Author's Note: Finally another update! With psychological stress, apathy and a bit of Writer's Block, it's been impossible. I've back on my groove now, though we won't be having another update till next week or further; I'm in my last moments of schools and exams need to be passed xD In this chapter, we're going to see what's REALLY happening to Chris and how much the virus is influencing his mind state. Watch out for the next one, because things are getting precarious.

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters.

XXI

Downfall

Sometimes don't deny that everything is wrong
Sometimes I'd rather die than to admit it's my fault
Sometimes when you cry, I just don't care at all
I don't know why I do the things I do to you but…

"Don't worry, she's going to be fine," Sherry assured, the ghost of a smile across her pale face. "Her wounds shouldn't take long to heal, but it's going to be her shoulder which is going to take the most time to do it fully. Nevertheless, there's no head trauma or anything worse than what she's already sustained, so we shouldn't be too worried."

Chris didn't trust it. Who knew what those bastards had done to her? At least, they hadn't killed her, but her state was miserable, the worst he'd seen her in so far. Out of instinct, he asked Sherry,

"Will you help her?"

"She saved my life, you know that. The only fair thing is that I repay my debt," Sherry said, nodding as she locked gazes with him. Chris saw sincerity in her hues, but that still didn't console him. With nothing else to say, he stood up and left the room, trying to clear his mind before his thoughts got into a much worse mess.

xx

If there was a moment when Chris was truly getting scared and wasn't showing it, it was now.

An hour had gone by since Marco's 'visit', an hour since he'd gotten his sister back and she'd been saved from a sure death, an hour since trepidation had decided to become his only companion. As he stared at his sister's calm figure upon the bed, he clenched his fist out of reflex.

Who were his only material companions were darkness and Claire, who was resting in one of the many rooms she had been left to rest after the surgery. As Sherry had said, the beating had left her with some broken bones, contusions and bruises, and many of those fractures had gone to worse: fragments of bone had punctured some blood vessels and some had been close to sticking out of the flesh, mostly in her shoulders. A beating? That had been torture, no other word to use.

Jill had tried to comfort him as much as she could and as much as he allowed her to, because Chris knew that many times, words were not necessary or even made things worse. Of course, he appreciated her attempts, but there had been something about them that didn't give Chris the good vibes. He knew Jill meant it, that when she'd said she'd be with him she meant it, but the tone of her voice had been what had confused and unsettled Chris: it was softer and almost half-hearted, as if something was also bothering her, something where Claire wasn't concerned. It was something else, and Chris had no other option than try and pry it out, see if it was something with which he could help.

At the same time, he'd been worried about Claire. How would she take his current state? Redfields could be understanding and accept things quickly, but all behind a reasonable limit, and Chris' state was beyond the reasonable. He could've joked with Jill about it the first time they talked about the subject, but that had only been in vain: his enthusiasm had been overcome by trepidation and uneasiness. Also, Redfields had a good ability to forgive (not forget though, and also behind a reasonable limit), but that wasn't much of a consolation to Chris: no matter what, Claire would see him as someone else, something else he didn't want to think about.

In the darkness before him, Claire grunted and tossed, giving signs of consciousness. It was at that time that Chris' gut clenched in awe and hesitation, a sudden impulse to spring to his feet and start running forcing him to do the first thing of the two. In concern, he watched her lids flicker and finally, she came to herself. She looked paler than usual, but to his fortune and hers, she didn't seem too beat up or weak. When Chris caught glimpse of her eyes, he saw the lively gleam in them once more making its return to her sky hues. He couldn't help a faint and sad smile: it had been so long since he had seen her again that he wanted to embrace her, to talk and laugh with her once more like they did before, but that wouldn't be possible unless things took a turn for the best, even if it was the smallest of turns. Not even if he desired to do so, Chris couldn't even smile with might.

After getting her bearings, Claire felt for the light switch, still a bit stunned. Chris couldn't allow her to see him, not yet.

"Don't do that," he said before stopping himself. He noticed his voice was much lower, different, so that would give him the advantage whilst being in the dark. Claire gasped, startled, and looked around, clearly unable to discern any figures in the pitch-black darkness.

"Who's there?" she spoke into the dark, her voice one of alarm. Chris remained silent for a moment before asking,

"Can't even recognize my voice, sis?"

Claire's gasp was the loudest one he'd ever heard, and he couldn't blame her.

You can't help it, you can't do anything against it: you're not her BROTHER anymore, and she will tell you.

Again that voice in his head, that voice that had become his inner companion, the voice that offered little consolation but made him plunge even more into the reality he was living in, making everything settle inside his mind like someone setting down the pieces of a puzzle. Every time it spoke, it put a special emphasis in some words, words that were known and unknown to him and would soon be unknown and known. With each experience, each word would acquire a new meaning, each word would be replaced by another one, until words that were so familiar to him were nothing more than alien to him, strange, unheard of, non-existent.

