Disclaimer: Resident Evil and Resident Evil characters are the property of Capcom. This is nonprofit fan fiction.

Warnings: Chris/Wesker. Slash, unrequited.

Say My Name

by Salysha

Just as Wesker was about to strike through the Uroboros container, Chris fired. He caught Wesker in the arm, and Wesker went down with a howl.

It was obvious something had changed the balance: they made the climb over to Wesker's side, and he unceremoniously dropped Wesker to the ground. Even as Chris fixed his aim and the two of them had Wesker locked between themselves, the reality held no victory. Wherever they were, they weren't going to make it. Wesker was neutralized for the moment, but there was no out from the volcanic heat that was enveloping them slowly. Chris' eyes darted back and forth from Wesker to Sheva, who kept aiming fearlessly.

"Some like it hot?" he offered.

Sheva's brow furrowed; she looked incredulous. Her grip on the gun tightened.

Chris nodded inwardly. The distraction had made her more edgy, more alert, more prepared to fight Wesker. It had drawn her focus and made her resistant to the immediate reality that told him they were going to burn.

The mindless ramble ended just like all the others. Expletive, threat, curse, and, "—Chris."

Chris Redfield resisted grinding his teeth, and barely suppressed a jaded sigh. He felt the urge to check the inventory again, though he knew perfectly well what he had: a full handgun and a magnum with two bullets. He hadn't dared take more because they were low on ammo. They had wasted precious bullets on Reapers before finding the creature's weak spot.


His patience was waning, but still Chris resisted lashing out. Albert Wesker had been miserable since his extra boost shot. He had seen blood veins throb through his skull. He was under no illusion that the pain had to be excruciating for Wesker to scream like that, and he took no pleasure in it. He would have offered something, but truthfully, he had nothing to give.

Just as things had seemed hopeless, help had arrived. Josh and Jill came, offering a helicopter ride and a new problem: what to do with Wesker. The gunshot had hurt Wesker, but he was mending. If Wesker went haywire in the helicopter, it would be their end. He had resolved to the only available option with reluctance. When Wesker was still down, Chris had grabbed him and given him a third shot.

They had flown back to Kijuju, and there, Chris had made the decision that left him in his current position. They couldn't trust the serum to keep Wesker down. An incident on the freighter had given him an idea. They returned to the harbor area and caged Wesker in a container. He stayed behind to keep guard until they could get the BSAA to prepare proper custody and find a way to contain him. The others were against him staying alone, but Chris knew it was for the best. The perimeter was secure, but Wesker was dangerous. It would be better with just him left behind.

After that, he'd pulled out a crate to sit on and waited.

"You have no idea what you've done, Chris."

"Save it, Wesker," Chris said tiredly.

Wesker was huddled in a rescue blanket Chris had left in the cage before closing it. He had tried the bars, and stayed behind them, exuding resentment. He stood until another spell hit. He fought it and kept standing, even though it was clearly painful.

"That's great, Wesker. Keep it up."


"Jeez, cut it out already. What's up with you and that 'Chris, Chris, Chris' all the time? It's like you're in love with me or something."

He said it flippantly because it didn't mean anything.

Wesker staggered on his feet.

"Go to hell," Wesker said weakly.

Chris froze at the tone. There was so much emotion.

"You think you know everything."

Chris bolted up. Wesker was at a disadvantage. Cornered, vulnerable. And, paradoxically, all Chris himself could feel was anger. Resentful at being placed in such a position. What made it worse, Wesker wasn't denying anything.

"How's that suit your precious self-righteousness? Everyone must look so tiny on your high pedestal." Wesker choked. Wesker wasn't even talking to him anymore, and then he stopped talking altogether. He slipped, sitting, sliding a hand on the steel bar for support, and deflated.

Chris felt so angry, mostly at himself, and the more his agitation built, the less Wesker's defense held. The quakes had stopped for now, and he only sat still. Cut off from the world.

Chris wanted to pace, but all he did was sink down and let the fog of impasse engulf them. He felt lost. They didn't speak further.

He didn't know what to do, but then there was a sound of something new in the immersive environment. Wesker had heard it, too, and was deftly pulling up. Chris glanced at Wesker. He was suddenly blank and standing stock-still. It was a tapping noise that steadily advanced closer.


Chris was counting paces, handgun ready. He heard a licker, but the creatures moved in packs. Wesker had moved to the edge of his cage, pressing against the bars, clutching a hand at the steel. Another set of steps sounded out of pace.

Two lickers.

Chris put distance between the cage and himself. He did it without thinking; he had a prisoner to guard, and he drew fire without testing if Wesker could dodge the crossfire.

The licker emerged, just as creepy as the ones they had put down at the Tricell facility. His aim was accurate, but the handgun wasn't powerful enough. It took too long to take down the licker, and the second one got close. Chris had to use the magnum.

It was the third one that got him. Unawares, the licker had approached from the side. He caught movement from the corner of his eye, but before he could dodge, a tongue impaled him.

Chris struggled and grasped for his knife. He tried to pull away and slash at the tongue, but he couldn't break off. He was draining fast. Chris fell on the ground.

Chris never registered the metal creak as the bars of the container yielded to a greater force. He didn't hear the swoosh, followed by a sickening thud, as the licker's heart was pierced and pulled through. Albert Wesker double-checked the surroundings, blazing like a golden god of retribution, and turned to Chris.

On the ground, Chris Redfield was dying.

The world was covered in a growing red haze and a creeping darkness. He lay motionless as Wesker crouched by his side, feeling his pockets and muttering how something had to be there. There was a small sound of triumph, and just as Chris was about to relinquish life, Wesker grabbed him and drove the injection through his heart.

The shot saved him. His vitals picked up, and Chris pulled back from brink of death. He tried to open his eyes, but the outlook was bleary. He was fumbling for words, but nothing came out. He hovered between insentience and awakening until he passed out.

Wesker looked at Chris' unconscious form, hovering a hesitant hand. He stayed still for the longest time, hand poised, but retreated without touching. He said only because Chris couldn't hear him, "I resolved long ago not to let you go."

The BSAA found him later.

While the troops came with manpower and resolve to contain Wesker, they found Chris unconscious in the container where Wesker had been. Wesker was nowhere in sight. The containers bars had been twisted out of shape, but they couldn't get in without using the crane.

"Chris!" Sheva reached Chris' side first. She immediately noticed the ugly patch of dried blood on his chest. She managed to rouse him just long enough so Chris could give her a weary look and mumble, "Lickers."

The BSAA reached the conclusion that Wesker had to have had an accomplice. The gruesome bodies scattered around more than backed up Chris' innocence. He was hailed for fending off the lickers and living to tell the tale.

Chris, himself, kept coming back to the same questions: if Wesker had been strong enough to break out any time, why had he stayed? Why had Wesker dragged him to the relative safety of the container where regular enemies couldn't get to, even bent the bars back to block the route in? Every time, he could find only one answer and press his head in his hand. He knew the answer, and didn't know what to do with it.


Kind thanks to Gypsie (Gypsie Rose) for the proofreading!

Published October 30, 2012.