Chapter Text
Chris shakily scrolled through his contacts until he found the one nestled in between the others. He hesitated, then looked down where his fingers felt Leon’s pulse. He hit the name, licking his lips which felt gummy with blood and sweat while the dial tone played. It was only a moment until his desperate call was answered, though the contact stayed quiet. There was only the comforting hum of background noise to know he was there.
“Wesker, I uh. I need to call in a favor.” His voice was far steadier than he felt. There was a shuffle on the other end. “We- uh. There was...” Chris breathed heavily, peering around to make sure they were safe. “There was an ambush waiting for my team.”
“You are hurt.” Wesker’s voice finally answering him made his breathing hitch, and then he sighed shakily. He hadn't been used to hearing that voice in a long time.
“Yeah. I need help. Bad. My-my team- I don’t know if anyone else made it.” Chris’s voice cracked. His heart twisted in pain at the thought of a repeated tragedy, but he couldn’t dwell on it at the moment. It wasn’t safe.
“And yet you haven’t called medical services or backup from your alliance.” Albert’s voice was stern, he could imagine the slight knitting of his brows. “What aren’t you telling me?”
"The guys, the ones who ambushed us, they'd managed to get me and an ally of mine alone. They got a hold of us just long enough to inject us with something. We fought them off afterwards and managed to escape. Found a place to hide for the moment.” His voice was rough and sounded far too loud as it bounced off concrete. If someone found them now they were as good as captured.
“I see.” Wesker replied after a moment, voice soft and gravely serious. “And you called me first because your escape felt too easy. You suspect they either want to take you in alive or they want you to call your friends only to become a weapon against them? Or are you simply paranoid that your other resources won't be able to help you fast enough?”
Chris swallowed dryly. He wished for nothing more than calling the BSAA and letting them know the situation. Maybe they would be able to help him. He was a good enough pawn they might call in some experts to attempt to cure him before whatever this was got out of hand, or at least let him say goodbye to a few people first before (hopefully) finishing him off in such a way he wouldn’t rise again as some twisted abomination bent on destruction. He’d seen it too many times. But he wasn’t just looking out for himself, here.
Leon was unconscious on the dusty concrete floor in front of him, battered but mostly okay as far as Chris could tell. He wasn’t an expert, but he'd done more than enough first aid. Chris had been so thrilled earlier when he realized Leon was going to be working on the same job as him, meaning they could actually team up for the first time and talk in person for once. That was shortly before everything went to shit real fast. He had to take his chances, if it meant better odds for Leon’s survival. He didn't deserve this.
There was a sigh on the line, and Chris realized Wesker had been waiting for feedback.
“What were you hoping for when you called, Christopher?”
“I- I don’t know.” Chris rubbed his face. “That you’d be willing to help? Maybe you’d know how to cure us, or at least know how to put us down without anyone else getting hurt if all else fails.” Chris picked up quietly pacing the small space he was in, agitated and body humming with too much adrenaline to sit still.
“Your faith in me is astounding. You know I don’t really care if you were to destroy your entire agency single-handedly in a viral induced rage.” Wesker said coolly. Chris’s heart twisted. Why was he trusting this asshole, again? “Where are you?” He continued. Chris gave his location, wondering if he had really made the right call. He could have called anyone else. Rebecca would have been a good choice. She was very often busy, but surely she’d pick up eventually. “I’ll be there in fifteen to twenty minutes. Can you and your ally relocate to a nearby landmark?” Chris balked, heart jumping. Wesker was really that close?
“No, no he slipped into unconsciousness just before I called you. I can’t relocate without drawing attention.”
“Very well. Stay safe and out of sight, which I know can be difficult for you. Call you again when I’m close.” Albert instructed.
Chris followed orders for once. He kept guard, watching Leon, who twitched uneasily in his sleep but didn't rise. Why the hell did this have to happen? He hadn't been as alert as he should have been. By the time the gunfire started it was too late. That is how an ambush goes, he supposed. It didn't make him feel any better.
Distant shouts from outside neared the building they were in, alerting Chris long before the door was being thrown open. Chris withdrew him and Leon to a dark corner in between some shelves, guarding him and hoping he didn't make more sounds in his fitful unconscious state. His gun was ready for the second someone came too close. It was only after his room was briefly scanned and reported a negative that he dared breath. The people moved on. He didn’t check to see whose side they were on, he’d made his decision already.
Chris didn't budge until his phone vibrated. He carefully described, best as he could, where they were to Wesker. There was no backing out of his wild ass plan now.
