Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the below piece of fiction, Capcom & Michael Crichton do.

Warning: None

Authors Note: Once again, I gotta thank you all for being so awesome! The story now has over 100 reviews and it's all thanks to you guys! Plus, it has even more people reading it on a regular basis, so again, thats all thanks to you guys! I love you all! Anyways, not much to say about this chapter, but it's an important one and I hope you enjoy! Also, major props to MissPumpkinHead who corrected this even thought she's sick! Let's all hope she feels better soon!

Chapter 10- Compassion

Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth. ~Benjamin Disraeli~

Chris didn't get home until late that night, questions and security procedures being carried through late into the evening. Both Wesker and the suspect were taken to the hospital, and last Chris heard the young man who had been shot in the shoulder was taken into surgery.

There was no real news in regards to Wesker's condition.

Taking Barry home when they were free to go, the red haired man was silent the entire trip, mind deep in thought as Chris let him have his moment. It was strange to see Barry so silent and brooding, his voice and conduct unsure. Chris understood his current condition but it didn't make things any easier. A quick goodbye was said between the two outside Barry's house, and Chris watched Barry trudge up the sidewalk to his silent home, a lone light on in one of the top rooms in the house.

Silence reigned supreme that night.

When Chris arrived at his apartment he went to take a quick shower and then go to sleep, fully intent on forgetting about the evening for at least a few hours. While undressing he noticed a bulge in his vest pocket and pulled out Wesker's dark tinted sunglasses. He didn't know why he had taken the glasses in the first place. Maybe it was because he didn't want them to get lost- no doubt the medics would have removed them and possibly misplaced them. For some reason, Chris didn't want them to be damaged or lost in any way. Gently holding them, Chris looked over the expensive frames before placing them carefully on the bathroom counter, watching the light reflect off of the lenses.

Wesker could have died tonight, all because of a stupid drug deal. The entire idea pissed Chris off, adding to his already tainted mood. For a moment in there he had thought Wesker was dead- that a simple shot from some paranoid freak would take him out just like that. But it was a graze… only a graze.

Wesker was one lucky son of a bitch.

After a quick shower, Chris crawled into his bed and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, exhaustion overcoming after all of the adrenaline from before had run its course.

He didn't remember dreaming that night, but when he woke up from the ringing of his phone Chris felt like he hadn't slept a wink. It more felt like he had just fallen asleep mere moments ago instead of seven hours like his alarm was telling him.

Lying in bed for a few moments, Chris listened to the phone ring and ring, the sound filling the tiny apartment as he waited for it to stop.

It didn't.

Letting out a long sigh, Chris dragged himself out of bed and stumbled into his living room where he snatched the phone out of its cradle, a sour face accompanying the action.

"Hello, Chris Redfield speaking."

"Christopher. Good, I thought I had the wrong number."

Chris held back a gasp, and instead clutched the phone tightly against his ear. He hadn't expected to hear his Captain on the other line "Wesker… are you out of the hospital?"

"No, that is why I called you. They're letting me go, only under duress of course, but I was wondering if you could come and pick me up from the hospital." Wesker sounded tired and irritated, and Chris could only imagine what he looked like at the moment.

"Yeah, I'll be right there," Chris said before hanging up when he heard the line go dead. Putting the phone down gently, Chris looked outside his apartment window to see the sun sitting low in the early morning sky. He was a little shocked Wesker had called him, of all people, to pick him up.

He also couldn't get rid of that 'fuzzy' feeling in his chest with the idea of Wesker trusting him enough to have him pick him up, making Chris blush and then proceed to hit his head a few times against the doorframe.

**XX**

Walking into the waiting room of the Raccoon Hospital, Chris saw Wesker sitting in one of the plastic chairs, his posture ridged and stiff as his right arm rested in a blue hospital sling, a white paper bag sitting in his lap.

Chris had never felt more relieved to see someone than right at that moment. Hospitals had bad memories for Chris- mostly ones that ended with dead loved ones.

Bright lights, the calm and cold tone of a doctor, a simple sentence that would change his and Claire's lives.

"I'm sorry, but we were unable to save your mother and father… they passed away despite our best efforts."

