Author's Note: To those of you who stuck around I can't thank you enough. These past few years have been a mess and there were times when I could barely function but I could write so fanfiction got me through it. I hope you thoroughly enjoyed it as I have.

Chapter 27

Drift Away Like Our Endless Numbered Days

Iron & Wine

Three Months Prior

"This is why I told them not to tell you yet," Jill sighed in exhaustion.

Chris didn't respond immediately. The brunet had stormed into his office following the explosive encounter and immediately sat behind his desk, now nursing his bruised right fist. Jill followed him in, a plastic bag of ice cubes in her hand. She kicked the door closed and sat across from him, tossing the plastic bag on his desk before crossing her legs.

"How long has that asshole been alive?" Chris growled, "How long have you known?"

Jill sighed—heavier this time.

"Long enough," she responded.

"And you didn't fight it?" Chris asked, voice fill to the brim with accusation.

Jill shot him a dangerous look as she spoke, "You really think I wanted this? You think I didn't fight them on it?"

Chris exhaled in a sad attempt to control his anger because this really wasn't Jill's fault. Jill crossed her arms and sank into her seat when the defeated look appeared on Chris' face.

"I'm sorry, I know it's not your fault. Just.. Why did you have to keep this from me?" Chris groaned and his uninjured hand ran through his hair.

"I shouldn't have known, actually. But I ran into him when he was leaving late one night. He has to check in every few hours and I guess the phones were down—and before you ask, no, I don't really know the contract details he has with the BSAA. But anyway, after he dodged a few of my punches and I had to be pulled off of him—" She smirked and paused to trade a proud glance Chris' way, "They told me everything. They subdued the virus in him and he does work for the BSAA, gets paid, and gets his treatment but he's kept on a short leash, from what I hear."

"That doesn't mean—"

"I know, Chris. I know," Jill sighed.

Silence hung between them for a minute and the thoughts that crossed his mind struck fear somewhere deep within him and simply glancing at Jill with fear stricken eyes had Jill nodding in agreeance.

"I know," she muttered quietly.

"What if it's STARS all over again?" Chris said, vocalizing their simultaneous thoughts as he reached forward to finally grab the cold plastic bag Jill offered him—nursing his fist.

Jill didn't have a response for him. The silence sat at the base of his belly—heavy and horrifying at the same time. The BSAA had started out in a strange situation, sure, but as Jill and Chris rose through the ranks, the company had done significantly less shady dealings.

In fact, Chris thought they had access to contracts like Wesker's and the fact that neither Jill nor Chris knew about this meant there was a lot more being hidden.

"What else are they hiding?" Chris asked darkly.

Chris woke with a start—it was all there.

He remembered.

Shock and horror hit him simultaneously. The things he asked of Wesker were unfair with horrendous results if they were found out. What kind of monster did he turn into? What was this experiment even going to do for him, really? Absolutely nothing.

It was a dream. A test. Just to see if he could change anything but in reality—None of it mattered.

Chris had no doubt that the events of Raccoon City weren't his fault and he did the best he could with the knowledge presented to him at the time. But that wasn't even the goal of the entire experiment.

Piers was always the goal and maybe the only reason he fought so hard for this was just to be able to see the man again.

He grabbed and unlocked his phone from the nightstand—eyes glossing over the white numbers that stated just how early it was in the morning. Immediately, he clicked the call button and hit the top name on his recent calls list.

The phone rang twice before a deep groan answered;

"Yes?"

Wesker's tired voice was quickly followed by a quiet yawn.

"Sorry—" Chris muttered non-apologetically, "—But I remember."

One Month Prior

"I know this is a lot to ask," Chris sighed and rubbed his eyes.

His cheeks were warm and his head swam from the alcohol. His fingers tingled as they lingered on the cold but half empty glass in front of him. He rested his head onto the palm of his hand, leaning against the table as his gaze fell on the blond across from him. The silence between them was heavy and the sounds of the surrounding bar was distant to the them both. Music, talking, laughing, pool cues being shot—all sounds that Chris drowned out.

"But Miss Valentine—"

"Can't know," Chris said quickly.

Chris found it funny that, after all this time, Wesker insisted on referring to Jill in such a professional way. The three of them had such an abnormal friendship but it worked and it was comfortable—even though Chris and Jill both still called the blond "Wesker".

But Jill wasn't here right now.

"Chris, I cannot do this," Wesker finally said, his hands interlocking on the table.

Chris nodded numbly—his gaze absent. All he could think about was Piers—it was exhausting and hurt but he couldn't shake the guilt and the pain of losing him.

Many sleepless nights plagued Chris and the words 'it should have been me' echoed through him like the hollow vessel he became. Piers wasn't finished fighting. It should have been me. Piers had more to offer to the world than Chris had left in him to give. It should have been me. Piers Nivans was a damn hero and savior. It should have been me.

"I should have been me," Chris muttered into his glass as he emptied the contents into his mouth.

"Do not—" Wesker began seriously, reaching forward to grab the glass, "—Do not say that."

