Author's Note: Quarantine life is rough. Have a new chapter.

Chapter 26

I Might Be Great Tomorrow But Hopeless Yesterday

Several hours later, Jill was gone following a storm out upon Wesker's arrival leaving the blond to deal with Chris. The group had previously moved from Chris' dining room to the living room where Wesker currently stood across from a sitting Chris. The living room was minimalistic lacking even a television—decorated by Jill, of course. The white couch Chris was sitting on matched the single white chairs on either side of the room where Jill had been before leaving in anger.

Chris was staring at her empty seat when Wesker pulled him out of his daze by muttering something as he sat down in that very chair.

Chris blinked up at him, "What?"

"I asked why you think this is a good idea. Why do you seem to be on this war path to destroy yourself?" Wesker asked, arms folded and voice scolding.

"Look, I don't owe you an explanation," Chris countered, standing.

Previously that evening, Jill had brought up Piers' death and Chris cut her off quickly after Wesker had questioned who Piers was exactly. Learning just how little he knew about Piers meant Chris and Wesker weren't as close as Chris had been thinking they were during his missing memory and the brunet planned to keep it this way.

"No, you do not, but do you see how you are hurting Miss Valentine?" Wesker had opened his mouth to continue but Chris laughed dryly and cut him off.

"So this is what all this is about. Wesker, if you want to fuck Jill, go for it. I'm not interested in her. You don't need to keep pretending to care—"

Wesker's deep, loud laughing cut Chris off before the brunet could go further. Chris' eyes narrowed at the blond in annoyance and Wesker returned the look with a smirk.

"I have no interest in Miss Valentine. I was guiding you, Christopher," Wesker stated, tapping his temple, "I was there for all of it. You told me each thing that happened and I encouraged it just as much as you."

Chris' already pink cheeks deepened but Chris didn't look away—He was determined.

"Then what is this about, Wesker?" He asked, carefully ignoring Wesker's knowledge of their sorta-sex history. "Why did you even bring me back?"

It had taken several hours for the question to finally surface. Upon waking, Chris was bombarded by so many questions and new feelings that he hadn't gotten the chance to really even consider why he was brought back. He was the one who had originally wanted to be put under, and yet, he hadn't actually gotten anywhere in his journey.

"I could no longer steal the serum from the lab. I cut it rather close on multiple occasions. I was also on a time restraint and almost missed your dose times—which, I believe you would return for a short period as you could recall these times. Christopher, this is far deeper of an issue than a week of treatment can possibly help. Not to mention, I hadn't factored in your alcohol use combating with the drugs in your system which I believe led to your memory loss," Wesker explained.

This quieted Chris' anger, if only slightly. His eyes were softer now and he returned to sitting on his couch. Wesker followed, sitting in one of the adjacent chairs.

"Do you think—" Chris began, eyes on his hands, "—If we did it the right way, in a lab with no alcohol, it would help?"

"It's experimental but we would have significantly more control, I believe. However, I would advise against this until your memory loss has subsided," Wesker responded causing Chris to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry about what happened—" Chris muttered, tapping his temple and exchanging glances with the blond. This seemed to be their way of communicating Chris' time while unconscious and the two accepted it.

"The sex was mutual, Christopher. I guided you but I let you find your own way," Wesker answered, "I could have stopped it at any time."

Chris froze, blinking down at the white carpet covering the wooden floor of the living room. He twisted his toes into the fuzz there and exhaled before looking up.

"I didn't expect that," He answered.

"Neither did I," Wesker responded smoothly with another smirk, "However, you were alone and subconsciously, you knew I was guiding you. You found comfort in me."

A silence fell between them—one that Chris wasn't particularly interested in filling with more talk of their sexcapades from his mind palace. Chris sighed in relief when Wesker broke the silence—despite the topic.

"I ask again," Wesker said, "why do you insist on this?"

Chris sighed in mild frustration and rubbed his eyes with his palms.

"I just wanted to see if maybe I changed something, I could save someone but I didn't even get sent to the right damn time—"

Wesker chuckled, stopping the brunet mid-sentence.

"You said exactly this when you approached me—Your reasoning behind all of this was to deduce whether a change in action would result in a different effect," Wesker stated, legs crossing over one another as his hands met on his lap.

Chris was silent for a long moment. He gave a steady nod and his gaze fell.