"Hey…" Chris mumbled, snapping Wesker's attention from the screaming child across from him. Chris immediately saw the bags under his superior's eyes and the tension across his mouth. "How are you feeling?"

"I am fine, thank you for asking," Wesker said. Grabbing the bag with his left hand, he stood up and strode towards the door with Chris following behind like he was the one getting picked up.

"I called into the office and have scheduled for all of you to take the next three days off from work and we shall all meet again on Monday. I also contacted Irons and was updated as to the conditions of the suspects- the one individual who… who shot me came out of surgery and is recovering. We cannot get any information from him just yet, so in the meantime I expect you to finish your reports and hand them in on Monday," Wesker said as they walked to Chris' Jeep.

"Did you get any rest last night or this morning?" Chris asked, worried about Wesker's condition.

"I… I slept for a moment," Wesker simply stated as they came to the car. Unlocking it, Chris opened the door for Wesker to get in, who immediately gave him a look but got in anyways.

Slamming the door closed, Chris got in himself and watched as Wesker wrestled with the seatbelt. A moment passed before Wesker finished the job and sat looking strait ahead as Chris slowly turned the car on.

"What's in the bag?" Chris asked after he had pulled out of the parking lot.

"Antibiotics."

"Any ones that can get you high?"

"I… don't believe so," Wesker replied slowly, looking over at Chris before he began to shuffle through the bag.

"So you're going to have to give me directions to your house," Chris said, waiting at a set of red lights.

"I want you to take me to the RPD. I don't have time to go home," Wesker mumbled, pulling out a bottle to inspect the instructions written on the side.

"Oh no, you are going home and getting some rest. Look at you, you're still wearing the shirt you got shot in and it's covered in blood!" Chris said, shaking his head as the light turned green.

"Are you refusing my request?" Wesker asked, dropping the bottle back into the bag.

"Yeah, I am, because it's fucking stupid. Now tell me where your house is."

"No, take me to the RPD." Wesker's voice went dangerously low, but it didn't faze Chris. Instead the young man let out a frustrated sound and pulled the car over violently, driving into the parking lot of a diner.

"I'm taking you home. Now tell me where you live," Chris said, putting the car in park before he turned to look at Wesker. Wesker met his gaze and stared back before looking away.

"I took your sunglasses and I'll give them back to you if you tell me your address," Chris said, pulling the pair out of his jacket pocket. Wesker's attention immediately snapped to the sunglasses, eyes flashing. A moment passed before Wesker sighed and snatched them out of Chris' hands.

"I live on Park Street in the South West," Wesker said, putting the dark pair back on.

Chris nodded and took the car out of park and pulled out to begin the slow drive to Wesker's house, a little pleased with himself. Finally, he had won something against the stoic male.

A long silence stretched between the two as they drove before Chris spoke up, wondering if he should say what he was about to say or not. "I think you should wear your sunglasses less… I like your eyes."

That sounded less suave than he had anticipated, and he blushed even as he said it.

Wesker didn't say anything for a moment, and Chris glanced over at the man, who was smirking slightly.

"I appreciate the compliment, Christopher," he replied.

"No problem."

Again, silence.

"I'm glad you're okay."

"Thank you, I am as well."

Silence.

"Does your arm hurt?"

"It is numb at the moment due to the pain killers. I am sure I will feel slight discomfort later."

Silence… again.

The rest of the ride was taken in silence, with Chris occasionally speaking up to ask for directions or to further embarrass himself before they finally arrived at the apartment building Wesker resided in.

Stopping outside on the street, Chris turned the car off and got out to go and open the door for Wesker.

"I could open the door, you do realize this," Wesker stated, getting out before slamming the door closed.

"I know, but it'll hurt less this way," Chris supplied, walking with the blonde man to the apartment door. Wesker fumbled with his bag and keys as they stood at the door, ultimately making Chris grab the bag in order to speed up the process.

"Well thank you, Chris. I owe you for both picking me up as well as assisting me when I was injured last night," Wesker said, trying to take the bag back from Chris, who had moved away.

"Nope, not getting rid of me just yet. I still need to make sure you go and get some rest and not run immediately to the RPD."