Walking at a deliberately slow pace towards the light switch next to the door, Chris took a short, quick breath and flicked on the light, being careful enough to cover his eyes first to avoid being left blind. Once he lowered his arm, Chris and Claire were face to face, staring into each other's eyes as if time wasn't a problem for both of them. To break the silence and, metaphorically, the ice, Chris decided to speak first.

"Claire?"

She didn't seem to be listening, only kept staring at him as her eyes mirrored the immense disbelief and horror that she felt, no doubt about it. He knew what she was staring at, and how he wished he could've avoided that. Claire kicked off the sheets and stood up, not paying attention to her bandages or the pain Chris suspected she was sensing, and approached him with small, hesitant steps. He couldn't take it anymore: feeling a mix between shame and anger, he turned his face away from her, breaking and avoiding eye contact at all costs. His mind was making up horrible worst-case scenarios that were more and more plausible every second that passed, every moment he felt Claire getting closer, every breath he took.

In the end, nothing happened.

A hand cupped his cheek, but Chris was still unmoving, his chest heavy with anguish and despair, but Claire didn't say anything. Instead, she forced him to look at her and once again, Chris met Claire's intense, concerned gaze, all in a dreadful, heavy silence. He felt scared, childishly scared, but he couldn't help it.

"What have they done to you?" Claire asked at last, her voice quivering. As he swallowed, Chris even felt his own saliva finding troubles to go past the lump in his throat; Claire's voice tone was heart-clenching, like the song of an unstrung violin. There were so many things he wanted to say, but now not even his brain would coax him into talking; he had lost all words to use. He was mute, and he wished to be deaf.

Claire bit her lip as tears streaked down her cheeks, not looking away from his gaze and tilting his head down as if searching for something that told her what she was seeing wasn't true, that it was all an illusion; oh how Chris wanted to tell her that it was all real, whether in delirium or not.

"God, what have they done to you?"

Finally finding energy to speak, Chris uttered,

"You know what I've been turned into. What am I to you now? Why would you ask that? Why care?" Those questions had been unconscious, unaccounted for, questions that had been formulated by some dormant part in his mind that had awakened, one that was darker than the deepest corner of his heart. He didn't know how Claire would answer them, not even if she would, and the silence made his conviction grow stronger: she had no words to say about it. Negative thoughts were impossible to keep at bay, and Chris didn't fight them; it was meaningless.

Ask her, come on! There's no harm in knowing she won't consider you her BROTHER anymore, is there?

I already know it; I just don't want to hear it be confirmed. Even though I want to ignore it, there's no way of turning reality back, no way of turning it into a mere illusion, and I can guarantee I'm the first one who wants that to happen.

Finally, my INSANE objective is being achieved, eh?

"Because I'm not looking at the one who has these eyes," Claire said, and Chris caught every single word of the sentence, "but because I'm looking into my brother's blue eyes, even if I'm just imagining it. Because he's still there, because you still are my brother. And since when am I so understanding? Since when do I state things without asking for information first? Because there will be time for that. Right now, I just... I just want to spend some time with you, even if it's merely for a second, a millisecond, no matter what. You're-you're back, Chris, and I couldn't care less about the rest for now."

What left Chris in almost shock was the strength with which Claire embraced him, even if she was using a single arm, and held him close, not willing to let him go again, as if he were to vanish into thin air. Either Chris was already confused or he was feeling strange, because he never thought a gesture of affection like that one would get to his heartstrings. Never in his life he would accept her embrace like he did then, because he knew that was the most sorrowful of them all, and oh how he wished to sweep that sorrow away. There was nothing he could do now, just remain silent and surround Claire with his arms as her shoulders convulsed into soft cries.

"You-you were gone... and now you're here again, you're-" she managed to say, but Chris couldn't help it: he interrupted her with words that he was sure she did not wish to hear from him.

"Not someone you remember," he spoke, his voice barely a whisper, and Claire looked up at him, eyes bleary and cheeks humid. Chris met her gaze, taking in how it was ablaze with something close to indignation and rage, all mixed with sorrow and relief. He also took in her scent: rage was all that could be sensed, indignation too, just like it happened with her gaze.

"Don't look at me like that," Chris said, his tone of reproach, "because you know I'm speaking the truth. I might be alive, but it seems I'm alive to be what I'm not. I'm not the brother you remember me to be; I'm changing, and only time will tell how long it'll take you to realize that."

"So you're just pushing me away now? Is that what you want?" Claire snapped, scowling at him as she backed away. "I knew you were always stubborn, but this is just ridiculous. So here I am, I've been worried sick about you, and now you're telling me you're not Chris? I mean, c'mon, what is this? Split personality?"

"Claire, thanks to what I am now, I felt tempted to kill Jill, and if you keep this up, I might even start feeling like doing so with you," Chris replied, raising his voice. "Take it as you want, but I'm serious. The virus is doing horrible things to me and I already told Jill, so I'm going to tell you this time: at this rate, I might as well go insane!"