"I thought you would understand," Chris scoffed in bitter anger, "Your past with your actions and the guilt you claim to have—"

"You are treading on very dangerous ground, Christopher," Wesker warned carefully.

But Chris was drunk and in pain and was sick of feeling like this.

Chris scoffed and crossed his arms as he spoke, "why? What are you going to do, Wesker? Kill me?"

Wesker appeared calm to the outside view but Chris could see the mix of pain and anger in Wesker's eyes, could see his lip twitch and his fists tighten at the words. Chris didn't regret the words, yet, but he wasn't trying to hurt Wesker, either. Chris was just angry—all the time. Chris was so angry that it sometimes got to the point where he questioned who he was angry at; was Chris angry with himself for letting Piers die? Was Chris angry at Jill for watching him fall deeper into the hole of depression he found himself in? Was Chris angry at Wesker for coming back and suddenly being a somewhat likeable human being? Was Chris angry at the way the world always took people from him? Or Was Chris just angry at Piers for leaving so readily?

Did any of it matter anymore?

"You ask me to risk all that I have built, Christopher," Wesker scoffed, "If I get caught stealing anything let alone an experimental drug—I would be killed. I do not get the luxury of you or Jill, the BSAA is not a career choice," Wesker spoke in a low hiss.

"And whose fault is that?" Chris shot back quickly, "because last I checked, it sure as hell isn't mine. With how much shit you put us through—with how much you have done… I thought you would be willing to do this."

"And how much longer can you hold my past over me, Christopher? I was a puppet and Umbrella pulled the strings," Wesker was seething because Chris knew this—all of it. Chris knew more about Wesker than Wesker knew for a long, long time. "I am not interested in becoming another puppet. You cannot manipulate me to do as you wish with guilt."

Wesker was positioned between Chris' legs as Chris sat perched on his dining room table. The blond pinched at Chris' wrist whilst he counted quietly. Chris fought the urge to cross his ankles and, instead, looked out the window into the early morning sky. Hunger lingered in the pit of his stomach and he sighed in thought.

"You put a lot on the line for me," Chris muttered to the blond.

Wesker took a moment to respond as he finished counting to himself before writing something into the file to Chris' right. The Albert Wesker standing in front of Chris was not the Albert Wesker he had come to know over the years. Wesker's personality was the same—as egotistical and dramatic as ever. His intentions were even basically unchanging as he rarely would do anything that didn't benefit him in some way, shape, or form.

"Perhaps, you were owed," Wesker responded, setting the pen in his hand down onto the table before turning back to Chris.

Wesker had changed in other ways, Chris realized carefully. The blond was careful in his actions and words but he was more open with Chris and Jill than he was during his time as captain of STARS and maybe Chris was a little thankful for that.

"Guilt?" Chris asked.

Wesker hummed.

"Nothing can be done to correct my past," Wesker stated matter-of-factly.

"But maybe the future doesn't have to be shit?" Chris asked.

Wesker smirked, "I suppose."

Three Weeks Prior

Waking up was always the hardest part for Chris. Every day gave him the same damn thing and he just longed for the day he could wake and not want to be dead. Even after lying in bed for an unknown amount of time, he simply turned over and fought to go back to sleep even if sleep rarely brought him rest.

Several days had passed since he last spoke to Wesker and he was almost positive the blond would soon tell Jill. He curled into himself at the thought of Jill judging him for his request and looking down on him even further than she did now.

And Chris would be lying if he didn't admit he felt slightly guilty for what he said to the blond.

His phone ringing tore him from his attempts and he sighed in annoyance. Chris glanced towards his phone on his side table but decidedly ignored the call—he was off today so if he wanted to stay in bed, he would.

When the second call arrived, he groaned and grabbed it quickly.

"What, Wesker?" Chris muttered to himself as he read the name across his screen. After a deep sigh, he sat up and answered.

"Hello?" He asked.

"I'll do it," Wesker stated.

Chris doesn't remember how it happened but once the kissing started—it didn't stop. He wanted it to continue, sure, but he also wanted to talk about what the kissing really was. Instead, Chris' legs had trapped Wesker against him and Wesker's hands were running across Chris' bare back. Chris was still perched on his dining room table and the quick exam Wesker gave of him held positive results.

Chris was, more or less, back.

Chris broke the kiss reluctantly and released the death grip he held on Wesker's black jacket. Wesker remained against the brunet, however, lips trailing over stubble against Chris' jawline.

"Shouldn't we talk about this?" Chris asked breathlessly.

Wesker simply hummed in agreeance but continued to trail kisses to Chris' neck where he began to lick and suck the skin there. Chris gave a quiet groan before forcefully pulling his head away. Wesker smirked at the blush creeping up Chris' tanned chest and Chris sighed heavily again.

"I'm serious," Chris stated.

Wesker stepped away, prying himself from Chris' legs.

"I was not the one—"

"I know I started this," Chris muttered, "I know."

"Then I suppose you should begin."

One Week Prior

Chris was silent while his eyes followed Wesker waltzing back and forth across their makeshift hospital room. He was nervous—Chris could see it in his tentative movements and the way he tapped his pen against his thigh while he read over the forms for the drug again. Chris exhaled heavily, successfully pulling Wesker's attention and he flashed a reassuring smile.

