AN: There are no words. I, dear readers am appalled at how long it has taken me to upload this, APALLED. Please don't hate me…hate real life, and seriously, now I get why it takes people so long, hell I'm still in high school, but the college kids? Hell.

Anywho, in order to prevent such atrocities from happening again, I have posted this chapter, with another one in the works. Yay for backup!

Anyway, here's Chapter 7! Whoo! I can't believe I'm here already! Seems like just yesterday, I posted up the Prologue…not something months ago…

Disclaimer: If this were a parallel universe, Wesker would be a new god and I would own Resident Evil and its characters. But nooo, it's the old regular universe, so none of it is mine…dang it.

Chapter Seven:

Almost There

"So…" Chris put down his cup of coffee on the floor next to him. Shortly after Ted had left, the brunette had slid down to the floor and had eaten most of his breakfast that way, oblivious to or just ignoring the scathing look that the blonde man had given him.

After another long silent moment, the brunette tried again. "So…" And taking a cue from a prison show or movie, "How'd you end up here?"

Wesker ignored him and continued sipping his drink.

Chris raised an eyebrow. No need for him to guess what the silence met. How else were they going to catch the Tyrant than by taking him at his most vulnerable? Was he even conscious when they took him? Chris wondered.

"It's not your fault," Chris finally tried, wincing at how stupid he was sure to sound right about now. "You fell in a volcano….and got RPG'd."

Wesker finally turned his bored looking face to his former subordinate, the amusement at the attempts to 'cheer him up' masked by the dark sunglasses.

"I do not want to talk about it." The Tyrant said coolly and saw a glimmer of defiance in the younger man's eyes. It was partly for that reason that he gave such a response, to see some life return to the former marksman's face, the fire and energy that had attracted Wesker to Chris in the first place.

That, and…well, it had been a while since he had someone to torture.

"I'll tell you if you tell me." Chris offered and Wesker rolled his eyes, though of course no one would see.

"And just why do you believe I'd be interested in your trip here, Christopher?" Wesker drawled, setting his empty plate and cup on the trolley that Ted had left behind.

Chris shrugged, his expression quickly becoming downcast. "Yeah, makes sense." Chris stared down into his empty cup, as if it would provide some comfort at the moment and Wesker, before the blonde knew what he was doing, was sighing, and crossing the room to stand next to the sitting man. Seconds later, Wesker saw Chris stay very still as the Tyrant slid down to sit next to him.

Wesker didn't like the way Chris had given in so easily, had quieted do quickly at what was once a normal comment, not even an overly biting one, which bothered him for some inexplicable reason…perhaps not so inexplicable if Wesker were to truly think about it.

Someone had broken Chris Redfield, something had happened to him since the last time they had fought to now.

All Wesker knew that it wasn't him who had done the honors, and it bothered him. And made him smoulder with the desire to hunt down the person who had broken his favorite toy. Only he had the right to touch what was his…

Chris is mine. The thought made Wesker glance over at the suddenly to quiet man and the blonde sighed.

"We both know that the only reason why you end up in these types of situations is because of your damned Redfield heroism, Chris." Wesker said, breaking the silence. "It was either that or your stupidity, though admittedly more often that not, it is a combination of both." At the tinge of red on the brunette's ear tips the blonde smirked.

"What I would like to know however," Wesker added, "Is how you spent the last couple of months after our last…meeting. I have heard that you no longer work for the BSAA."

Chris' head snapped up to stare at his ex-captain. "Where'd you hear that?" he demanded, sounding shocked and Wesker shook his head, a mocking smile on his lips.

"You don't truly expect an answer to that, do you Chris?"

The brunette shook his head, muttering 'bastard' under his breath.

"So you do not deny it?" Wesker pressed.

"Why would I?" Chris mumbled, placing his arms around his drawn up legs, crumpling in on himself, a curious move, to Wesker.

"It's not like you're ever wrong, anyway."

At that Wesker tilted his head to the side, wondering just what the former Alpha marksman was thinking. Now and then, even he would be surprised on occasion by Chris' thinking, on the times it was deep and analytical, too mature for his years.

"Captain." Chris' voice was concerned at how quiet the blonde had become that day, more so than usual.