"I've been experiencing… issues… for some time," Chris said, glancing up at the blond, "I went MIA for a while after Africa and struggled with some after effects of the things I've… experienced. I lost a lot of good soldiers, friends, coworkers—A part of me thinks I hit my limit when Piers died and I wanted to try and pretend that's where my issues started but we all know things started in Raccoon City… With you."

"Prior to injecting you, I told you that nothing that happens while under that drug matters and utilizing it as such is another way to torture yourself because no matters the outcome, you will wake to the same reality," Wesker stated matter-of-factly.

"And what did I say?" Chris asked.

"You told me to go fuck myself," Wesker smirked and Chris laughed with a nod.

"Sounds like me when I'm drunk," Chris sighed, "How else do I deal with this… issue?"

"Trauma will not ever simply vanish, I'm sorry. You learn to live with it, perhaps, but you dictate how you let it affect you. Psychology is a strong science that I encourage you to explore during your healing. I, however, advise against continued experimental drug usage."

"It sounds like you talk from experience," Chris said with a sigh.

Wesker hummed in response and Chris visibly noticed his shoulders tighten.

Chris would lie if he didn't feel at least slightly better from the talk but the urges were there—the urges for alcohol, the urges for this drug, and the urges for Wesker. Chris didn't want to fall back into that pattern. He never did. However, his wants were always dictated by the flashbacks and the guilt and the overall fuckery that was his life until this point. Chris had experienced enough for multiple lifetimes and he was exhausted.

So when Wesker stood up and mentioned something about calling Jill, Chris stood as well, blocking Wesker's way. Wesker went to step back—assuming Chris was simply deciding to call Jill himself. Instead, Chris stepped with Wesker. Chris guided his hand swiftly to the blonde's neck where he pulled them together.

Wesker allowed the closeness to happen.

Chris' urge was still there—gazes meeting for just a moment before Chris' eyes fell to Wesker's lips. Chris was only a few inches shorter than the blond but that didn't mean he wasn't able to capture the blonde's lips—and so he did.

The kiss was gradual- a small peck of a kiss, at first, but when Chris' lips parted invitingly, Wesker's arms wrapped around Chris and pulled the two against one another fully. Wesker eagerly pushed against Chris and without the tight grip of Wesker's fingers digging into Chris' hips, Chris surely would have toppled over.

Chris' fingers clawed through Wesker's hair—the hair was less slicked back than Chris remembered it being and was easy to ruffle through with a lack of hair product. Chris' opposite hand gripped at the back of Wesker's neck, urging Wesker to do more than just kiss him.

They broke apart for a long moment, gasping. The air was heated around them and their eyes reflected their mutual desire for one another—and so they clashed back together like the two opposing forces they were and Chris was knocked backwards onto his couch with Wesker atop him.

Kissing and repositioning turned out to be difficult on such a small loveseat. Chris' jeans were torn from his hips and stalled at his knees—securing him underneath Wesker who straddled his hips. Wesker's lips traced Chris' jawline for a moment before he removed his sweater in one swift move—leaving the blond shirtless.

He was leaner than Chris had seen in Africa—more natural, he thought, but still toned to hell.

Chris followed suit and leaned up, allowing Wesker to capture his lips for a moment before his shirt was across the floor. Chris' erection throbbed against Wesker's stomach when the blond leaned forward again and Chris groaned, bucking upwards.

Wesker smirked at the motion and shifted down Chris' legs carefully, balancing himself gracefully on the edge of the loveseat.

The blond took Chris' erection in his mouth in a blink of an eye and the warmth that engulfed Chris caused a moan from his throat that he was sure he had never heard from himself—in reality, anyway. Wesker's tongue was skillful as he bobbed his head, slowly at first, swallowing every bit of Chris he could. His lips worked faster and faster, until Chris' fingers were back in Wesker's hair and Wesker was holding down Chris' hips to stop him from bucking.

Chris was far too busy moaning and gasping to notice when Wesker's pants slid off but when Wesker's lips vanished, Chris groaned in protest. He opened his eyes to be met with Wesker's lips on his again and before he could question it, a warm, slick hardness pressed against his own causing him to groan into the kiss.

Wesker's hand cupped Chris' erection and his hips were thrusting his own erection against Chris'. Wesker steadied himself with his free hand and allowed his lips to explore Chris' chin before finding his neck. A soft bite timed as he thrusted and Chris exhaled heavily—a moan threatening to escape his throat.

