up? Shit, he's dead." A small chuckle escaped the blonde's lips.
Birkin nodded in agreement. "They fished his body up this past October out of the Aimes River. The autopsy report was released last week, despite all attempts to keep it silent. Alyssa Ashcroft was all over that like she always seems to be."
Albert's eyes briefly watched a couple stroll on the walkway next to the road. They soon whisked by his view. "Oh, she's a gem. Fired from every newspaper yet somehow still finds enough freelance work to eat. What about the corpse they drug out?"
The slim scientist gripped the steering wheel tighter. "They found large quantities of steroids in his skin tissue. Alan Erdot is supposed to be leading a team to investigate what has happened. Nobody has heard a word from Director Lester since his wife died in that hospital. After Anderson's confession to you on security footage, Spencer thinks that the Dawn has gotten their hands on the T-Virus and has been letting it loose in the woods. He's becoming paranoid of everyone…" Pale and tired eyes pitched their view to the left again as he turned the car. "You missed the spectacle that was the last meeting. He shot three scientists in front of the board members."
'Is he honestly surprised? The old man was always a few bricks short of a full load.'
"I'm sure it was one for the books, Will." Albert's bored tone dismissed more chatter of Umbrella. As they pulled into the driveway of the Birkin residence, Albert lifted a single lightly colored brow. "My car is here."
"Yeah…she's been driving it." William cringed lightly. "Alternator went out on the bug."
With a roll of his eyes, Wesker climbed out without another word.
Sherry's big blue eyes welled in tears when she saw him first walk in behind her father. The kittens normally crowded around her little feet scattered in all directions, puffed balls of untrusting hisses and spats. Luminous yellow eyes peeked out from under the couches and chairs as the intruder to the home scooped up their Sherry and hugged her tight.
Albert did his best to calm her, speaking softly as she sobbed. "I'm fine. You don't need to cry, Sherry."
"You look like Frankenstein." She lifted her head from his shoulder, mopping away a few tears. Her little fingers gently ran over the side of his head, nose scrunching. "What happened to your hair?"
"Someone stole it. Can you believe that?" He grinned as she gave him a look reminiscent to her mother's own appearance when skeptical. A strong hand brushed over her blond hair. "I missed you, Sherry."
"I missed you too, Uncle Albert." Arms flung around him, Sherry buried her face against the collar of his button down shirt. "Why did you go away?"
William let out a sigh, patting the girl's back. "He was in the hospital. We told you this, Sherry." His voice was soft, almost tired as he wandered towards the kitchen.
Sherry looked over her shoulder, then back to Albert. Her usually quiet features scrunched to an annoyed expression. "No they didn't."
"I believe you." The tall Arian replied with a wink. "I was in the hospital. They had to patch me back up."
"Did you get in a fight?" Her cornflower hues followed her fingers as they toyed with the top button of his shirt.
Albert nodded slowly. "Yes, it was a big fight. Lots of people are safe now, though."
"I like that you help people, Uncle Albert." Sherry's quiet voice was probably the most wonderful thing he had heard in a month.
"Me too." His hand went for a chain that draped from her neck, tugging a locket out for view. Large and round, it seemed so oddly sized hanging from the girl's slender neck. "That is a nice necklace. Why are you hiding it?"
Sherry darted a glance toward the kitchen before looking back to Wesker. "It's Mommy's." She whispered, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. Once he let her drop back on her feet, she pressed a finger to her lips.
He reciprocated the motion, ruffling her platinum blonde strands before following William's path to the kitchen.
The kittens began to come out of hiding as Sherry sat on the floor, gazing at the portrait hidden within the lid of the locket.
Jill's nails tapping against the table nearly drove everyone present mad. She couldn't take her eyes off the clock in the corner; its ticking was almost driving her mad. The feeling of a warm palm over her hand finally quelled the sound. Her blue stare pitched to Albert. She still was getting used to his appearance without hair. 'He looks like he went through chemo. God, I should have been there with him.'
William broke the silence. "We owe you an explanation," he started, favoring the cup in his hands. "What you think you know, you know nothing about. Everyone present and everyone who has claimed to be your friend…has lied to you in some way or another. I just want you to know first and foremost that we are sorry we had to lie."
Annette said nothing.
Albert said nothing. His thumb continued brushing over the brunette woman's knuckles.
"We didn't want to," William's pale stare lifted to meet Jill's. "We thought there was no other way at the time to respect your father's wishes and go about our business." Realizing he was talking around the subject, he finally got to the point. "Spencer…had your father taken care of by Irons, who is in his back pocket along with half of the town. You know the kind of work your father has been in. He was doing the same things for Spencer, only on a much grander scale. Your father wanted out. He couldn't get out, as you've seen. Neither can we, at the moment."
Wesker's stare shifted to Jill as her fingers coiled around his tightly.
"Your father was a hero. I know I said otherwise previously, but he was trying so hard to make things right. I couldn't tell you otherwise..." Will's stare shifted to Annette, lost for words with fingers pressing against his temple.
From under a plume of cigarette smoke, Annette continued. "Your father found out about Umbrella's more illegal activities. They've been trading illegal arms with countries that are not the friendliest on the planet. They torture their own people and turn the weapons sold to them on those same people. In short, Umbrella is building an arms race that could devastate mankind, more so than a nuclear holocaust. He died trying to help us stop this."
Valentine could feel her eyes burning red. The tears that welled began to stream down her face.
"Umbrella is a massive company. They provide several million jobs around the world. Most of those jobs are legitimate, which proves to be a problem. They're a company that is too big to fall with deep pockets and a vendetta to come out on top." William uttered softly. "Raccoon City is just…a tiny fragment of what they are. We make the chemicals here that are sold to those countries. For years, we were told they were part of a Pentagon project for lowering casualties during wars. We were lied to, just like everyone else."
"I'm in." Jill uttered softly, her free hand wiping away at her tears.
The three exchanged a look, stunned by her sudden adherence.
Annette hesitated before continuing. "With it being such a massive company…the best move would be for a hostile take-over. The company has gone public, so the most logical way to stop all of this is to put William as chairman through stocks and his contributions to the company through bidding projects to the Pentagon and other organizations. Make everyone else look completely incompetent…"
Valentine nodded several times. "I know how that works. I'm not stupid. Take over and shut down the garbage. I'm in." She slid out of her seat, heading for the back door before she paused. "William?"
Birkin turned his head.
Her Alice blue hues peered over her shoulder to him. "When you're chairman, Irons is mine. Consider it my payment for helping all of you."
William nodded slowly under his shaggy blonde hair. "O-Of course…"
The door's slam even made Albert twitch.
"I trust everyone. I just don't trust the devil inside them." –Troy Kennedy Martin
