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Shattered Memories	By : FatalYaoi Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 5096 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own (nor will I ever) Capcom, Resident Evil, or the characters stated. I receive no profit whatsoever in making or posting this story.

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.:Chapter 7:.

Denial

The kiss never went deeper than their lips touching but it was enough for Chris to pull away. He didn't straighten or remove himself from Wesker when he pulled away- just sat there, hunched over and still inches from his face. His eyes were completely glued to the green eyes that stared back into his brown and a deep feeling of warmth spread throughout his body.

The same type of warmth that he felt during S.T.A.R.S.

"Chris, I believe it would be in your best interest to-"

"R-Right-" Chris straightened before standing and stepping over Wesker so that he could stand up as well.

Chris, quickly, began for the door, his fingertips ghosting over his lips where he still tasted Wesker's lips upon them. He didn't want to think about what just happened, or why, so he didn't. He focused on anything but the situation and he soon found himself interested in his feet while he walked up to the doorway, awaiting the automatic door to open.

"I'm rather surprised," Chris cursed under his breath and spun on his heel to look at the blond who just spoke.

Wesker stood beside his fallen stool, his hair slightly disarray and a smirk peeling across his lips. Chris stood half across the room from him and both stared at each other expectedly. Chris began actively pondering whether or not he should turn and leave or take Wesker's bait. Chris eyed the sunglasses that Wesker was clutching in his right hand before sighing and speaking.

"At what?"

"I highly expected you to ask questions, Chris. I'm a bit disappointed," The smirk remained lit while the man spoke and Chris found himself growing tired as the adrenaline of the situation faded away.

"Disappointment usually comes with assumptions, Wesker," Chris stopped and watched, rather intently, Wesker slide his sunglasses back onto his nose before continuing, "I'm tired, that's all that was and I don't care what started your attack."

"Of course you do. If you didn't, you wouldn't have saved me, Chris," Chris felt his heart sink deep into his stomach- he just wanted to go to bed. He wanted a simple solution to everything and he didn't want complications.

"I saved you because if I didn't, I would have died," Chris snapped before adverting his eyes from Wesker as the man slid a hand through his hair and tidied it with ease.

"And perhaps you can explain your little show after as well? Claiming lack of sleep provoked the action simply won't prevail as an acceptable excuse."

"Believe what you want, I'm going to bed," Chris mumbled before turning on his heel, stumbling tiredly off to the side before regaining balance and stepping towards the door. The automatic door opened with a quiet sliding sound and Chris stepped through it, walking across the hall, and into the room that he felt comfortable calling 'his'.

Chris was far past being tired. He was in a stage of tired where he wondered if he would even remember what had happened. Pondering the thought, Chris climbed into bed and just as his mind began wandering to his actions, he fell asleep.

When Chris awoke, there was a split second of calm disorientation. He sat up and looked around the room before realization hit. Chris inhaled sharply, his mouth dropping ever so slightly as he pushed through his hazy thoughts to remember exactly what had happened. Wesker's screams stood out to him along with his eyes and the feeling of their lips touching. Chris's panic stricken mind worsened slowly as he pieced every broken memory he had of the morning and the night previous. Once everything was together and it made sense, the disorienting haze had gone and he was wide awake.

Sliding off the bed, Chris left the room in a hurry, throwing open the door hard enough for it to bounce off the wall and close behind him as he rushed across the hall. He stopped in front of the automatic door but once it opened, he saw Wesker sitting in the chair he was before. His left elbow was leaning on the table in front of him while his head was propped on top of his fist. Once Chris quietly got closer, he saw Wesker's right arm resting on his thigh, palm down and relaxed. Wesker wasn't breathing heavily or snoring, but Chris saw that he was asleep and he felt the panic, and hidden anger, drain immediately.

Chris's gaze fell on the project in front of Wesker and he quietly sighed. Everything was sprawled out in front of him, nothing was lit or knocked over but it still looked messy and complicated. Chris saw that Wesker's elbow was leaning on a notebook that had scribbles of different formulas, some crossed out, others circled. Chris looked down and realized the area around Wesker was filled with crumpled pieces of paper.

