!DISCLAIMER!

Resident Evil and all characters therein belong to Capcom. Derry, Maine belongs to Stephen King. Alexandra Wesker is the sole property of myself and cannot be used without my permission, as are all other OCs contained within this story. Thank you. WC


A/N: This is a ChrisXWesker Yaoi. If you do not like Yaoi, please read no further, because I'm not interested in reading reviews where you damn me to hell for making to men be romantic with each other. This fic contains no actual description of sexual acts, sorry to disappoint a lot of you, but I almost always go with the romantic side of things and leave the sex to the imagination. There will be kissing and a bit of making out.

For everyone still with me...ENJOY!!


…voices and pain…

That's all that he could remember for what seemed like years, because that was all there was. Two voices and his own pain…

A female's voice…somehow sweet and cheerful through the screams of agony that reverberated through the darkened room.

A male's voice…calculated, stern, a doctor's voice…he knew the tone, after all he used to be one.

The voices were gone for now, but not for long. He had no way of tracking time in this prison, they left nothing to tell him how long he had suffered…chained up like an animal. He tailed his current suffering against all he had done and decided his tab was paid in full…with a tip. Before he could decided just how much over his bill he had paid he passed out again…

…explosions…screaming…gunfire…

…light…

"Holy shit, well if this don't beat all."

Slowly Wesker lifted his head, the chains that held his wrists tinkling as his weight shifted. He cracked an eye, wincing at the pain. There had been varying amounts of dimness in the room, but since he had been brought here, the room had never been fully lit.

"Who.." He whispered, his eyes adjusting. "…who's there…"

"Come on Captain, I know you remember me."

The fuzzy shape finally fell together into an actual person and Wesker was confronted by none other than his archenemy, Christopher Redfield. However, anyone that might be able to get him out of this hell was his best friend.

"…red…field…chris…"

"Very good Wesker, congratulations, you remember those people you've betrayed."

The anger in Chris's voice was almost palpable. The explosions seemed to taper off, just as the intercom announced the immanent demise of the installation.

"Well Captain, I'm off. Don't want to be here when the fireworks go off." Chris turned, heading for the door. "See you in hell, Sir."

"…please…help me…"

Whether it was the pleading in Wesker's voice or the actual use of the word please, it made Chris stop dead in his tracks and turn. The pleading in those yellow red eyes was even worse than the pleading of his voice had been.

Chris was torn, because there was no treachery, no lying, just a man begging for help. Chris hated Wesker with every fiber of his being, but he couldn't leave him here helpless to die…if he was going to die, Chris was going to do the job himself.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, along with shouts, and orders. Chris' head snapped to the open door.

"Chris, I'm begging you…" Wesker's voice broke. "…don't leave me here…please, don't leave me here…"

Chris sighed, working quickly to release Wesker from the chains that held him. He finally managed it, almost falling over as Wesker's dead weight fell into him. Despite the situation, Chris couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"…can't walk…chained too…too long…"

"I got ya sir."

Chris shifted Wesker's weight and stood up with the man draped over his shoulder. Chris gave one last look at the chains hanging from the ceiling then turned his attention toward getting out of there before anyone decided they wanted Wesker more than he wanted to save his sorry ass…