When Wesker pulled up at breakneck speeds to the door to the warehouse he’d holed up in, he hauled ass with the blond agent slung over a broad shoulder. It was only when the tires were screeching on asphalt and they were heading outside of the town did something connect. The style of vehicle, the official and plain interior.
“Did you steal a BSAA truck?”
“I figured you needed it more. Besides, if your ambush-ees wanted to hurt your organization, they would want you picked up by BSAA agents.” Wesker explained coolly, then glanced up into the rear view mirror. His eyes were embers even behind his sunglasses. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks.” Chris responded, feeling tiredness start to well up as the adrenaline started to fade. Sneaking a glance at himself in the mirror, he had to agree with Wesker's assessment. He couldn’t sleep until he was sure they were out of danger, though. Minutes passed in silence.
“I was unaware Leon Kennedy was in this part of the country.” Chris could hear the silent question.
“I wasn't either before a couple of hours ago.”
“A trap for both of you, then? Or had they gotten lucky?”
“Maybe.” Chris sighed. He ached all over, now that he could pay attention to something other than not being caught. Even if that opened the door for terrifying thoughts about becoming a BOW.
They drove for much longer than twenty minutes through dense forests and back roads. Chris wasn’t blind to the fact it was suspicious Wesker was so close by, but it was far too late to second guess himself.
The bumpy roads were a siren call to sleep, but the fact Leon was starting to twitch and looking pained in his sleep kept him on edge. Chris allowed the agent to slump against him, supporting Leon and hoping it won't come back to bite him. Literally.
They pulled up to a small cabin nestled deep in the woods when Wesker finally switched the vehicle off.
“The door is unlocked, get Mr. Kennedy inside.”
“And you?” Chris asked, eyebrows furrowed. Wesker answered by popping open the trunk.
“I’m going to hope my groceries were not ruined in my haste to retrieve you.” Chris wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, having troubles imagining the man doing something so banal as grocery shopping, so he dragged Leon out of the car and hefted him over the shoulder once again. Leon mumbled threats at him, only mildly lucid.
It worried him more than he’d admit to seeing the capable agent who once stormed a castle full of parasite infected cultists to rescue the president's daughter in such a state. Chris wasn’t sure how he himself seemed so unaffected, though perhaps that wasn’t true. He could feel something wasn’t right. A pulsing ache in his arm, maybe. An itch taking root under his skin. He bit his lip and forced the thoughts down hard.
The door was indeed unlocked, but Wesker still got to it first with a heap of bags in his arms and still managed to twist the doorknob. Chris followed after, quickly locating the couch. Leon had started squirming in his hold and was quickly deposited on the cushions.
“You can help bring in groceries, Chris.”
“What about-?”
“Groceries first.” Wesker said firmly in a way that Chris couldn’t argue. There was a lot of groceries. He didn’t like leaving Leon alone for long, so he gathered as much as he could in one load and brought them inside, dumping them off to grab the rest of the bags. Depositing the rest in the kitchen for Wesker, Chris spied a comfy enough looking arm chair situated around the same coffee table as the couch. Perfect. He slumped into the chair, watching Leon and occasionally darting his eyes to the kitchen. Wesker started calmly putting away groceries while Chris watched with a knee bouncing. He was restless and exhausted with too many emotions to process at once. Wesker threw out several eggs that had broken from the journey.
“Now, I don’t want to kill you unless absolutely necessary, so the only other options on my plate are to either lock you both away and find a method of control-” Chris looked up in disgust at Wesker and the man walked into the living room with arms crossed. “-or undergoing the complicated process of making a vaccine.” Wesker finished, pausing. He seemed displeased by something. “Given that it hasn’t been long since you were both injected, we may have time for me to find something to help you. Do you consent for you and agent Kennedy to have your blood drawn for tests? I need to see what I am up against.”
“Consent? You just said you could lock us up and let us turn into monsters!” Chris hissed. He felt raw. There were too many feelings he couldn't deal with right now bubbling just below the surface. Wesker tilted his head, face softening minutely.
“Believe me, dearheart, it is not my first option. Should I fail in suppressing or curing you of your little virus, I would still loath to destroy you and that fiery spirit of yours.”
“Being your mindless, bloodthirsty pet wouldn’t be much better.” Chris snarled.