"What are you saying?" Claire asked in disbelief, her eyes wide. "Do you really believe that? Chris, you-"

"So you're my sister and you don't even know half about me, eh?" Chris asked, sardonic. "Claire, it's happened twice: I've felt like killing people, and it's a feeling so strong that I can barely stop myself. I haven't killed anyone yet, but I'll do so eventually, I know that. Do you think hearing voices in my head was in my expectations?"

Claire's face was a mask of shock, whilst Chris could feel himself smirking, glad he had taken that weight off his chest. Jill didn't know yet, even though he'd told her most of what he had to say before, but it was a lot different with Claire. It was time she knew, it was time he stopped wondering if she'd accept him again or not: if he didn't tell her about this, he would never know, not truly. Claire would remain ignorant to his state, until one day that decision would prove to be a mistake.

"What were you infected with?" Claire inquired, taking a couple of steps forward, her eyebrows meeting in concern. Chris seemed to snap out of whatever alternate reality he was in, because everything felt more real than it was before. He was unable to understand the why of his actions, the why of his behaviour and words, but it had all seemed to go away. Calm once more, Chris sighed and leaned against the wall.

"It was almost a month ago. Jill and I were called in on a mission to stop a clandestine deal concerning Uroboros. You heard about it, didn't you?"

Claire nodded. "Yeah, I heard about the virus in some TerraSave meetings."

"Well," Chris continued, "the thing is we were betrayed again, like Wesker did with us. The backstabbers killed the innocent teammates and, in a moment of absentmindedness, I was pulled into an armlock and I was injected with the virus. Jill managed to get me back, but I was technically dead for two weeks at least. Then, guess who helped Jill bring me back to consciousness?"

Claire put two and two together in less than a second. "He's still alive?" she asked, her voice a whisper of disbelief and shock. Chris, to his chagrin, nodded, and Claire's eyebrows shot up. "But that's impossible! You killed him, didn't you? You-you yourself told me!"

"Well, that's what I wanted to believe until I saw him again, and it was then when the thought and the hopes were shattered to miserable pieces. He was brought back after the incident and since then, he's been around. To my surprise, he did do something that helped me recover, but we still can't look at each other without being at the other's throat, whether it is physically or verbally, no matter. That's... one of the factors that's affecting me; it's not just the side-effects, Claire."

Chris noticed how the rage had disappeared from his sister's eyes and had been replaced by concern and pity, and Claire was looking at him in awe. She lowered her head and said, "I'm sorry, about everything: about that, about what just happened now, about-"

"Do you have that much to be sorry for?" Chris half-teased, half-scolded. "Things happen, and it's taken me a lot of time to accept that. You've seen more than anyone has; I can't keep things from you. I wouldn't forgive myself if I hurt you, and it's so difficult to tell you... Claire, I didn't even know if I'd be able to do this, if I'd consider myself still worthy enough to look at you once more; I was scared to death. We can be both understanding, but all behind a reasonable limit."

Aww, getting emotional now? The PAIN doesn't go away though, does it?

"I can't believe you thought that," Claire said, her voice thin. "You're the only family I have left; why would I push you away now?"

I didn't take things for granted.

That might be, but just you wait. It'll get REVERSED.

In the end, Chris could do nothing but give a light smile. As if on cue, Claire pulled herself next to him, this time a bit more slowly and with more care, more warmth coming from her. He enveloped her with his arms, celebrating his victory, giving himself pats in the shoulder: even though the voice in his head could be right, he had won the battle this time and he'd won it by himself. Like it seemed, he still had some rationality left.

"I have good news too, Claire," he told her, gazing down at her bright eyes. Suddenly, he felt everything changing, like the bond between him and her was still strong, even stronger than before. Claire cocked an eyebrow, smirking.

"So you were saving them now, huh? Spit it out," she snapped, her tone playful, and Chris ruffled her long fringe. It reminded him of earlier times, times that hadn't been lost with the passing of years, and Claire seemed to think the same as him.

"Aside from that I still think you tough," Chris started, teasing, "I have someone I'd like you to see. An old time friend, so it's said. Come with me."

With that, the siblings left the room and Chris headed towards Sherry's office, not letting the surprise slip from his mouth. Along the way, they didn't find her but Jill, who stared at Claire for a few seconds before nearing them and greeting the younger Redfield with a warm embrace. Chris knew Claire, since the time she'd met Jill a few years ago, had considered her like another sister. Though they had had their disputes and arguments sometimes, they still got along well, and Chris was still in the middle to make matters... better?

"It's good to see you're doing fine, Claire," Jill said, smiling widely. Even though the moment was supposed to be a good one, once Chris caught sight of Jill, his suspicions had risen again. This time, he took a long and silent moment to examine her while she and Claire talked, trying hard not to make any gestures that gave away his thoughts.

I'm getting paranoid...

No, you're not. Take a better look at your lover.

For some reason, Chris found no other way to find out more than listening to himself (if that was the case), and the scent he then recognized set his nerves on fire, making a burst of adrenaline set all his senses to their maximum. It was his scent, Wesker's; he would recognize it anywhere. To make matters worse, Jill reeked of it, more than any other time. All of a sudden, Chris felt like a predator examining its prey... because Jill would soon be his, the prey of his questions. There was no escaping it now; he'd know what was going on.