Wesker growled and ripped the door open violently before storming into the lobby of the apartment. He seemed to wince slightly at the sudden movement, but brushed the pain away and strode to the elevators with Chris following behind, excited to see Wesker's apartment.

Stepping into the elevator, the two men stood apart in the tiny compartment, anger radiating off of one of them while the other stood relaxed and composed. Riding to the fifth floor, the doors opened with a soft chime and Wesker stepped out and hurried to the door of his home.

"I thought asking you to pick me up would not have such consequences," Wesker mumbled as he opened the door and stepped inside, Chris following behind slowly.

Black, whites, and greys were the main colours in the apartment. Sleek, black leather furniture sat in the living room with a glass coffee table in the middle. A TV sat in the corner, but it looked like it was never used. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with numerous texts on history, biology, chemistry, and biophysics. A black granite countertop separated the kitchen and the living room, and off to the side was a white washed hallway which led to what Chris supposed was the bedroom and bathroom.

The most noticeable feature about the apartment though, was the lack of personality. No photos, no little nick knacks, nothing out of place…

"Nice place," Chris said, sliding his shoes off at the entryway. Wesker grunted in response and snagged the bag out of Chris' hand while tossing his keys in a little dish by the door.

"It suits my needs," Wesker mumbled, going into the kitchen. Opening the silver refrigerator, Wesker took out a pitcher of water and went to grab a glass, ignoring Chris, who had wandered over to the windows and was looking outside at the view which overlooked a park.

"You can leave me now, I'm safe and I promise I will not leave," Wesker stated, finishing his glass of water. He was going to go put the pitcher away before his vision wavered, exhaustion and blood loss finally getting to him.

Chris turned around just in time to see the glass pitcher fall to the ground, breaking into large, jagged chunks. Wesker tried to steady himself on a counter, ultimately leading to his injured arm wrenching to the side awkwardly in his failed attempt.

"Fuck!" Wesker cursed as Chris rushed into the kitchen to help steady the man while avoiding the glass.

"Yeah, real safe," Chris mumbled, watching Wesker bite back another yelp. As soon as Wesker has stopped wobbling, Chris helped the man out of the kitchen and into the living room before Wesker ripped himself away.

"I really do not need your help," he growled out as he shuffled to the bedroom.

"Yeah, and why is that, huh? Why are you so damn unwilling to let someone show a little compassion?" Chris asked, following Wesker into the bedroom.

"Because I am embarrassed," Wesker spat out, turning around quickly. "Because the very first mission that we had, I was shot by an idiotic… snivelling… lowly little cretin."

Chris was taken by surprise and didn't say anything, shocked by how much emotion the usually stoic man was displaying. A moment of tense silence passed before Wesker turned back around and sat down heavily on his bed. Chris watched him take his sunglasses off and toss them onto his bedside table before he began to wrestle with his shirt, awkwardly trying to unbutton the ruined garment.

"What are you doing?" Chris whispered, going to stand closer to Wesker. Rolling his eyes, Wesker looked away and stared at the wall.

"I would like to take a nap. I almost passed out in the kitchen if you hadn't noticed."

"Yeah, I did..." Chris said, annoyance evident in his voice. Pushing aside any emotions that might interfere, Chris knelt down and started to unbutton Wesker's shirt, causing the man to stiffen.

"Just shut up and accept my help. I promise I won't tell anyone about this," Chris mumbled, trying not to think about the fact that he was taking Wesker's shirt off. An erection right now would really complicate things.

After undoing all of the buttons, Chris moved up and helped Wesker take the sling off, noticing the bullet wound was wrapped tightly by white bandage, hiding the injury. Once the sling was off Chris helped Wesker slide the shirt off, exposing his pale, well defined chest to the now blushing male.

The entire time Wesker stayed silent, eyes staring off ahead as he grudgingly accepted the help from Chris. Once the shirt was off and discarded, Chris looked up and locked eyes with him.