The blond inclined his head, perhaps conceding the point but probably not. He approached Leon, observing the other man. “It’s quite possible this is some experimental new strain they have bred. Something they thought would have the effects they wanted in you. Though Mr. Kennedy certainly seems to be more affected, currently.” Wesker started thinking aloud, perhaps for the BSAA agent’s benefit. Maybe just to be an egotistical prick, Chris thought. “Perhaps you simply have a tolerance by luck or something else had weakened his immune system. Either way, it means both of you have little chance of pulling through this. You are fortunate that it is only a rumor that I am even alive. Thanks to you of course, Chris.” Wesker turned to face the brunette again.
“Alright, alright. Fine. I suppose I did just entrust me and Leon to your care. That’s… this is not where I thought I would be this morning.” Chris blinked, suddenly very tired and the room was starting to spin around him. Fuck, he was going to have to explain this to Leon when he woke up. He wasn’t looking forward to it. They were friends, but surely that friendship had its limits. He clenched his fists, looking at the floor.
“I’ll get everything ready to take blood samples. Get Mr. Kennedy’s bullet proof vest off.” Chris went about undoing the clips, not even questioning where Albert was going to get his supplies. Honestly, if he knew anything about the man anymore, Wesker wasn’t going to be in hiding out anywhere without a secret lab. It was honestly uncanny.
Once Chris rolled Leon over and removed the vest he froze, thinking he saw movement under the tight shirt Leon wore. He stared a moment longer, but there was nothing more. Wesker picked a good time to return, setting a tray down on the coffee table alongside a first aid kit.
“Sit.” He commanded, and would have perhaps smirked seeing Chris obeying so well if the moment wasn’t so tense. “Where were you infected?” Chirs bared his arm for Wesker and uncomfortably accepted the needle into his vein.
“I think we were both injected in the neck.” He swallowed, remembering the struggle. Wesker hummed, labeling a tube to put the sample in and turned to Kennedy.
“Hold him still. I don’t want him reacting in his sleep.” Chris did as he asked and watched the syringe fill with Leon’s blood. Leon was twitching in his sleep, groaning. Wesker carefully labeled and put this vial away too, leaving the pair on the couch and armchair.
Chris was already starting to drift off even sitting upright in the armchair. Now that he was, somehow, someway, maybe, safe the exhaustion and grief of the day was bearing down on him at last. Wesker returned, saying nothing to the mostly asleep agent but put a blanket over him and his dirty blood stained clothes before doing the same for Leon.
Chris slipped into a deep but uneasy sleep.
—
Leon Kennedy woke up half lucid, confused, and in pain. His throat felt rough and his whole body ached. Something familiar was immediately thrust in his hand. A bottle.
“Drink this. Then start undressing. Your clothes are a mess and I need to give you a check up.” A cool voice commanded, and Leon groaned as he struggled to any state of wakefulness.
Leon looked up at the figure holding out the bottle, seeing an austere looking blond with wide shoulders and sunglasses. Sunglasses. Inside a dimly lit house. He was in a plain looking living room with a blond that couldn’t be real and alive. This had to be someone else who happened to fit the description of him to a T. Wesker was dead, he shouldn’t be standing in front of him with an impatient look on his face.
He reacted before he even knew what he was doing. Rolling off of the couch to Wesker's side and into fighting position Leon took a swing at the blond for lack of a knife at hand. Wesker grabbed his fist with a free hand and a hint of a snarl. Leon swept one leg into Wesker's knee, unbalancing him for just a moment so Leon could rip his hand free. Taking advantage of Wesker's occupied hand he next pulled a faint and scored a solid punch to the blond's jaw.
Sunglasses bounced and toppled to the floor with a clatter. Wesker's eyes connected with his, amber glow intensifying. Leon had a feeling he'd messed up somehow. Nothing more could be added to that thought though because he was being grappled by the neck. The room spun as he found himself being shoved back down on the couch by the very annoyed ex umbrella scientist.
" Don't test my patience Kennedy. You are here because Redfield asked for my help. I could just as easily do this the hard way or not at all." He hissed through his teeth. Just like that, Wesker stood and swiftly reacquired his glasses. Leon blinked to clear his swimming vision. A shuffling across the room caught his attention and he finally noticed Chris unconscious in the armchair looking unrestrained and mostly unharmed. Leon took a deep, steadying breath. His neck was sore, but he'd live.
"Chris…"
“Asleep. Glad to see you are vocal. Chris will have his own immune booster and mutagen inhibitor when I wake him.” The man explained, thrusting again the bottle into Leon's hand. Leon put the lid to his mouth and then just about spat it up if it weren’t for a hand clamping over his mouth.
