Author's Note: Do I even have an excuse anymore? My course load has slowed down a lot as I'm getting ready to graduate and this last semester is going to be pretty easy. So, here is a chapter.

Chapter 25

We're Wide Awake Now

Rustling and beeping filled Chris' ears, causing him to stir. His eyes remained close, however, as he fought a strong sluggish feeling that washed over him. Despite being awake, he was far from alert. He could hear distant speaking but simply could not bring himself to care about the conversation—though, it sounded important. Once he heard the voice of Albert Wesker, however, he struggled to open his eyes.

Chris' vision was blurry but he could gather from the bright lights and the white noise of machines, he was in some type of hospital. He groaned and attempted to raise his arms to rub his eyes but an IV attached to both arms made the action difficult.

"He's awake," he heard before rustling beside him.

The voice was feminine and he could almost place it but his mind was jumbled.

He blinked several times at the figures above him before they became clear—a much older Jill Valentine and Albert Wesker.

Wesker was busying himself by checking oxygen levels and heartrate while Jill reached down to grasp Chris' hand.

"Hey there," she said with a smile, "You doing okay?"

Chris gave her a reassuring smile as a response before exchanging glances with Wesker whose eyes didn't seem to want to fully meet Chris'.

Breaking the semi-eye contact, Chris looked around the room and realized he was in a bedroom. The room had been transformed into a makeshift hospital room, complete with a hospital bed, vital machines, and IV drips. The room had a wooden floor and white walls with no windows and one exit that Chris could see led to a dark hallway.

Chris remained silent for several minutes as Wesker typed results into a laptop and Jill watched.

"What do you remember?" Jill asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"I remember all of it," Chris said quietly, gaze catching glimpses of Wesker as he typed at his keyboard.

"What about what happened before you were put under?" Jill asked cautiously.

Chris struggled for a moment before shaking his head and silence overcame them once again.

Wesker's typing filled the air as Chris sat up in his bed. He was increasingly uncomfortable in the hospital gown that was provided for him and eyed his clothing hanging in the closet desperately. Jill was wearing her work clothes minus her hat and Wesker adorned a thin black sweatshirt and jeans.

"So, can someone explain why Wesker is alive?" Chris asked, breaking the silence.

Jill and Wesker exchanged a glance before a response came. Jill took a seat on the edge of the hospital bed and set her hands in her lap, gaze falling on Chris.

"The BSAA has been working with Wesker. I guess they found him near death in the volcano we left him in and subdued the virus in him enough to keep him, well, tame. The same virus that gave him enhanced abilities also created the villain we fought. I wasn't happy about it at the time, either, but he does mercenary work for the BSAA in exchange for the antivirus that keeps him subdued and, from what I know, he's pretty good," Jill explained.

"He turned on us in Raccoon City, Jill. You can't blame the virus for that," Chris countered.

"However, you can blame Umbrella. Imagine yourself in my position, Christopher; Kidnapped as a child, molded for their agenda, and kept under constant surveillance. I had little choice," Wesker explained, closing the laptop.

"There's documentation of his claims otherwise he would be dead," Jill sighed, "Besides, you trusted him enough to ask him to steal this drug, or whatever. He came to me after the fact and explained the situation. How could you keep this from me?"

"I wish I knew," Chris muttered.

"Wesker has done his share of evil, sure, but he put everything on the line to do this for you," Jill shrugged.

"How long have I known about Wesker?" Chris asked, "How long am I missing?"

"Without further research, I would gather between two and three months," Wesker answered.

Chris exhaled heavily and rubbed his face.

"My past self was a fucking idiot," Chris muttered through his fingers.

"You were desperate, Chris. You couldn't forgive yourself and hoped you could do something to save Piers but I guess your vision didn't send you to Piers," Jill said warmly, flashing a soft smile.

"Unfortunately, I had no control over your subconscious on that level. I was simply there to guide you once you arrived," Wesker stated.

"Am I using vacation time for this shit?" Chris asked with a dry laugh.

"Sick time, actually," Jill chuckled.

"Have you heard from Claire?" Chris asked Jill.

"She's been busy with work but she didn't know about any of this. You didn't want to worry her," Jill assured.

"At least my past self wasn't a total moron," Chris grumbled.

Jill gave a sympathetic smile and shrugged before speaking, "I was just gonna run and get some dinner. Want me to grab you something?"

"Christopher should avoid large amounts of solid food," Wesker interjected.