"You're taking her to see her?" Jill asked Chris, at last snapping him out of his thoughts. There was no transition between absentmindedness and awareness; it was instant.

Chris nodded, forcing a smile as Claire looked from one to another.

"Yeah, it's time she knew who we're talking about," he replied, "and she'll like it. Jill, think I can talk to you later?"

Jill's reaction was expected. Despite she was very good at hiding when she had been surprised, this time it hadn't gone unnoticed; at least, not unnoticed for Chris. He also kept calm but, inside, he was telling himself not to snap at her, to keep a cool demeanour, to not tell her about it now. No matter how much she wanted to hide it, Jill had a secret she was keeping from him, a secret involving Wesker, to make matters worse. Chris would find out about that and not just for Jill's sake, but for his own.

Getting a bit egoistical, huh? That's good, GREED is never bad once in a while.

If that bastard has got something to do with her, he's not getting out of this alive.

"Okay, sure," Jill said at last. Chris could sense her hesitation; it was like her perfume. It was unnoticed to the naked eye, but not if one had Chris' senses. In the end, not wanting to stir up more tension, Chris nodded and left with Claire following close. For a moment, he couldn't discern which emotion had seized hold of him: either it was rage, either it was alarm or distrust, but it felt odd.

"Chris?" Claire called, and he stopped to look at her. Again, that intense concern was present in her eyes, and she was also still a bit fearful; of that, there was no doubt. "Is there something wrong?"

"I'm just thinking, that's all," Chris replied, shaking his head and giving her a reassuring nod. He hoped it had worked; Claire could read him like an open book. It indeed worked: Claire didn't push any further. "Come on."

"This should have been connected here," said a voice in front of them. Chris noticed it was Sherry, with her back to them, talking with someone else, and knew Claire was already getting curious. "Well, fine, can you fix it?" The person who was with Sherry nodded and turned, entering the room to their right.

"Sherry, there's someone here to see you," Chris called, and Claire turned her gaze at him, then to the blonde in front of them. Sherry turned around, and both his sister and the Birkin remained staring at each other, wide-eyed and shocked. The meeting unfolded like Chris had expected but he did not stay to watch.

He had someone else to meet.

xx

"Sh-Sherry?" Claire stammered, feeling how a smile spread across her features. She knew Sherry was still alive, but seeing her in person was much better than having heard her voice through the phone. She hadn't expected she would be there, and it appeared her long-time friend thought the same. Claire saw Sherry like the girl she had met in Raccoon City and she knew she still was, strong and kind, but there was apparently someone else standing in front of her.

"Oh God, Claire!" Sherry exclaimed at last, approaching her with a beaming smile. Without hesitation, Claire pulled her into a strong embrace and felt Sherry's to be the strongest. "Oh, it's so good to see you're okay!" she said, her voice full of joy, but then Sherry withdrew, her face one of alarm. "Damn, I forgot about the bandages! Sorry, sorry!"

Claire couldn't stifle a laugh. "It's fine, don't worry," she replied, dismissing her apologies. Sherry seemed to calm down, smiling once again.

Claire took a look at her friend, examining her with care. She had only had a glimpse at her father, that fateful day in Raccoon, and another one at the photograph Sherry had shown her before parting ways, and she could tell Sherry bore some resemblance to him, especially in her eyes and hairstyle. Her gaze, still that lively blue, had her parents' gleam in it; when Claire thought about Annette, Sherry could've been mistaken for her if someone had just seen their gazes. There was something else that had surprised Claire: Sherry hadn't let her hair grow. Instead, it was short, even shorter than Annette's the last time she had seen her, and what gave her some resemblance to William were the long bangs falling upon her forehead: like father, like son.

Or more daughter, in this case.

"I'm glad to see you're fine; I just missed you so much," Sherry said, and by the smile she flashed at her, Claire had a small flashback to when she, Leon and Sherry had escaped the laboratory and Claire had witnessed the young girl cry, having been there as her shoulder to lean on.

It felt odd to see her smile, since Sherry herself had said that her life hadn't been too full of happiness, but it also made Claire be at ease: times changed, and so did people.

"I've been wondering where you were all this time. We didn't keep in touch after Raccoon City," replied Claire, making slight emphasis on the name, and Sherry shrugged, sighing.

"Things changed, and so did I, as you can see."

"Mind telling me what happened?" Claire asked, keeping a tinge of humour in her voice. Even though she was old enough to had let everything go, Claire was also hesitant to touch the subject, and someone as young as Sherry could still be sensitive to it. In spite of that assumption, Sherry nodded and started walking in the opposite direction. Claire followed as she talked.

"You might not like it but since you asked, I have no choice but to tell."

"If there's something you don't want to say, I understand," Claire hurried to add, raising her hands in defense. Sherry chuckled.