"Yes, Chris?" Wesker's voice was only slightly tinged by weariness, and a blonde head rose from a pile of paperwork that was much higher than usual. "I'm busy, so kindly make it brief."

The brunette watched his captain's eyes flicker to a thick stack of forms just underneath his unfolded hands and shrugged.

"Need help?" He asked and couldn't help but grin at the wary look that now flashed across the older man's face.

"And why would you extend your help, Christopher?" the Alpha captain asked slowly, grey eyes (he had taken off his shades) hard and scanning the marksman for ulterior motives. "You are aware of the lack of monetary compensation."

It was a warning, in case Chris Redfield was that big of an idiot, because sometimes-even Wesker wondered…

Chris shrugged again, a grin easily falling into place on his ruggedly handsome face. A young face, a lively face that held no shadows, unlike the countless wraiths at Umbrella. "Why not, Captain? It's a nice day and paper is paper."

"I don't quite follow, Redfield."

The brunette chuckled. "You look as if those forms were serial killers or contaminated with something. Maybe if I helped out a little, they'd go back to just being paper again."

Wesker raised a pale eyebrow. "I…see."

Chris smiled, and something in his bright blue eyes made Wesker pay closer attention, to the sudden drop in depth those eyes took.

"I'd take paper over serial killers any day," Chris said, surprising the older man. "I mean, I love the action, don't get me wrong, and I'll never be some paper pusher, but…" he looked away, down the hall to the warm voices of other employees within the police department as they went about their daily routine. "Sometimes…it's better. When the worst thing in a day is a mountain of papers and not some sick psychopath that's out killing innocent people. It'll happen sooner or later, something big and bad will fall on our heads, but for now, this is the worst we've got, and hell, I'll take it."

Silence met his speech and the brunette flushed and returned his eyes to his captain.

"You are never to repeat this, Christopher, or I will destroy you," Wesker warned him and the markman nodded earnestly.

The blonde man sighed and looked down the same hall that Chris had and something in that gaze seemed almost wistful to the younger man.

"Sometimes…I too, am glad, that the worst thing, the most annoying thing in a workday is a mountain of paperwork and a dunderhead, not a mass murderer."

Chris' cheeks and ears took on an interesting red tinge and the blonde barely restrained the smirk at the younger man's embarrassed response.

"The worst has yet to come, Chris," Wesker said softly and Chris felt the importance, the heaviness of those words without exactly knowing why. "But for now, this is enough. It'll do."

It was one of the first times, the few times that they had ever agreed on something. And it was one of the few things that connected them, a preference for some peace now and then, at least before the shit really hit the fan.

"How did you even survive?" Chris asked, his voice distant as if he to had relieved a memory. "There was so much…and I went back so many times…"

Wesker decided not to comment on that small piece of information and saved it for later for further analysis. Besides the younger man's obsession with being thorough, Wesker sensed another sort of reasoning behind Chris' search.

"Part of me still thinks this is some twisted dream and any second, I'll wake up, alone and facing 'normal civilian' life." Chris muttered and barked out a bitter laugh. "As if that ever worked."

"And why has it not?" Wesker asked, genuinely curious.

Chris turned to him, and the blonde saw the haunted expression in those once clear, bright eyes.

"This is all I know, Wesker," Chris said, his voice quiet, subdued. "This is all I have left, memories of hell from bioterrorism and the fucking undead, of STARS, of you. I'm supposed to sleep at night with some normal civilian at my side and pretend it never happened, that it never affected me?"

Wesker didn't say anything and Chris shrugged. "I'm not telling you anything until you spill something, Wesker." Chris said, voice firm. "I've got nothing to lose besides my life, and that's probably gonna go in a day or two."

"There's no need for the dramatics, Christopher," Wesker said with a weary sigh. "And I suppose I can indulge you as long as you return the favor."

At the single nod, Wesker leaned back on his section of the wall, shade covered eyes taking in the white ceiling and replacing it with the clear, sharp blue of Africa.

AN: Well there you go. Not too exciting, but not exactly a useless chapter either. I got to become one with the guys again, and you dear reader, know that I am still alive and so is this story.

So until next time, one week from now (in theory, crosses fingers) see ya! And a kind word, review, some sign from you guys will as always, be appreciated and loved. :)