Chris sat down in the stool to Wesker's right and he found himself staring at Wesker's sleeping form. Chris hadn't even known Wesker slept and now, there Wesker sat- silent and peaceful. Once the thought that Wesker deserved a rest crossed Chris's mind, Chris had to hold back a laugh.

Since when, exactly, did Albert Wesker deserve anything?

Since Wesker started showing human qualities.

Chris froze at the thought. Wesker wasn't showing human qualities. His eyes reverting back to normal didn't mean Wesker was suddenly human.

Chris's thoughts felt scattered, completely illogical, and inappropriate but he just couldn't fight the want to help the man. Maybe it was all the pain in Wesker's screams earlier that day or maybe it was the look that was fixed in Chris's mind- the green eyes that looked at him the way they use to look at him back in S.T.A.R.S.

Knowingly, Chris was hanging onto memories that he thought were long gone. S.T.A.R.S. was a haunting nightmare that stalked him for years. He seemingly compared everything to the good times he had in S.T.A.R.S.- the lack of partnership in the B.S.A.A, the lack of care for their teams, and the lack of skill everyone seemed to possess. Nothing in the B.S.A.A. seemed up to his liking and it worsened when he compared it to S.T.A.R.S. Even when Jill was his partner in the B.S.A.A, it wasn't the same. Nothing was the same.

Wesker's movements pulled Chris from his thoughts and he immediately stiffened as Wesker sat up and looked directly at Chris. The two stared at each other a moment, Wesker's blond eyebrows arched and Chris realized he was going to have to explain his actions.

"I didn't know that you sleep," Chris muttered distractingly, his eyes shifting to the empty space in front of him.

"Yes well, that has become quite a downside to the recent injections. Prior to this, sleep was only required periodically. However, I don't believe you're in here to talk about my slumber patterns," Wesker spoke, still facing Chris who was now looking down and playing with his hands.

"So what am I in here for, then?" Chris asked, glancing up at him, daringly. The panic was quickly returning.

"Answers, I'm assuming," Wesker said simply, looking back at Chris.

"Will I get them?"

"Perhaps if you inquire, you'll get what you wish," Wesker suggested, his left hand moving while he spoke before retuning to its position resting on the table.

"What happened this morning?" Chris muttered after a long silence of him debating on whether or not to take the chance.

"I underestimated my body and didn't realize I was reverting so rapidly. I fell asleep and-"

"You missed your injection. Yeah, I got that part," Chris muttered. "So what about the rest? And last night?"

"I don't hold the answers to your actions, Chris," Wesker said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, well, neither do I," Chris responded with a sigh, leaning against the table, his right hand cupping his chin while his elbow supported him.

"Of course you do," Wesker said, the familiar smirk returning to his lips.

Chris looked at Wesker through narrowed eyes, anger bubbling under his surface. Wesker knew nothing of what was going through Chris's head and he was acting like Chris was hiding something- as if he had a real reason to. At this point, he wanted to just forget the whole thing but the casualty of the conversation was frightening him. Why wasn't Wesker freaking out- Chris stopped the thought. He couldn't imagine Wesker 'freaking out' and the mere thought was rather amusing.

"Alright. So why did you do it last night?" Chris was intent on not saying what 'it' was. As far as he was concerned, 'it' could be anything as long as he doesn't say what 'it' actually was.

"What did I do, Chris?" Wesker asked, tilting his head slightly towards Chris, the smirk lingering dangerously.

"I knew it. It was just one big fucking game, wasn't it? You got bored and decided you could entertain yourself by putting me through an emotional-"

"Just stop talking, Chris," Wesker spoke dully. "You enjoy over thinking everything, don't you?" The blond asked, a hint of humor behind his words.

"What are you talking about?" Chris asked, pulling away from his palm. Instead, he hunched over, both forearms resting on his thighs while he intentionally avoided eye contact again.