"I'll be fine," Chris muttered.

Wesker gave a sarcastic scoff and walked towards Chris after he finished situating himself on the bed.

"A drug being injected into your body that is still being experimented with? That is, of course, if I can successfully steal more every three days without risk of being found out or you waking and ruining the trial or Miss Valentine discovering us," Wesker stated matter-of-factly.

And maybe it was the fact that Albert Wesker was even willing to do all of this in the first place or maybe it was the several beers Chris had been drinking prior to arriving but something came over him as he watched Wesker unravel before him in a way that he had never seen before. Wesker was nervous and scared and Chris was giddy because he was going to see Piers again and apologize and he just wanted to show Wesker just how appreciative he was.

And Chris was very appreciative.

Chris gripping the front of Wesker's sweater was surprising to the blond in itself but when lips were pressed on lips and they didn't let up—surprise turned into confusion quickly. Once their lips had settled and realization to exactly what was happening passed through Wesker, the blond took it upon himself to part his lips and accept Chris' action. The blond towered over Chris' sitting form, causing Chris to suddenly become enveloped with the heat radiating from the taller form.

Chris doesn't remember when Wesker's hand rested on the base of the back of Chris' neck or how his own hands came to be dipping into Wesker's covered upper arms. When the kiss broke, there was a long moment where the two men simply stared at each other but when Wesker took a step back, Chris grabbed him by the wrist to stop him.

It worked.

"Thank you," Chris said, quietly.

"So why exactly was I called here?" Jill asked after she was handed a cup of tea made by Wesker. Her blond hair was tied in a messy bun atop her head that bobbed as she looked back and forth between the two men.

Wesker settled in the seat across from Jill and Chris with his own cup and looked at Chris expectantly.

"I think I just need help talking," Chris said quietly, trying painfully hard to avoid Wesker's gaze as he spoke.

"You never had an issue before," Jill muttered, blowing over her cup after speaking and winking at Wesker who gave a chuckle.

"Nobody gets me to open up like you, Jill, and I just want you to be here in case I say something wrong and it starts a fight or… something," Chris muttered, eyeing Jill.

"Fine, but I'll be quiet and listen," she agreed with a shrug and Chris nodded.

This wasn't abnormal, not really. The three became this weird level of friends together and Jill had saved Chris time and time before—especially with Wesker. Something about the blond made Chris nervous when he wasn't quite confident with what he was doing or saying and this was most definitely one of those times.

"I'm sorry," Chris said with a sigh, eyeing Wesker.

"What could you possibly be apologizing for?" the blond asked carefully, right leg folding elegantly over his left where he rested the tea cup.

Chris' hands began to fumble with each other anxiously.

"I should never have asked you to do what you did," Chris said quickly, "it was horrible and I'm not that person. It was for selfish reasons that both of you deserve to know much more about but—" he trailed off, "I'm really sorry."

"I owed you, Christopher," Wesker shrugged.

"No," Chris spoke sternly, "Not like that, you didn't. It was guilt and manipulation."

"You simply cannot manipulate someone who is aware they are being manipulated. I understand very well what I agreed to and I am telling you, Christopher, do not apologize. All is well, between us."

Chris assumed that was Wesker speak for 'you're forgiven' and resigned to continue the conversation in a different direction.

"When I kissed you a week ago, I need you to know something," Chris said, "It was something I did in the moment. I'm not a very rash person but in that moment I felt like I could do anything and so… I did. Not only was I ecstatic that you agreed to everything but I truly couldn't wait to see Piers again—" Chris cut himself off and exhaled heavily.

"But then—" he continued, "You guided me and I put my trust in you so heavily that you became a place of comfort for me. I fought it so hard subconsciously but I could see it happening. Anytime I was alone or sad, somehow Albert Wesker would appear and guide me straight through it. I can't say I've lost that trust as much as I'm fighting it," Chris spoke honestly, "but, at the same time, I'm not looking for a relationship."

"I'm figuring my shit out and I know you guys will be there and I know I'm a mess but maybe we can talk about some sort of committed something without too much pressure… or something."

Chris watched Wesker soak in the words once he finished. The silence in the room was heavy and he could see Jill shift uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye. Wesker's eyes were downturned and his fingers tapped at the now empty tea cup in his opposite hand.

Wesker's sudden movement startled both Jill and Chris simultaneously. Four eyes followed Wesker meticulously- he placed the tea cup on the coffee table and stepped carefully towards Chris.

"Christopher," he spoke in a smooth voice that made Chris want to purr, "Call it what you wish but you are mine," Wesker stated, hand lifting Chris' chin to capture Chris' worried lips with his own for a moment, "and I am yours."

And that was that.

Chris didn't want a label. Chris didn't want obligations or expectations past what he was already doing and if this was all that was needed for both of them—he was more than happy with that. Did he trust Albert Wesker with his life? Not yet and for all the brunet knew, maybe it never would come. But they were relaxed and comfortable and that was enough.