“Don’t go wasting it, Kennedy. Your body needs every drop of this if you even stand a chance. You started undergoing mutation more rapidly than Christopher, but by my estimate we’ll start seeing more changes in him soon." Wesker explained, sliding a first aid kit across the coffee table over to them. Leon made a face but got over the taste of whatever the cool goop was and swallowed, breathing shakily. His whole body ached in places he wasn't even sure were possible. Wesker watched him carefully, then held out a gloved hand.
"I don't think we've ever properly met. Albert Wesker." Leon stared at the offending hand like it was a deadly snake.
"Leon Kennedy." He eventually returned, but didn’t take the offered hand. Wesker just smirked and put his hand back down.
"With that out of the way, I believe it is time to get you out of those filthy clothes. I have supplied you with a clean change, though I imagine they will be rather ill-fitting.”
Leon did not want to undress in any capacity in front of this man. Wesker gave him space, checking on Chris instead. His vest and ammo bags were already on the floor it seemed, which made it easier to peel the dirty ragged clothes from his body. At least, until he was hit a snag. Literally. It was then that Albert stepped in and helped guide his tattered shirt off of him, grabbing onto limbs Leon didn’t recognize but twitched with newfound muscles.
“W-what the hell?”Leon asked, half out of habit. He wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to know.
“Stunning. They must have emerged with rapid growth in only the last half an hour, laterally symmetrical…” Wesker stopped his praise, perhaps seeing the discomfort this was causing Leon by the way the things on his back twitched. “At any rate, the concoction I gave you should slow it down.” He added. Leon self consciously stood there and let Wesker take whatever notes he was jotting down on a little piece of paper while occasionally poking and prodding Leon for details such as body temperature and pulse. He nodded to himself.
Leon felt gross and unsteady by the time he was done. It was taking him effort to hold his ground. What in the ever living fuck was going on? Him and Chris were… were infected and now they were playing doctor-patient with an ex-Umbrella virologist? Did Chris bring them here?? Why would he?!?
"Ms. Valentine should be able to pass on some fresh clothes for you two tomorrow. Feel free to wash up in the bathroom. I don't have many personal effects here, so I do apologize."
"You talked to Jill?" Leon asked, happy to cover up the mess of scars he was littered with, even if it was with one of Wesker’s shirts. After trying, and failing, to fit the shirt around the new limbs he had, he gave up and simply put the button-up on backwards. It wasn't ideal in the least.
"Yes." Wesker put a phone down next to Chris, returning it. “She seemed like a good option. I only have supplies for one person here and could use the assistance. Make yourself at home, as they say.” And with that Wesker left to parts of the house unknown.
Leon grimaced to himself and decided to go find the bathroom. The front door was a tempting option, but he wasn't about to leave Chris alone with this bastard, asleep and vulnerable. Not that he was really in any state for combat either, but he wouldn't go down without a fight if Wesker tried anything.
Each step seemed to take twice the effort to make and he already felt tired by the time he found it. Oh, when Chris woke up they were going to have some words, he thought. And he’d better fucking have some answers! He quietly seethed at the mess he'd gotten himself into this time.
He froze when the mirror revealed the piss poor state he was in. He looked pale, perhaps not helped by the black shirt that was a tad too large, but his eyes looked reddened with dark bags under them. He still had flecks of dried blood, smears of dirt, bruises, and yet unattended scratches, which certainly explained the grimey feeling.
His eyes caught on the things growing out of his back. He experimentally flexed the muscles on his back, finding the new ones that were sore and tight and oh god- it was like some kind of mantis limb bending out from behind him. Red and almost as long as his arm and looking like it'd been ripped out of his nightmares. Leon recoiled from the mirror, though that didn’t chase away the new awareness. He could feel them there. Aching.
Hastily, he threw a towel over the offending glass and tried very hard not to think about it right now. He did, however, take a shower to clean himself off. It was quick, and the new arms attached to his back coiled in closely, but that didn’t stop him from knocking over a bottle of soap while turning around.
He grimaced, feeling clumsy. Right now he wasn’t in any state to do much of anything. He was barely holding himself together for a shower! It was pitiful. Maybe getting answers out of Chris could wait, by the time he finished his shower he felt exhausted. He was also terribly hungry, but that could also wait. If only he’d been given some kind of pain reliever, too… well. It turned out not to matter because as soon as he curled back up on the couch and tugged the blanket over him, he was out.