"Perhaps when you've stopped over contemplating every little action I do, you will see why I did it. You might even take it a step farther and call it what itwas, Chris," Wesker leaned over slightly so that, when Chris looked up, they were face to face. "It was a kiss. The sooner you acknowledge this, the sooner you just might understand that not everything has a deeper meaning."

Chris stared at Wesker, both of them lingering silently before Wesker sat back and straightened. Chris sat up slightly, one arm still comfortable on his thigh while the other ran through his hair. He really was lost for words and Wesker was expecting a response. Maybe Wesker was right. Maybe.

"So then, why did you do it?"

"If you don't recall our conversation, perhaps it's best not to-"

"Was it really that spontaneous?" Chris asked doubtfully.

"Chris, you're over thinking this entire-"

"No, I'm not. How else am I suppose to think about it?"

"Don't, Chris. Perhaps try considering where your actions came from before questioning mine. Perhaps now you will leave me to finish my work," Wesker spoke the latter sentence rather dangerously and Chris took it as a sign that he should leave and gladly accepted it.

Standing, Chris began maneuvering back to the entrance, silence overtaking him. He wanted to say something, he didn't want to leave without a direct answer but if he couldn't even figure it out himself, how did he expect Wesker to know?

Because Wesker knew everything- that was how Chris looked at it.

Wesker seemed to have a better insight to everything, especially when it came to Chris. Wesker knew what Chris was thinking just by looking at the expressions on his face. Wesker could sort out thoughts that Chris didn't even know he had and somehow, Wesker was always right. That was harder for Chris to accept than anything- Wesker always being right.

That is why when the automatic door in front of the brunet opened, he didn't go through it. Instead, he turned on his heel, crossed his arms, and looked at Wesker who had turned back to whatever he was working on when he fell asleep. When Wesker didn't hear the door close, he audibly sighed and stopped working.

"What is it, Chris?" He asked, not bothering to turn and face Chris.

"You know why I did it, don't you?"

Chris still wasn't going to say what it was.

"Of course I do," Chris could hear the humor in Wesker's voice again and realized the amount of entertainment Wesker seemed to get from the whole situation.

"And you won't tell me-" Chris trailed off purposely and Wesker obliged to answer.

"Simply because you aren't ready to understand the reasoning behind the situation. Actually, it's rather similar to the reason why I've yet to reveal why you're here. If you're so keen on over thinking everything, Christopher, perhaps you can take that into consideration."

"Maybe I will," Chris muttered, glancing at Wesker again before turning on his heel.

Yet again, he stopped.

"You know, you really should try and take a break from all this research," Chris suggested, his arms uncrossing and hanging comfortably at his sides.

"Time is of the essence. I will not tolerate a delay simply because my body is reverting back to that of a useless shell," Wesker spoke sternly, returning to the work in front of him.

"It was just a suggestion, Wesker. Think about it. And that backup plan of yours-"

"I'm prepared to do whatever is necessary if the situation arises when I must- that is all I'm revealing until that time approaches."

"Good," Chris continued through the doorway but stopped when Wesker called his name. Backtracking several steps, he leaned into the room and asked, "What?"

"If you require food, the kitchen is a few doors down the hall to the right."

Chris stood in the doorway for a long moment as he processed that he might actually be hungry.

"Okay, I think I'll do that. Thanks, I guess," Chris muttered and was slightly surprised to hear an audible grunt of acknowledgement.

Chris turned on his heel and began down the hall, food now on the mind. He passed several doors before he saw a room on the left, the door labeled kitchen. It, like the laboratory door, was automatic and once Chris entered the room, he found himself comparing the room to the lab as well.

The entire room was just as bright as the facility (or what he had seen of it) and, much like the laboratory, was lined with cabinets. The only difference was the multiple stoves, the white table in the center surrounded by chairs, and the large refrigerator in the corner beside a pantry. Everything was sparkling white, nothing looked used and it caused a slight regretful feeling somewhere in Chris when he knew he would be messing up the clean kitchen.