"What I don't want to say is the most important thing, so it has to be said," Sherry replied, shrugging once more. "After Leon left me to be taken care of by the government, I was 'rescued' by an old... family friend, if I can say that, who took me in under his care. His reasons why are still unknown to me."

Claire couldn't help frowning.

I think I know who that family friend is. Wesker, you'd better have not done anything to her.

"Since I wanted to pursue the same career as my family," Sherry continued, unaware of Claire's thoughts, "I learnt from him and learnt on my own. I was sent to Harvard University six years ago and here I am, CEO of my own pharmaceutical company. Don't worry, we're not planning anything like Tricell or Umbrella; we're an honest company, though we've been keeping a close eye on Tricell all this time."

"Looks like there wasn't much trouble in your life, was it?" Claire inquired, good-natured.

"Not much, unless you consider spending days alone trouble," Sherry replied, smiling. "You know I'm used to being alone, so studying and living on my own wasn't much of a problem. Though I received sporadic visits from him, I carried on."

Claire measured her next words with a teaspoon, afraid she'd mess up. "Was that 'him'... Wesker?"

Sherry didn't reply immediately but nodded at last, crestfallen. "It was him, yes. Think I've turned evil?" she teased with an undertone Claire couldn't interpret the right way. Sherry smirked. "Nothing like that has happened, you can be at ease. I'm still myself, even though he was a major influence in my life. I still have a debt to pay."

"It kinda shocks me to know that, and I'm sure you know why," Claire remarked, lowering her head and frowning.

"I knew it would. Makes you wonder how someone like him could take someone like me under his wing and kept me alive without harming me, right?" Sherry asked, nodding in understanding. "We're at my office now, come on."

Claire followed Sherry inside the room she gestured at her to enter in, and Claire found herself in a medium-sized study, lightened up only by small lamps that Sherry soon flicked on. The right wall was naked save for some shelves with books and some charms hanging from one of the ends of a shelf. To the left, there were numerous bookcases filled to the top with large volumes and other kind of books, and Claire wondered if Sherry had read them all or they were just there for fun. In front of her there was a desk, with a reading light, many folders and files piled up in one corner and some other sheets of paper scattered across the surface of the desk. Someone was busy, eh?

"This is like my own personal world when I lock myself up in here," Sherry said, breaking the silence. "It's the safest in the complex, at least for me." Claire kept silent, still frowning. "Claire, don't ask me to explain why because I can't. I know that it's left you upset and uneasy, but we both have different points of view."

"I know that," Claire shot back, "and I'm trying to get myself into your shoes, but I find it impossible. Not when Wesker has done so much to us, to everyone. What if he's just using you? All would've been a mistake if that were the case."

"I would've known that a long time ago, I can assure you," Sherry said, not snappy. "I haven't been with him much, but I see him in a different light. You can't ask me to be in your place because I can't be in it. Whilst I've suffered my own tragedies, and you have too, mine weren't caused by him and not by my father either. You can't always have a black and white vision of the world forever."

"And that was something Wesker taught you, right?" Claire inquired, looking straight at her. To her surprise, Sherry shook her head.

"No, it was something I learnt by myself," she admitted. "Imagine remaining resentful towards your family your whole life even though you know the reasons about why to be. I had to realize that a long time ago. I understand why you say that though, since you don't know what I know, after all."

"What's that?"

"Something my father left me to carry, a burden I can just tell him, only him," Sherry replied, not opening the book. Claire was starting to feel frustrated: if Sherry had said she couldn't have a black and white vision forever, then why was she hiding what could possibly make her understand? "I'm sorry if it frustrates you, but that's how things are."

Claire looked away, scowling. Sherry had evolved so differently to how she expected over the years, but that wasn't surprising, not when she had spent almost her whole life with Wesker. There was no room for expectations now, but there was no avoiding feeling uneasy and inevitably frustrated. Now she knew why Chris had been so affected; one way or the other, it would affect them both, that wasn't something strange.

"Who brought him back?" Claire asked after a long, uncomfortable silence. The air grew heavier with tension when Sherry kept silent. "Sherry, who did that? I have to know."

"Thing is if you want, not if you have to," Sherry said, avoiding the question. Claire lifted her eyes at Sherry, locking gazes with her, and saw serenity and conviction in her hues. Conviction? Why? "Chris already knows, and you must've seen by now that he hasn't taken it too well."

"Who brought him back and why, then?" Claire repeated, rephrasing the question with a sharp undertone.

"I did."

Claire's heart sunk to her boots. In disbelief, she stared at Sherry, wide-eyed, and felt without enough strength to keep standing. Sherry wasn't fazed by her reaction and kept serious, determined, confident in her answer.

"I... I can't believe it. You... you did that?" Claire exclaimed, anger taking hold of her. Now she knew why her brother's efforts had been in vain! "Why? Why did you do it? Was it compassion? Obligation?"

"A debt I had to repay. And besides, he's not the kind of person you think he is," replied the Birkin, and Claire was inevitably reminded of her own words at Rockfort.

"My brother's not the kind of person you think he is!"