"There… that wasn't so bad, right?" Chris asked, trying to make a little joke to ease the tension. Chris was kneeling between Wesker's legs as he stayed on the floor, hand gently touching the bandage wrapped around his arm. Sitting upright, he was at level with Wesker, who was looking him over curiously. A moment of silence passed, and Chris' eyes slid down to look at Wesker's thin lips before snapping back up to meet his gaze.

"I suppose it wasn't that bad," Wesker whispered, before another dizzy spell hit. Reaching out, Wesker closed his hand around Chris' shoulder and squeezed slightly as his eyes shut.

Chris let out a soft sigh as the strange moment between them passed, and held Wesker up as the dizziness crept through his system before slowly going away.

"You should have just kissed me."

"What?" Chris hissed out, disbelief in his voice.

"I said you should go home," Wesker stated, opening his eyes as he retracted his arm and moved to slowly lower himself down on his mattress, lying on top of his comforter. "I would like to sleep without you staring at me."

"Oh… yeah, of course." Standing up, Chris rubbed the back of his neck and looked Wesker over once more before he stumbled towards the door. "Uh… call me if you need anything. And if not… well I'll see you on Monday?"

Wesker hummed softly and waved Chris off, signalling he was really done with the restless puppy dog following him around. Stepping out and closing the door, Chris continued to the kitchen where he cleaned up the broken water pitcher before leaving the apartment, emotions a whirlwind.

"What the fuck just happened?" Chris mumbled to himself as he sat in his Jeep, hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.

**XX**

"It seemed like it was an underground pharmacy ring than anything else," Chris said, smoke dangling from his fingers as Barry half-heartedly played a game on the pinball machine in the bar.

"Is that what the investigators are saying?" Barry asked, sighing as the ball fell through the hole for the third time and told him his game was over. Tearing his gaze away from the game, Barry moved with Chris to sit down at one of the tables.

"No, but I don't know… I took a look at some of the files, and unless a large number of old folks are using LSD…" Chris trailed off, letting the statement go unfinished.

Barry let out a soft chuckle, the first one Chris had heard all night. "It was strange what was going on… I didn't think much about it at the time, but you're right, it was mostly pills and prescriptions littering the place."

The two men sat in silence as they contemplated the evening yesterday and the strange 'drug ring' they had busted.

"So, the suspect… he's out of surgery and he's fine. Sore and not talking, but I hear he's fine," Chris supplied, trying to make Barry feel better about the shooting situation.

"That's good to hear. I was… well I was worried," Barry said, frowning as he looked at the tabletop. "Killing isn't something I think any of us would want to do, especially on our first mission."

"Hey… I know you're feeling bad about shooting the guy, but you did the right thing. You thought like a cop and not a regular civilian. You did your job, Barry," Chris said, getting Barry to look at him.

"Yeah, I know… it'll just take some time for me to get over it, but I will. The girls and I are going to the zoo tomorrow, so maybe some chimps will cheer me up."

Chris laughed softly and reached over to pat Barry on the shoulder. "You're a good guy, you know that?"

"Thanks, kid," Barry said, genuinely smiling this time.

"I had a lot of thank you's said to me today, but that's the first one I actually felt came from the heart," Chris said, thinking about Wesker's erratic behaviour today.

"What do you mean?" Barry asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Captain called me today early in the morning, asking to be picked up from the hospital. He thanked me a couple times when I helped him to his apartment and with other little things like getting to bed to take a nap… but it was more of a forced thanks, you know?"

"How is the Captain?" Barry asked, completely disregarding Chris' little rant.

"He's okay, on a lot of antibiotics and kind of out of it, but he's good. Embarrassed though… first mission and he got shot."

Barry nodded slightly before smiling softly. "He's starting to trust you a lot, Chris."

"Y-you think so?" Chris asked, the tips of his ears going pink. He thanked the bar for the low lighting.

"Yeah, he asked you to come and pick him up, and then told you about how he was feeling. That's certainly rare."

"I… I guess so," Chris replied, a small smile playing at his lips as he thought what Barry had said through.

Maybe Wesker was actually starting to care?

Ya'll can just say it- I'm a bitch. Taking that perfect opportunity and then not going with it! But hey, you all know that it'll happen soon... but how soon is the question. Anyways, once again thanks for reading/reviewing/favoriting!