Chris chose something relatively simple, a box of macaroni and cheese that he found sitting in the pantry. Setting the skinny blue box onto the counter beside the stove, Chris began going through the cupboards, searching for some sort of pot. Eventually, he opened the shining white oven and found a small, deep pot piled onto a cookie sheet. He pulled out the brand new pot, filled it with water from the sink, and placed it onto the stove where he turned the knob to high and waited for it to boil.

For a long time, Chris just stared at the rumbling water in the pot. Many thoughts ran through his mind but he decided it was best not to grab onto any of them. It was nothing. It only happened because Chris was tired and his buried feelings for his old Captain returned in a moment of weakness. There was no reason to think about something that could easily be forgotten about- that was something Chris had decided long before and that's how he was going to keep to it.

There was no reason to think about it any longer.

Once the water began bubbling, Chris opened the cardboard box and pulled out the small packet of powdered cheese before dumping the uncooked macaroni into the pot. While the macaroni sat, Chris walked over to the fridge and opened it again, peering inside to find milk and half a stick of butter waiting for him.

He grabbed both, wondering who had been keeping the kitchen stocked with foods that expired rather quickly, and returned to the pot. Setting the carton of milk and butter off to the side, he turned off the stove and picked up the pot by the handle. Chris held the pot out in front of him as he slowly made his way to the sink before pouring the excess water out, careful not to let any of the macaroni escape.

Once Chris was sure he couldn't get anymore of the water out without dumping the macaroni as well, he set the pot back onto the stove and began adding the milk and butter. Quickly he returned the remainder of the contents to the fridge before searching through a number of drawers and finally settling on a large serving spoon to mix the macaroni. Grabbing the cheese packet off of the counter, Chris slowly poured the powder into the pot while mixing with the large spoon and before long, it turned into the macaroni and cheese Chris use to make almost constantly in America.

Not bothering to get a bowl, Chris grabbed the handle to the pot and brought it over to the kitchen table, setting it down in front of one of the seats before sitting down himself. Using the large spoon, he scooped an average proportion into his mouth but while chewing, he felt himself stop and realization hit.

Chris dropped the spoon back into the pot and forcefully swallowed his mouthful of food.

It was as if someone had taken all of his emotions away for a while and then threw them back at him along with every worry and problem in the world. His appetite drained almost immediately and he began physically feeling ill. Nausea churned in his stomach and Chris was sure his face had turned white.

Chris had done it. The very it that he swore he would never do. The very it that he yelled at Wesker for doing. It never should have happened. Chris hadn't done it to S.T.A.R.S. Captain Albert Wesker. Chris had done it to Albert Wesker, self proclaimed God.

Albert Wesker had kissed Chris Redfield.

Chris Redfield then kissed Albert Wesker.

Chris became sincerely lost for words as his mind drained of all thoughts. His partners, his memories, what was to come within a month- the only thing that remained were the two kisses they had shared and the feelings that he had completely ignored until now.

The first kiss left him feeling empty, similarly to how he felt now but the second was far different. Chris's stomach fluttered and danced but it was a lie. Everything was a lie when it came to Albert Wesker. Even Chris's memories of his Captain were a lie. Wesker was always working with Umbrella and always had the intention to betray them. Nothing would change that.

However, this didn't change his feelings for his Captain- they still depended on each other at some point and Chris still had a tinge of trust left in him somewhere for the man, something he wished didn't exist.

The thought of kissing a man wasn't much of problem for Chris, sexuality wasn't important and he didn't care much for a label in his situation. The thought of kissing Wesker, however, was much more confusing. Wesker was Wesker and Chris was Chris…

So why did Chris still feel the tingling on his lips? The fluttering in his stomach? The distant giddiness that lay past the worried thoughts? Why did Chris long so much for his old Captain when he knew it was a lie? Why did he long for an illusion?

Why was Chris so attracted to Albert Wesker?
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Shattered Memories