Narrowing her eyes, she stared at Sherry, and said, "And you really think he's changed, don't you?" When she asked the question, Claire saw Sherry clenching her fists, her jaw setting. "Do you really think that just because you saved him, he's changed?" Claire kept her voice steady, and saw her companion becoming angrier by the second.

"Why do you always think you know people just by how they act with you?" she exclaimed, enraged, and Claire was surprised to see how much her voice had quivered there: was she really being serious? "If it hadn't been for him, I would've already turned into a guinea pig, an experiment, a weapon! That's all the world wants to use these things for!"

"And what about him, huh?" Claire shot back, sweeping the air in front of her with her arm. "What about all he planned to do? What about the plans Chris stopped him from carrying out? Wasn't he just like the world in itself?"

Where was that argument going? Claire had just met up with Sherry and they were arguing already? But there was no reason to leave the past aside, especially not after all those years without hearing from each other. Claire knew about how close Wesker and the Birkins had been; was it all because of an obligation? Or was it really because of personal matters, feelings? Had Sherry adopted Wesker's mindset out of obligation or out of her own choice?

"At least he was going to do it for a good cause! Call me naïve if you want, but what about all of this? All this you call our home? It's being destroyed, slowly but surely, and I'm sure it'd be better off with some people that shouldn't have been in it!" Sherry exclaimed, her eyes narrowing. "I know why he was going to do it, I know his reasons! And I know it wasn't out of selfishness or self-righteousness because, like it or not, we all are self-righteous in our way. We've all known pain too, but his has been greater than any other person's. 'Don't do onto others what they haven't done onto you', so it goes, but this is different. It has always been different."

Claire was slightly taken aback by the frankness and the emotion in Sherry's voice. Sherry herself had said that she hadn't been with Wesker for very long; if that was the case, how come she knew so much about him, more than anyone? The blonde girl fixed her with an intense, fierce gaze.

"Call him insane, call me insane if you want, but that's how life goes. I remember that, before we parted ways, you told me about your family and I told you about mine. You said you had lost your parents in a car accident, right? And I lost mine to the city's disaster... but he lost them to time, to his own mind," said Sherry, visibly struggling to keep her voice steady. Claire couldn't avoid a gasp, lifting her eyebrows.

"Ho-how do you know so much?" she inquired, her voice thin. Chris had known Wesker his entire life, had seen all he was made of, and not even her brother knew so much about him! Claire had, without a doubt, followed her brother's example, but was a real change of mind coming?

"Because it's the only thing I inherited from my father, the only thing I knew I had been made responsible for," Sherry replied, lowering her head. "I'm not saying anything else; it's something I'm keeping to myself."

Claire examined her friend with care, taking in how sorrowful and depressed she seemed. Exhaustion was visible across her features, noticeable in her gaze and in her stance, and she could also see the many scars that hadn't healed by taking a mere look into her eyes. It was true: everyone she knew had known pain. Herself, Leon, Sherry, Chris... everyone in the world but, for some reason, she suspected Sherry's wounds were far more severe than even her own.

Claire felt doubts assailing her mind. How to think of Sherry now? Of course, she couldn't push her away after so long, but there was also something about her that had gotten to her. She had changed, that of course too was meant to happen, but she suddenly went to compare both of her situations. Whilst Claire and Chris, even though having lost their parents when they were very young, had received their love and care, it had been very different with Sherry. With that in mind, there was no way Claire could ask her to see things in a different light! Not even try to ask her, because it would be futile. Sherry was too different from Claire and not only when it came to being different people, but their pasts were worlds apart, worlds literally apart.

"Sometimes, I don't even know what to think myself," she heard Sherry whisper, and she snapped out of her thoughts. "Sometimes I think that there might be another way to see things but I can't figure it out; I can't figure out how to have another point of view. It seems there's nothing I can do."

Claire thought her answer carefully, not wanting to make things worse than they already were. "Then don't try," she said at last, making Sherry snap her head up at her in disbelief. "We're too different, even though we have aspects that are alike; we're both from different times, so to speak. You've known your concept of pain, of happiness, of sadness and joy; I've known mine. When you said I couldn't ask you to be in my place because you couldn't be, I didn't know the answer to that. Or maybe I did, only that I didn't see it. Now I know why you said so."

"Claire, I'm not... I'm not trying to make you change, it's just that-" Sherry started, but Claire made her fall silent with a gesture of her hand.

"You can't betray him, right?" Claire said; it was not a question, but a statement. When she moved her eyes to Sherry, she saw the girl had frowned in concern, as if fearing Claire's reaction to her answer.

We're always afraid of the answer, not the question in itself.

"Claire, he-he saved my life! I wouldn't even be here if it hadn't been for him! He gave me a life!" Sherry insisted, getting closer to her. "But... but I also have to thank you; I'm still in debt with you, and now I feel unable to pay it back."

"There's one you can do to pay the debt back, Sherry," Claire said slowly, "and that is helping my brother. You know what happened to him, correct?"