—
Jill Valentine was having a very bad no good day. She’d been at US headquarters, waiting to hear back from Redfield and his team, who were investigating strange reports from a small town that spiked suspicions of a secret lab, possibly TRICELL. It could be anything these days, though. Disappearances, a random grotesquely mutated corpse found washed up in the local lake, rumors of strangely dressed individuals. Chris’s team wasn’t supposed to even get involved that day, they were supposed to just observe and report. Get a base of operations established.
Of course something had happened. Chris had reported suspicious activity, and his team were going to check it out. The only sound since then were a few panicked yells over their radios and then static. One of the men called for backup soon after, explaining there had been an altercation. No one knew where Chris was. The radio silence from him stretched on for long, uncomfortable hours. Chris wasn’t answering her calls either.
Backup was quickly called in to investigate and their reports left her sick. Chris was still missing. Among the other agents, there were many injured and others dead. There had been a fairly brief struggle, but no one knew where Chris had gone during it. There had been reports that Chris had met someone he was apparently familiar with though no one was sure who it was or where they had gone either. Rumors of Chris going AWOL were being passed around, and Jill was pissed about it. Chris wouldn’t just leave them like that!
When Jill was told to go home she went, but she was so worried she was considering booking a flight over to help with the search. Nevermind that there was already a whole team looking for him, she used to be a member of special tactics and rescue services! She had the training to help with this sort of situations.
Her cell phone rang while she was in the kitchen getting water, her personal cell phone no less. Only her friends had this number, so she snatched it up in a blink and checked the caller. It was from Chris. She never answered with such haste in her life, the small adrenaline rush narrowing her world down to just the phone in her hands.
“Chris! Where are you, are you okay? What happened?” The words came out in a breathless heap. There was a pregnant pause and Jill started to fear the worst.
“Ms. Valentine, good to hear from you.” Jill felt her veins turn to leaded ice at the voice on the other side of the line. It had been years since she heard it in person, but it was unmistakable. Logically impossible. She’d seen him die on the recordings just a year ago- but. He survived the first time he died, too, hadn’t he? “Christopher is with me.”
“Wesker.” Jill’s voice was deadly, but shook slightly. She didn't know if it was anger or fear. She swallowed. “What do you want? What are you-”
“Now, now. Our dear Christopher is alright. For now." Wesker paused ominously. "He could use your assistance. How soon could you get to Redfield’s last known position? I trust you will come alone, though I don't demand you come unarmed.” His voice was calm. Jill felt like screaming at him.
“I can’t trust you.” She said icily instead.
“I imagine not. Though, I find it quite interesting Chris didn’t tell even you I was still alive.” There was a smug note in his voice.
“What. Are you doing. With Chris?” Jill clenched her free hand into a fist.
“Taking care of him, apparently. He’s asleep at the moment, however. I can have him call you when he is awake if that would reassure you.” Wesker diplomatically offered. Jill glanced at the clock, then the plane ticket booking site she still had open on her computer.
“I could get there tomorrow morning to midday, depending.”
“Good enough. Out of all the contacts on Christopher’s phone, you are the only one I think I might be able to trust. Now, how shall I say- Chris has been compromised.”
“ What ?”
“Him and another agent have been infected with an unknown pathogen and Christopher does not trust himself around anyone else at the moment. He knows I could kill him, and is counting on it should I be unable to develop a vaccine in time. I am working on this issue. In the meantime, could you supply us with several days rations and changes of clothes? I was quite unprepared for their arrival.” He summarized.
“If this is a trap, you picked a really weird pretense.” Jill chewed on the inside of her cheek.
“As I said, Redfield can fill you in on details later. I cannot take the time to shop for them or cook every meal for the agents. Every moment counts. I bought them five days at most, by my estimate.” He explained. “I recommend you come alone, and do not tell anyone else I exist. I would hate to resort to threats.”
“What about Chris’s sister? She’s his only family, I imagine she’s already on a plane to meet up with the search team.” She pointed out. No one dared stop a Redfield on a mission. There was a pause as Wesker considered this.
“We shall see what tomorrow brings.” Was his non-answer.
“How am I supposed to find you tomorrow?”
“Just call Chris’s phone when you are near the town and let him know you need to talk to me. Until then, assume I’m busy.” He said simply, and hung up before Jill could ask more questions. Jill cursed to herself and then stewed over the call. Wesker was alive. Wesker had Chris. Chris was hurt and sick. Chris must have kept the fucking secret of Wesker being alive from her for the past year. Oh, she was going to curse them both out when she saw them.