"Get me a burger," Chris said.

"Christopher—" Wesker warned carefully, exchanging a worried glance with Jill.

"I'll get you a salad," Jill said matter-of-factly before standing from the bed.

"I feel fine," Chris insisted but Jill simply flashed a sympathetic smile before exiting the room.

"Perhaps we should talk," Wesker suggested, setting the laptop he had previously been holding onto the bedside table.

"Don't bother," Chris muttered, "I have nothing to say."

"Well, I do," the blond retaliated, seating himself in Jill's empty spot.

"I'm not interested, Wesker. Anything that happened in here—" he pointed to his temple, "—is going to stay there. I was confused, I was lost, and I was alone. That's all any of it was and I don't—"

"—We should talk regarding your mental status going forward with the drugs in your system," Wesker said, cutting the brunet off.

"O-Oh," Chris avoided Wesker's smirking gaze, "Sure."

"I highly suggest you contact a doctor shortly to continue monitoring your physical health. I also suggest you utilize the BSAA's mental health staff to avoid further similar predicaments such as this," Wesker said solemnly.

"That's rich coming from you," Chris grumbled, rolling his eyes and eyeing his clothes yet again.

"Unfortunately, it is unclear whether your memory will fully recover the previous few months," Wesker continued, ignoring the sarcastic brunet.

"I'll live," Chris snapped, "Now can I please get dressed? I need a shower and a drink."

"You have learned nothing," Wesker scoffed in mild disbelief before shaking his head softly and standing.

Chris could clearly hear the disappointment in the blonde's tone but chose to ignore it, nevertheless.

The two remained silent as Wesker grabbed his laptop and left the room and for the first time since he became conscious, Chris was left alone.

Chris stared at the closed door for longer than he intended. He felt no different 'awake' than he did while dreaming—or whatever. Honestly, Chris had a hard time wrapping his mind around the idea that the past month and a half of his life didn't actually happen. The hardest to handle, however, was the knowledge that he was right back to where he started—

Everyone was dead.

Piers Nivans included.

Cradling his head in his palms, he took a shaky breath. Chris lost all motivation to change clothes let alone stand up. The exhaustion and hopelessness hit him in waves as his mind wandered endlessly. Over the years, the death count surrounding Chris only increased and he never understood—why him? Why did Chris survive but not the people who truly deserved it.

Piers was a kid compared to Chris. Piers had a future not only in the BSAA but he had a whole life ahead of him and could have gone so far.

Chris didn't realize he was crying until his fingers were dripping with fallen tears.

The brunet wished so much it had been he who had been sacrificed instead of Piers. This was a realization he had struggled to admit but he simply couldn't shake the feeling as he was stuck. Piers died for Chris, which meant that Chris couldn't stop fighting bioterrorism despite wanting desperately to retire from the BSAA. Chris dreamed of killing himself daily and he attempted to drink himself into a coma regularly.

His depression and post-traumatic stress disorder were simple diagnoses but giving the disorders names didn't make the feelings stop. The medications took too long to work and Chris was instructed not to mix alcohol with them which he either couldn't or wouldn't follow.

Years and years of fighting, missions, and loss had caught up with him tenfold. Questions circulated his mind—the words that haunted him for years:

'Was the fighting really worth it anymore?'

The answer eluded him until Piers' death. Chris was living in a war of bioterrorism every day and each mission ended the same way. The loss he experienced during his constant fighting of the bioterror that swept the world simply was incomparable to any

Chris was a puppet, much like Piers, and he was sick of it.

The crave for a drink washed over him like a soft breeze and suddenly he was rubbing the tears from his face. Chris' want for alcohol outweighed his want to better himself tenfold and he was soon dressed and on his way out through the door when Wesker stepped in his way.

"Where are you off to?" Wesker asked, towering over Chris in an almost threatening way.

Chris realized, as he met Wesker's eyes, that leaving this place was not going to be easy. He could distantly hear bustling and assumed he was in still in the BSAA headquarters which meant his flat was just a block away.

"I'm going home," Chris answered quickly, standing as upright as possible in an attempt to meet Wesker's height.

Chris was several inches shorter than the blond which made his presence significantly less threatening.

"Perhaps Miss Valentine could accompany you once she returns," Wesker suggested, stopping Chris from moving through the doorway by simply shifting to the side slightly.

"She's done enough," Chris shot back.