"I do. I took care of him for the most time, but his current state is the result of a fight he fought on his own; I didn't help him on that," Sherry replied, and Claire frowned.

"Then it's time you help him, that we both help him," she stated, determined. "He fears losing himself and rightfully so, but I want to make him see that the anguish is not worth it. Sherry, it's not just because of the debt you still have, it's also because it's a request from me. Please, I'm not sure if I can do it alone; you've seen how Chris is."

Claire knew the statement had taken Sherry off guard.

"You-you're willing to-" Sherry stammered, and Claire saw her chance to intervene.

"I'm willing to, yes. There's nothing absolute in this world, only relative things and aspects. I've always trusted you, Sherry, and I think that knowing your family, I would've seen something different in them. Judging by how you act, I expected you to tell me what you just did. If there's... another way to see things, I'm going to see them like that, or at least I'll try."

Sherry hesitated clearly, staring at Claire with wide and bleary eyes, and she flashed her a light smile. An embrace came next, one through which Claire experienced all the pain Sherry was going through; she was hurting, and badly. It was all too intense, only to be worsened when Sherry seemingly couldn't hold back a sob. They stayed in silence for a short while, Claire trying to console the young woman as well as she could, and said,

"I didn't know your father, but I'm sure he would've been proud."

"I sometimes wish things had gone down a different lane, though there's no changing it now. It happened, and that's it," said Sherry, sighing. "We didn't have what you would exactly call a happy life, but it was enough, and I miss him."

Claire felt a pinch of concern in her gut at the tinges of wistfulness in Sherry's voice. "I don't know about the first one, but I know about the second."

Sherry exhaled in a way that told Claire she had smiled. Her next words seemed to strengthen their bond.

"At least I'm not alone... not anymore."

xx

There were no reasons for him to believe that he was going insane, but Chris had the unmistakeable feeling that he indeed was insane. Something akin to paranoia hadn't left him alone since the moment he'd seen Wesker again for the first time, and it was getting worse with each second that went by. His mind felt heavy with thoughts and assumptions that didn't seem to make sense but eventually would make it, heavy with sensations he didn't know how to classify, heavy with the words he'd been hearing for quite some time. They were words of hatred, loathing, fear and envy; of mistrust, revenge and resent, words that kept echoing inside his mind. Chris had tried to get rid of everything many times, one after another, but still no avail: it was all in vain.

Fragile, weak, alone, distrusted, resented and I could keep going. Doesn't it get to you?

"Just... just leave me be."

Chris rested his forehead on his knees, hiding his face from view, trying to calm his rushed and uncontrollable breathing. He felt unstable, his hands gripping his head in an attempt to silence that annoying voice. Instability: what he feared to feel. Fragile, weak, alone, distrusted, resen-

NO! I can't think that, I-

You stupid, INSANE idiot! Can't you just realize that what you want is to be held close to someone? You can't stand to be ALONE, can't you? You can't stand to see all those who are close to you drift away with you being unable to do anything! Snap out of it and get used to being alone!

"It's because of you that I'm alone," Chris replied out loud, not caring about being heard, not caring about anything. "I'm changing, even the others don't see me as myself, and it's all because of your influence."

Chris could hear a soft, cold laugh in his ears, could feel someone slinging an arm around his shoulders in a comforting gesture of coldness and mockery.

My influence? So now you think I'm real and not a figment of your twisted imagination? You flatter me; my presence is finally acknowledged.

"A figment of my imagination?" Chris snapped, springing to his feet and looking around. Claire's words about split personality came to his mind and realized what was going on, though he refused to believe it was happening. "That's what you are, a figment of it! You're nothing more than-"

Than WHAT, Christopher? I'm nothing more than what?

Chris desperately searched for someone to look at, for someone that seemed like the incarnation of that voice so that he could look at him and shout.

He found that incarnation: his reflection on the mirror.

Chris could do nothing more than stare at his reflection with wide eyes, knees shaking and threatening to give under him and make him collapse. Now he knew he was insane: seeing how a different himself was mirrored in front of him, another one of his 'I', another ego. That ego, that 'I', was propped against the wall behind the real Chris, a wide grin plastered across its features and eyes glistening with disdain and amusement, wicked amusement.

Can't recognize me? I'm hurt.

Paralyzed, Chris felt how his gut literally clenched and left him breathless as he stared in utter horror at the reflection that menaced to steal his self, all that he felt he was. "Who-who are you?" he brought himself to ask, working only with reverse psychology. The rational part of his mind told him to step away from the danger his reflection posed but the direction in which he took the step was forward, macabre curiousness replacing his terror and apprehension.

His other self flashed him a scornful smile. I'd tell you to search within yourself and find out, though I've just said that right now. If you want me to go to the point, I'm all you avoid to be. I'm also a conscious entity within your mind; if not, why would I be calling myself 'I'?

Chris felt sick, disbelief and disgust heavy on his stomach, but he had to hold back a cough to avoid throwing up. He shook his head. "This is not happening... I'm hallucinating... No, you're not real!"