The blond sucked the skin there for a moment, licking the darkened, tender skin.

Chris was close to orgasm prior to the sudden grinding and he could feel the tension build in his stomach as he grew closer to the edge. Wesker hummed against the skin, pressing kisses and soft bites around Chris' neck and shoulder—unknown to just how close Chris was. Chris was sure by this point, the blond was leaving dark marks across his skin and as much as love bites had turned him on in the past, receiving them from Albert Wesker was an entirely new level of intensity. Chris wasn't sure he could handle it.

And Chris couldn't handle it.

He moaned a long and stifled moan, fingers digging into Wesker's toned upper arms.

Each careful thrust by Wesker was a wave of pleasure by Chris and the sight of Wesker using spit as a lubricant on both cocks sent Chris so far over the edge he was sure he wasn't going to come back. It was a slow orgasm that had been rubbed and sucked and seized from him and as he came he could feel Wesker's gaze sweeping over him like a hunter watching his prey.

Chris gasped in exhaust and looked up at the blond just in time to see it; Wesker's eyes fluttered shut and his forehead rested against Chris' shoulder as he thrust once and then twice and groaned before another layer of warm mess splayed onto Chris' stomach.

The two stayed like this for a long moment and Chris was content with it, if he was honest. He allowed his eyes to shut and enjoy the warmth of another body atop him and the afterglow that came from—well—coming. He allowed this only because his mind was silent for the first time since before he had woken up and he was grateful; he was grateful for the lack of guilt and constant anxiety that came from existing and he was sure the more he thought about it, the more likely those feelings were to return so he quickly attempted to maneuver his thoughts away from the topic.

Before he could, Wesker stirred and he opened his eyes to see the blond looking down at him.

"Unexpected," the blond muttered with a smirk before gracefully removing himself from the couch and, in turn, Chris.

"Was it, really?" Chris asked from his position on the couch because if you were to ask him—the sex was one of the only things that were expected following the realization that both men had guided his mind-palace-cadapes.

"I didn't experience everything you experienced while under, Chris," Wesker chuckled, "Remember, I was still outside. I just know what you told me and the interesting way you detailed certain events."

Chris rolled his eyes but let the topic end there.

Unlike their previous encounters, Wesker left soon after with a call to Jill that she could come back without wanting to kill Chris because he was significantly less set on the idea of going under the control of this experimental drug for a second time let alone with Wesker watching him.

He may have slept with the blond, opened up a little, and been friends with him (apparently) but he still didn't trust him. Chris was positive that was never happening.

So following the longest shower he's ever taken, Chris left his room to find Jill lying on the very love seat where he had his very sexual encounter with Wesker. Jill had gone home to change and was now wearing a tank top and shorts—perfect to lounge around in. Her blonde hair was clipped to the top of her head where her roots had begun poking through. She was mindlessly scrolling through her phone when Chris took a seat across from her, hair still wet and shirt in hand.

"So I slept with Wesker," Chris said suddenly.

Jill's scrolling stopped almost immediately and without moving her phone, her eyes glanced toward Chris with a blink. There was shock—definitely—but a mix of anger and confusion and maybe excitement? Chris was bad at reading Jill during these times.

"You what?" she asked, finally locking her phone to sit up.

"Yeah," Chris sighed and gave a small shrug, "But hey, I don't want to go back under—"

"Don't you try to make it sound like fucking Wesker is okay," Jill said quickly.

Okay, there was the anger, Chris realized.

"It's not like I trust him, Jill. He was just—I mean—He's attractive?" Chris' statement came out far more like a question and Jill's scowl switched to the smallest smile possible and she rolled her eyes.

Jill groaned in response and jumped to her feet, phone tossed aside on the couch as she began to pace and lecture—A Jill classic, really.

"I'm not saying it's wrong to trust him. I mean, he has literally no control over our lives and he is watched basically every second of every day based on his contract with the BSAA but that doesn't mean he didn't do the things that he did and something about the thought of you two just-"

Jill was rambling and Chris saw it quickly.

"We're not a couple, Jill. It was just sex. Look, I just didn't want to hide it from you again. I'd rather you know from the—"

Chris realized he had fucked up just seconds too late when Jill froze and blinked down at him.

"Again?" she repeated and that tone was deadly.

"Oh God," Chris muttered and she pressed further.

"What do you mean 'again', Chris?"

Chris took a deep breath.