"Perhaps I could accompany you—"

"I'm not a fucking child," Chris growled.

"And yet you act it," Wesker snapped.

Chris swung first but Wesker dodged with extreme ease. The swinging fist collided with the blonde's palm and it was grasped and held tightly. So tightly that Chris winced and yanked back but still Wesker held tight.

"Let go!" Chris shouted.

"Stop," Wesker said, calm yet stern.

"Let go of me, Wesker," Chris paused before continuing, "Let me go, let my life go, and just fuck off already," he growled before pulling his hand free.

"Your incessant need to be a walking bag of self-destructive behavior despite the devoted family and friends surrounding you continues to dumbfound me, Christopher. These people beg for the opportunity to help you and you turn your back on them over and over. You came to me—"

"Did I, though?" Chris asked, cutting the blond off.

Wessker crossed his arms and chuckled darkly.

"You did. You asked for my assistance and it was not due to your desperate nature. You trusted me once, Christopher," Wesker insisted, remaining very much in the way of Chris in the doorway.

"Bullshit," Chris spat back, visibly antsy and uneasy.

"You don't believe me?" Wesker asked with dry scoff.

"I'm having a mild case of short term memory loss- very, very short term. You expect me to believe in that small amount of time, I actually trusted you? Everyone at the BSAA trusted you?" Chris scoffed this time and turned his back to Wesker to go sit down in the room that he was clearly not leaving anytime soon.

"I have been working for the BSAA for quite some time, you realize. My contract was kept hidden and I was kept under close surveillance for several years before—" the blond began.

"Before what, Wesker? Before the BSAA decided to let you loose?" Chris shook his head in disbelief, eyeing Wesker harshly, "The BSAA has made some stupid decisions but this sure as hell tops it."

"Your ignorance regarding the virus dwelling within me allows you to believe that; however, you have a right to your feelings," the blond countered calmly.

"Fuck feelings. This is beyond feelings, Wesker. Your actions don't just get forgotten because you said 'sorry' and did a few jobs. I don't care if Umbrella had you by your damn balls—You had a choice, Wesker! And you chose you. You are a selfish monster—"

Jill had appeared behind Wesker, phone raised with the screen pointing at Chris. Chris squinted past Wesker's shoulder and his stomach dropped at the sight.

It was a picture taken by Jill with Chris and Wesker in the background, holding up glasses of beer with a smile on each face. Chris' gaze bounced between the three of their frozen faces—all happy. He almost wished he remembered the picture. He wanted to remember a time, no matter how short, where he was happy and enjoying himself.

"He's been around us for a while, Chris," Jill sighed, "You've already said all of this to him. I was there, I was with you. He has no rank in the BSAA and his abilities aren't nearly as powerful. Wesker isn't a threat anymore, Chris."

"No, but you are," Wesker stated, leaning against the doorframe, "You are a threat to yourself, Christopher."

Chris stood silent for a moment. Jill slowly lowered her phone before pocketing it and meeting Chris' gaze.

"That's dramatic," Jill muttered, eyeing the blond.

"Dramatic and true," Wesker said, gaze staying on Chris.

Chris returned to the bed and sat down with a heavy sigh—a defeated sigh. What more was there to say, really? Chris was simply wrong and there was nothing for him to do about it. He couldn't control what he remembered or what he felt or who he felt what towards. He couldn't control his feelings of betrayal from Jill or the horror he felt seeing the two team up against him.

"Can I just…." Chris said after a moment of silence, "…. Talk to Wesker in private?"

"That certainly went well the last time," Wesker muttered towards Jill who exhaled with a smile.

"No fighting, please. I'll take this—" she held up the bag, "—and meet you at your place."

"Thanks, Jill," Chris said before she left the doorway.

Wesker entered the room and pulled a chair from the corner to sit across from Chris. The blond crossed his legs and clasped his fingers, his grey eyes looking over Chris in a way that made the brunet uncomfortable.

"You don't think my memory will come back?" Chris asked.

"This was highly experimental, Christopher. In theory, your memory should return as the drug leaves your body," Wesker answered, "I simply am not sure."

"So a few days?" Chris asked.

"At most," Wesker nodded, "However, I implore you to visit a physician."

"Yeah," Chris muttered.

In reality, Chris had lived in Europe for several years and had yet to establish himself with any doctors besides what the BSAA offered (which were overqualified nurses, at best, but it got the job done). Besides, what could a doctor do for him with an experimental drug?

