Author's Note: Right, I finally bring a new update and this epilogue's gonna go into three parts, perhaps an extra if I get to write it. I'll divide it in Wesker's, Jill's and Chris' epilogues, then the final one with a surprise character if things go nicely and I can get to write again. I say this because of a certain situation that will be explained in my profile; if you'd so kindly visit it, you'll be informed. Now, let's see if you can get over how this update goes, because this overshadows a big deal that's gonna go on in the sequel, which WILL be written, God hold me witness. It'll take its time, but I hope I can get the first update by October. Enjoy the read!^^

Disclaimer: I do now own Resident Evil or any of its characters.

XXV:

Epilogue I: Out of control

The mirror shattered... "You won't serve us for any purpose at all!"…A look in the mirror was all he needed to know what he was made of... "Don't do this! He's just a child!"... He knew he could change, he knew he could feel... "Perhaps he'll do some good..."... The pieces fell at his feet, pieces of a broken mirror, a broken reflection... "Take me back! Where are my parents?"... Pain cometh, Death's red-cloaked emissary... "No room for mistakes! Learn that well, boy!"... Empathy's corruption is inevitable... "I didn't know you were that good. Anyway, I'm William, William Birkin."... Feeling is tantamount to dying... "You'll know with time..."... Emotions must be hidden...

Fear.

Hearing that word inside his mind was what made Wesker snap back to reality from a dark, empty slumber. His eyes quickly adjusted to the blackness of the room, his sense of hearing to the deafening silence that invaded it, and his ego to the harsh blow the dream had dealt. Was that all it had been? A dream? A sigh came to break the silence: weakness haunted him even in his dreams. Whether the reason was his acceptance of its existence or his attempts to ignore it and banish it, he didn't know. Once he thought of that, he noticed how well he had decided to accommodate himself, since his feet -and he was still with his footwear- were placed up on the small table in front of him, and how his body felt rested for the first time in weeks. Ironic; the least the position could've given him was a sore neck.

With that, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shrugged off his initial sleepiness with a light stretch of his body, hearing how his knee cracked as he did it. The injuries in his abdomen bothered him no more, and Wesker didn't know it it had been because of the passing of time or Sherry's medical skills combined with his willpower.

It had been two days since the event that had changed the course of their lives, two days since he'd coined a new meaning for pain. It frustrated him to see himself so vulnerable; what had driven him to warn everyone about Chris' incoming attack? He could've just kept quiet and pretend nothing was happening, leave the others to their our fate, but something had forced him to do that. Because of that, he had taken the damage; he had been the one whose weaknesses had been exposed, not the others. Now he had no arguments to defend himself with: it was crystal clear that he was once more vulnerable, once more...

Weak? He thought as he glanced at his hand. A bizarre thought flashed through his mind: how come that with that thin and seemingly fragile hand of his he had grasped power beyond limits, taken so much away, done so many things, all of them vile and cruel? Because in truth, the next thing that was fragile -aside from his eyes- were his hands: his fingers were long and thin, qualities tantamount to fragility, but they nevertheless had helped him take many things for himself. Of course, there always came a time when there was always so much one could take. Perhaps... the grasp on what he'd obtained was slipping.

Wesker dismissed the thought with a shake of his head and stood up, raking a hand through his hair. And like always, some of his locks remained untamed, framing his forehead. He lifted his head up to the mirror and stared at his reflection or what little bit he could see of it. With a sense of determination, he ran his fingers over his unprotected scars, making another mental note of why payback was inevitable. The newly-restored skin was smooth in spite of the initial feeling of roughness to it, fact which reminded him of when he'd first been impaled by the Tyrant. Such bitter memories... memories to which he smirked. It was all so far away now they were a mere laugh.

His mind drifted to the person that had inflicted the almost fatal wounds: Chris. Instinctively, his face curled up in a grimace of disdain and resent as an uncontrollable surge of rage flared up inside him, a surge that shook him to his very core. In the midst of all that rage was sorrow or something akin to it; there was also... despair, an emotion he hadn't felt in years. It all grew worse as seconds passed: nothing could make him calm down this time... nothing but his vivid and always-working imagination, which lead him to believe nothing but victory against Chris was in his way. Comforting thoughts, those could be, but still bizarre and unreal. And suddenly snapping out of his silent outburst, Wesker clasped his head with both hands and shrank, his eyes wide open in disbelief at the horrible flurry of emotions that was overcoming him.

"Just make it stop... It's not fair..."

Nothing's fair in this world.

"I'm losing it, I'm losing it... I can't allow that," Wesker uttered to himself, straightening and beginning to shake. "I-I can't control myself... Am I not myself anymore, despite all the times I've convinced myself that way?"

Wesker himself knew they were irrational questions, asked out of a despicable feeling of misery and despair and last, but not least, his own envy. Admitting it in front of Jill was a trivial part of what he truly harbored inside, as it tended to happen.

It's all piling up... I can't take it any longer... but I HAVE TO! I'm-

"I'm losing it... My grip on myself is slackening... No, no..."

Stop the irrational thoughts! Come to your senses! Take hold of the reins again! You've got control!

"You just have to pull harder."

As if it were an inflection, something Wesker was well aware of, his tone had changed: his voice was his old voice, the one tinged with malice, greed and coldness. A low chuckle came from his throat, a chuckle that transformed into a laugh full of humour and self-rejection.

"What are you doing? What am I doing, in any case? I knew emotions wouldn't work with me; why did I try to give in into them? I'm foolish, that's what I am, and that was always part of myself..."

Wesker smiled, sudden calm washing over him; the shakes were all gone, so were the irrational thoughts and other odd sensations.

"You know he's not responsible for his actions now!" He remembered Jill telling him this and that with the hope he'd reach a realization, a conclusion, but that moment hadn't and wouldn't come any time soon. His own moment had come to settle the scores.

That may be so, Jill, but as they all say...

"Payback's a bitch."

A/N: An epilogue short as *beep!* but anyway, let's keep it simple. I know epilogues can't be really long or really short, so this goes inbetween. I wouldn't like to go over 4,000 words with an epilogue, to be honest, so I want to keep it short. Bear with me, the next part will come as soon as humanly possible; I'm at my limit here.

Reviews are appreciated!^^