Another little interlude for all of you!

Albert was terrified.

It wasn't being in Arkham that had him so nervous. The guards were good at keeping him safe from the others. It was knowing that Scarface was going to come here soon. He didn't want to depend on Scarface anymore. More importantly, he didn't think that he had to anymore.

Goblin was… strange. Albert never had anyone do that for him, not that he could remember. The reassurances had been comforting and encouraging. The problem was, as much as he wanted to believe the Goblin, he knew, knew that he couldn't survive without Scarface.

He needed him.

Goblin's words still echoed in his mind. Scarface needed him too. He understood that now. The idea that there were other people who could help him, people who weren't as evil as Scarface, that was a comforting lie. Deep down, Albert knew that it wasn't true. He liked to dream though.

Then, when the police had driven him a few miles away from the building where the meeting had taken place, his connection with Scarface disappeared.

It was shocking, like ducking his head into a bucket of cold water. Suddenly, the Goblin's words made sense. Suddenly, he knew that he didn't have to follow Scarface anymore. Suddenly, he had real, tangible hope of not having to be an accessory to Scarface's crimes. He was free.

Albert cried the rest of the way to Arkham.

Now, trapped safely in Arkham, Albert had a new worry that surfaced in his head. What would happen if Scarface came back? He always did. Even when his body was destroyed, Scarface somehow came back. Sometimes he was delivered to Arkham and was brought to Albert, and sometimes Albert himself was the one who fashioned Scarface a new body.

Would Scarface's return mean that Albert would be trapped again? Was there no escape?

That was why he nearly screamed six days later when a box the size of a ventriloquist dummy was delivered to his room. Scarface was back, he knew it.

At first, Albert refused to open the box. He shoved it into the corner of his room and didn't look at it. Of course, he couldn't do that forever. Eventually, he had to open it. For a second he heard a voice in his head that sounded like the Goblin telling him not to, but the voice was wrong. He had to, otherwise Scarface would be mad.

He eventually opened it, and Scarface wasn't there to curse him. Something, someone else was there, staring up with a kindly smile.

The ventriloquist dummy was modeled after an older man, one with wrinkles gained from a lifetime of smiling. His wooden hair was painted to look as if it was just starting to grey as well. He wore a red, button-up sweater with a blue shirt and a tie. His outfit was tied together with loose-fitting slacks and a pair of blue sneakers. Albert unconsciously lifted the puppet out of the box and slid his hand into its back.

The puppet turned to meet Albert's eyes with a friendly smile and spoke.

"Hello Albert, my name is Mister Rogers, and I'd like to be your friend."

Albert's heart surged with happiness for just a second, but then a horrible thought popped into his head. He wasn't worth befriending. There was nothing to like about him. Albert told Mister Rogers so in a long, despairing speech, with sobs sprinkled throughout it. Mister Rogers just sat patiently and listened. Then, when Albert's voice trailed off, he unknowingly set Mister Rogers' hand on his arm, and a kind, loving voice filled the room.

"Albert, there's no person in the whole world like you, and I like you just the way you are."

From that moment on, Albert Wesker knew he never had to worry about Scarface again.

Norman is based partially on me, that's why it's an SI/OC. I know that I wouldn't be able to help Wesker, probably not even with a super-serum and an outer-space artifact enhancing my intelligence. But I know who could, and so does Norman. (My headcanon is that Mister Rogers doesn't exist in DC. The ventriloquist dummy is just channeling him through the sheer power of his awesome kindness.)