"He was guiding me throughout my drugged out state and while there, I guess, I found comfort in him. I mean, I kept coming to and finding myself in this weird place that I didn't recognize and then I'd be put under again and it all just felt like a weird dream. Nothing felt real and nothing felt right but Wesker was there and he helped and I liked it. I felt guilty as hell but I also felt less alone with him. And so things may have gotten sexual and he, being the guide that he was, allowed it and that's how we ended up on the couch together—"

"The couch?" Jill looked back at the loveseat she had just been lying on and shot Chris a disgusted look.

"I'm sorry," Chris said through a playful whine and she groaned again but the smirk on her face relieved Chris.

"Don't be sorry, I cleaned out your fridge," she said matter-of-factly, arms crossing over her chest.

"Which means?" Chris asked carefully.

"Which means you're pretty screwed if you want a beer," Jill retorted.

Chris nodded.

He did want one. His shower was filled with all of the thoughts that he was dreading and part of him didn't want to leave the shower because of his fear of falling back on alcohol. At the same time, he realized he technically had been without alcohol for a week and that was something at least. It was a start.

And the more he thought about it while under the spray of water, the more he realized why his emotions had been as bad as they had been while he was under—it all made sense. He hadn't been without a drink of alcohol in his system in such a long amount of time that he couldn't even pinpoint just how long it had been. Yet here he was.

"That's good," Chris muttered and Jill shot him a glance.

"Really?" she asked carefully.

"I mean—yeah. I have a problem and it's not going to be easy but a week without alcohol isn't a terrible start," Chris shrugged.

Before he knew what was happening, Jill's arms were around him and she was clinging on to the side of him with such a tight grip, he knew he had fingerprints on his skin when she pulled away.

"That's great, Chris!" she said excitedly before sitting in the chair across from him, eyeing the couch with a suspicious glare.

"Don't get too excited. Look, who knows what's going to happen, Jill? I might fuck up but I'm going to try and if I do end up falling backwards, I don't want the guilt of letting you down on top of me, too," Chris said seriously.

She groaned in frustration and shook her head.

"Why are you even thinking about me? You should be doing this for you and I'm here to help you to the best of my ability. I can't fight this fight for you but you bet your ass I'll be beside you… even if you do make a mistake," she said confidently and flashed a smile.

Chris nodded, "Thanks, Jill."

The two were left in a silence that Chris wasn't used to with her. Maybe it was because he was still missing a portion of his memory or maybe it was because he hadn't even been awake for a full day and his entire life was a mess. He honestly couldn't say why but after a long moment he sighed and said the thing that had been on his mind since he woke up—

"I miss Piers."

"I know," Jill spoke softly, "I don't think you'll ever stop and that's okay."

"Yeah," Chris muttered, eyes on the furry carpet at his feet.

"Maybe—" Jill began, the silence between them almost deafening as she spoke, "—Maybe you should think about retiring from the force, Chris."

"Yeah," Chris muttered again, a nod following the word.

"Have you thought about that, already?" Jill asked carefully and Chris scoffed.

"Only for the past decade," he retorted.

"Why haven't you? Chris, I know you inside and out and I can tell you that you've done your time. It's okay if you want to tap out. It's also okay if you don't want to tap out. I'm not trying to pressure you but—"

"I get it," Chris sighed, "I just need to think about it."

Jill nodded and pulled her legs under her before she spoke.

"I just think you need to put your health first—mental and physical."

Chris nodded again but remained quiet. She took this as a sign to continue.

"I've thought about calling it quits a few times. You know, the shit we've seen doesn't compare to anyone else," she sighed, "but I just don't feel like I'm quite done. I think I could do a little more—keep fighting the good fight and all that. I guess I'm waiting for a sign or something to tell me that I can call it and I haven't gotten one yet."

"I still want to help," Chris said, finally, "I still want to help people. That hasn't changed."

"I also know you well enough to say that part of you will never go away but maybe you can help in a less hands on way. Nobody should have to go on these missions as much as we do and I think the only reason we get sent out, sometimes, is because we have the most experience. But we deserve breaks, not just a solid health plan and the fuzzy warm feeling that we're doing something right for the world. I lay awake at night and see them, you know? The monsters never really go away," Jill sighed, "It's not just you, Chris. I know you feel like it, sometimes, but it isn't. Some of us are just better at hiding it and that sure has hell isn't always a good thing."