"Right," Wesker sighed.

"I'll try," Chris said quietly.

"If you wish, I can check in on you later tonight," Wesker offered.

"If you want, I guess. I don't really know this—" Chris motioned between them, "—dynamic."

"If I have time, I will stop by. I doubt you will be sleeping when I finish my shift at the office," Wesker said before standing and shoving the chair aside behind him.

"The office?" Chris asked, "—Oh right. The BSAA office. Damn that is not an easy concept."

"You will grow accustom to it as you did before," Wesker assured, "Now, I'm late and when my whereabouts are unknown, the BSAA grow apprehensive."

"I wonder why," Chris muttered.

"Until tonight," Wesker responded smoothly, leaving the room and, subsequently, Chris.

Chris continued to sit on the hospital bed in the makeshift hospital room despite knowing Jill was waiting for him at his flat. There was so much to uncover and it was growing more and more frustrating by the minute. With his forehead against his palms he strained to remember anything after that night—The night Jill dragged his uselessly drunk ass home. He thought harder and harder to recall earlier that evening.

Chris and Jill had gone to their usual after shift hangout, a bar between Chris' and Jill's house. They, of course, did not go just for the hole in the wall atmosphere. More often than not, BSAA agents would wander through the darkened front door after returning from difficult missions. Just as often, agents would take the time to knock back a drink before even returning to their homes.

Chris and Jill hadn't been out on a mission since Piers' death—Well, Jill had. Chris, however, found himself returning to the same spot he and Piers frequented following their more challenging missions. In fact, Chris had been on strict instructions to see a psychologist and he would be placed on leave until then.

Nevertheless, Chris and Jill had made their way into that bar that night but the more Chris thought, the more he realized there was something missing.

After rubbing his eyes so hard he saw stars, Chris decided he had put off this conversation long enough and stood up. The 'hospital' room had actually been an extra room inside a currently empty BSAA flat. The BSAA often housed newly transferred members in flats like this until they situated themselves out. The empty flats flooded the surrounding streets of the BSAA headquarters for easy access.

Chris stumbled into the fresh air and blinked at the cloudy sky as he left the building.

Colors of the real world seemed incomparably vivid compared to his dreamlike state. Much like his memories, colors were dull and hard to focus on while he was unconscious but now, he could only stare at the grey clouds. He also felt hunger in the way he knew he should have been feeling. The dull pang in his stomach caused a nauseous wave over him which forced him to continue walking.

He lived closest to headquarters, luckily, and arrived at his flat after a slow ten minute walk. During this time, Chris struggled to avoid getting swept up in his thoughts. He could remember feeling determination as he planned everything but any more details were still gone. He simply remembered the feeling of pride that overtook him as he explained the idea to Jill—The first time he had truly argued for something since Piers.

"Jill?" Chris called out after opening his unlocked door.

"In here!" Jill responded, coaxing Chris to enter the flat further and follow the voice to the dining area. Jill had set up a plate of food for the two of them and had just been sitting down to begin on hers as Chris entered.

Chris stood awkwardly across from Jill for a moment too long.

"Well, sit down!" Jill insisted, kicking the opposite chair out in front of Chris.

He obeyed.

His dining room had never looked so unnatural to him. Maybe it was because the sheer size of it was massive compared to his Raccoon City apartment or maybe it was because he hadn't seen the room in what felt like months.

The long table in the center of the room seemed unnecessary now that Chris thought about it. The obnoxiously detailed burgundy carpet the table sat on covered the wooden floors to prevent scratches (according to Jill who mostly designed the place). The walls were empty besides several decorative sconces and mirrors. Jill had claimed they were supposed to make a room feel bigger but now he felt the room was too big—and too empty.

"You look lost," Jill said softly.

"I am lost," Chris said with a scoff. The two were silent for a moment and Chris stared into his dish as his lips blurted out, "I've done things, Jill."

"We all have," Jill said too quickly, rushing to start one of her Jill Valentine pep talks she was honestly horrible at (but her attempt always made up for it).

"No, Jill. I've done things I can't explain. I've done things I can't remember," Chris muttered, blinking away tears.

"It'll be okay, Chris. Once that drug is out of your system—"

"I've done all of these things but all I can think about is how much I want to go back," Chris said finally, looking at her.

"Go back where?" Jill asked suddenly, sitting forward.

"Raccoon City. I wasn't finished, Jill. I want to go back under."