Chapter 23.

I have this one dream a lot. Nothing happens, yet I keep having it over and over. I can't tell if it's supposed to be some cliché, Hamlet-esque type dream. I'm a twenty year old with a 'daddy-complex.' The dream always takes place in different places. They're normal dreams that change on a daily basis, but one thing keeps happening. No matter where or when; it always happens. Wesker is always somewhere watching from afar. He's disappointed by something; his arms are crossed. His mouth is taught into a thin line. His sunglasses are impenetrable. In every dream I approach him; I don't know why. It's not like we're going to connect, and he'll break character and become a loving father. That's not how it works. And if that did happen, it wouldn't be worth anything.

I approach him. He removes his sunglasses; his fiery eyes challenge me. A smirk forms on his face.

"'Jake, isn't it?" He wears that goddamn smirk. "I thought that was just a term of endearment, but you may be the only person on this earth actually named 'Jake.'" I grab his collar; he laughs. "Come on, you haven't seen me in years, and this is how you greet me? I'm disappointed. I see you're around Birkin's daughter. It seems that the Birkins can't get enough of us Weskers." He opens my hands and slips away from me. "I'm not here to mock you, Jake. I'm here to congratulate you. You've found the one thing that ruined me. It wasn't for the money, you know. It wasn't for the fame, the science... It seems I just was charging head-first into a wall, and I didn't give a damn who got in my way. But Anita, she was something else. Something I didn't deserve. And yet, she cherished us." There's a long pause. Always. "We're wrecks, Jake. Branded as Weskers, we'll live as infamous wretches. Don't mess up like I did, kid." And for a second, I swear I can see Albert Wesker, the man with so much potential. His clear blue eyes, young and hopeful; it's like he really believed there was a future.


"Anita Jessika Muller." You said I wasn't a monster, but what would you say now? It doesn't matter what she'd say. The Uroboros is complete; Chris Redfield is on my tail.

I've gone too far. There's no way to just turn myself in. I must maintain my existence, grovel to the Tyrant's ego, but if I were to just resign, there wouldn't be a way to live it all down. I wouldn't fare well in jail, seeing as I am not alive, and the Tyrant is a tyrant. Tyrants don't go to jail. Looking back on all these years, all this research, I could have cured cancer or something better than this. I could have saved millions, but all that would matter is Anita. She is my downfall; I will admit to this. I will accept my fate. If I am to die, I wish for it to be at the hands of Chris Redfield, the man who deserves the recognition for his work, his passion.

He gave in to Redfield...

I am done. The chapter of Albert Wesker's life is nearing an end. I do wish best of luck to Chris; although I've surrendered, the Tyrant lives on raw emotion, raw instinct, raw action. That is what I've created and doomed everyone to the inevitable rawness of humanity. Perhaps I could be paralleled with the infamous Frankenstein for his lack of a morality check, but I accept my wrongs. I take all the blame because even if I refute it now, history is written by the victor. One day people will hear my name in their books when they read the story of Chris Redfield, the hero. Little do people realize, my true action against him is that my existence, the repetition of my name, the acknowledgment of my work, and my legend will live on. Everyone will request that he reminisce on my accomplishments and his faults. In the end, I win because I will no longer have to care. I laugh to myself, and I can feel my mind slipping. I can feel my thoughts growing opaque, and the Tyrant takes his place on the throne that he's been harassing me for all this time. I am finally free.

We know what happened... We know... We...


Sherry and I are apparently a thing now. We keep each other in check, but our system is more of a one-sided deal. She makes sure I don't fulfill the family name while I just lend her a shoulder now and then. Much to Claire and everyone else's distaste, we give recognition to our parents. They've been granted their own counter space.

Chris and Jill disappeared off to the middle of nowhere; something that they've probably wanted since, well, forever. It was hard for Chris to give up the BSAA, so they just up and left. Claire has taken a break from hunting down her brother. She's been a good friend, although we get in arguments more than not.

Sherry says I should use my name. Jake Aleks Wesker. I remind her that the world can't take another round of Birkin and Wesker. She laughs every time, but I mean it. If William Birkin didn't push all of Albert Wesker's buttons, they could have destroyed the world or most of what we know.

Sometimes I wonder if there's more to life after death; if there is, sometimes I wonder of the possibilities of Axel finding Kai through all that chaos, of Anita finding Albert for that long awaited reunion. If there ever were a benevolent god, would he forgive Wesker's god-complex and allow him the slightest bit of happiness? I wonder these things as I stare out the window as the snow slowly falls from the sky. I wonder these things when I am left counting my own heartbeats.


"What are you thinking of?" Sherry asks me.

"How much I need a haircut." I stare at her.

"I'll give you one." She offers.

"I don't like my head looking patchy, so no thanks." I stick my tongue out at her.

"That was one time."

"One time that made me look like a homeless drug addict!" She giggles.

"I promise I won't do it again."


"If you knew how steady my hand has to be when I cut your hair, you would –" I wrap my arms around her waist.

"Just shut up will you?" I won't say it because it's fucking dumb. She won't say it because it's not a guaranteed fact for life. But we both know that this was all a giant joke played by a god-complexed asshole and his irritatingly smart co-worker, and I've never been happier to be the butt of a joke.

"You're a god-awful boyfriend." She makes a face at me.

"Careful, you're face'll get stuck like that, and unfortunately, I'm shallow and can't date someone with a face like that."

"I hate you."

"Like hell you do." I kiss her cheek.

A/N: So... It's been almost six months, but I didn't really know how to end it all... I apologize for the extended wait. Also, I wanted to finish this or work on it's counterpart, and I just had writer's block on this one... I hope you enjoyed it, and I'm happy to have completed this story.