Oh no, you're not hallucinating. Think yourself under the influence of the substance flowing through your veins that's now part of your system, but you'll be dreadfully wrong. Moreover, you just proved my point: I am real. You've given me personality and identity, though I don't want to be you.

At last, Chris fell to his knees, shaking almost to the point of convulsing. He felt cold, cold as if dead, couldn't bring himself to calm down. His breathing came out irregularly, also shaky, his eyes stung with tears and his whole body was gradually becoming drenched in sweat. Insanity took the best of him, making him cry all the tears he hadn't shed in his life.

I know what you're going to do: you're going to wish I wasn't here, you're going to wish that it was all back to normal, that nothing had happened. You'll shout at me, you'll reject me, you'll try to banish me from your mind but you will fail. I am those tears you're shedding now, I am that anger you're holding back, I am that desire to kill that burns within you but has never been unleashed. You can't hold yourself back any longer, can you?

"I'm not like you say I am; I'm different."

Please... you're so FUCKING simple-minded that you just can't see it. Do you think there's only good and bad within people? That there's only one of those two within us? You yourself are the evidence that that doesn't and will never happen, Chris. You think yourself honest, an example, but there's turmoil and insecurity within you. You can't hide that no matter what, you just CAN'T sweep it under the fucking rug!

"DON'T SAY ANYTHING ELSE! YOU'RE NOT REAL!"

More tears came, showing whoever was with him how broken and shaken Chris was. In despair and pain, he no longer silenced his sobs.

I KNEW IT! I knew you'd do this, why didn't you do it before? You're blind, that's why. You think you know yourself but you just CAN'T grasp the concept of your miserable existence! Your existence isn't yours, in fact; you're reversing roles with your worst enemy!

"SHUT UP! Don't you DARE speak about him!" Chris bellowed. Direction-less, he spun around, trying to locate the source of his other self's voice. With renewed anger, Chris dried his eyes and looked everywhere, never to find that self of his, but kept hearing his strong, unrelenting voice.

He's a clear example of all you are! Even though you're complete opposites, that's what makes you alike! Or do you think he didn't go through this? You just can't keep up with him, can you? You made your choice: you wanted to try and see if there was something different within him, but you're unable to figure it out. Why? Because you're blind. You think you know everything about him but in reality, you don't. Ask Jill; I'm sure she's got more experience than you.

"She's getting tricked by him, that's obvious!" Chris shot back with anger, but then that anger was replaced by a shocking realization that made him fall silent, choking on his words and almost gagging. "You're not- you're not saying she..."

His other self laughed once more, this time harder and louder. We're getting somewhere, aren't we?

"No... that's impossible! She wouldn't!"

Didn't she say it wasn't as bad as she thought it would've been? Looks like you didn't detect the undertone in that, eh?

"There was NO undertone in that sentence! She was telling the truth!"

"Chris? Chris, can I come in?"

Chris' heart skipped more than two beats as he pivoted around, his wide gaze fixed upon the door in disbelief. Jill couldn't be outside his room, she COULDN'T! The dreadful amount of saliva in his mouth told him he'd throw up in panic at any moment, but nothing happened. An emotion he hadn't become used to seized him, rendering him unable to speak: fear.

She's here, she's here! Whatever shall you do? Christopher, you had already smelled it, you knew something was cooking.

His other self's voice suddenly became soothing, tempting, enticing. The voice spoke right beside his ear, its cold breath stroking it and sending chills down Chris' spine.

You're going to examine her, you're going to see that she's betrayed you. They were suspicions you didn't want to accept but were unbelievably true. Now you have to feel what envy and jealousy feel like. With your words you will hurt her feelings, but you will feel much better; that I can assure you. Listen to me: you'll do the right thing.

"What if it doesn't work?"

What am I doing? Am I actually LISTENING to him?

If it doesn't work, you will KILL her. I'm sure you'll do it; you didn't have any difficulties feeling the eagerness to do so.

"I can't kill her, I can't..."

Because you love her? How can you love her if all she gives you are wounds and pain?

"Am I not the same to her?" Chris asked, lowering his head. How could he be discussing his feelings with an entity that considered itself real? No, that he himself considered real, to be present within his mind?

You're learning that love has two meanings: to love someone and to want someone. Which did you choose since the very beginning?

Now, rationality kicked in, insanity was his guide and his own voice was his mentor.

He had to listen.

A/N: Alright, let me explain: during Chris' conversation with Claire, I did hint at his split personality; also, that voice he heard was nothing more than who you've found out if was: another conscious entity which will find its name later on. Whilst I want to take a bit of a supernatural focus towards this, this split personality matter is one of the side effects of Uroboros: it's making Chris hallucinate. And it's all worse with him not wanting to take the PG doses, so he's -to be blunt- really screwed.

Concerning other characters, they will have their appearance before the story ends (characters such as Marco, Freya, Vithar, surprise characters... you name it!) so they will have a place in the sequel (if I ever get to write it). Don't fret; this is going fine.

Reviews are appreciated!^^