Side Effects May Include...

A/N: I'm forever indebted to the lovely anotsosimplelove for all of her help with this story.


Chapter Three:


Chris had no idea when, exactly, he passed out. When he woke up, he was still sitting against the wall with his knees drawn up to his chest, and still naked from the waist down. He heard footsteps outside the door, and sprang to his feet, cringing as an uncomfortable pins-and-needles feeling flooded his legs. He yanked his pants up around his waist, and zipped them back up, just as the door slid open and Wesker strode into the room. Chris glared at him.

“What the fuck do you want?” he demanded, resisting the sudden urge to hit Wesker that bubbled up inside him. The blonde started to pace back and forth in front of the door.

“Actually, dear heart, I came to ask what you wanted,” said Wesker. Chris’ eyes narrowed as he glared at the older man, biting back the string of obscenities that threatened to spill out of his mouth. He kept quiet because he wanted to avoid a repeat of the previous day, even though the thought resurrected a fraction of the ‘inexplicable arousal.’ He pushed the thought from his mind and focused on Wesker’s words.

“What do you mean?” he asked. The blonde sighed.

“Are you really that dense? I would think even you would be able to answer such a simple question.”

“Well, I want you to fix me and let me go the fuck home. That’s what I want,” Chris replied, his voice steadily increasing in volume.

“I already have ‘fixed’ you,” said Wesker, making quotation marks with his fingers. “And you know I cannot allow you to leave.”

“By ‘fix me,’ I meant for you to reverse this godforsaken plague you’ve infected me with,” Chris snapped, making air quotes with his fingers as well. The blonde laughed.

“It’s far too late for that, Christopher. It was too last an hour after I injected you. Uroboros has merged with your DNA. The progression of your so-called infection will be a lot less painful and unpleasant if you simply accept the fact, and embrace it. We will be gods, Christopher, and--” Wesker never got to finish his sentence, because Chris lunged forward, and his fist connected with the side of the blonde’s jaw. The first blow caught him by surprise, but he dodged the second, and soon had the younger man in an arm-bar.

“There goes that defiant streak of yours, rearing its ugly head again,” the blonde whispered. Chris struggled against Wesker’s grip, trying to relieve the pain in his arm while not allowing himself to think about the way the blonde’s lithe body was pressed up against him. Wesker loosened his grip on Chris’ arm slightly, before wrapping his other arm around the younger man’s waist. “You miss this, don’t you?” Wesker asked, his hand sliding down to rest on Chris’ belt buckle. Chris’ body was telling him to relax against the older man, and the infection-fueled lust threatened to make its way to the surface again. Chris shook his head.

“No. You’re a monster, and you probably always have been,” the brunette hissed through gritted teeth. Wesker laughed, and it was a cold, hollow sound.

“Your mouth is saying one thing, but it appears that your body begs to differ,” the blonde sneered, rubbing Chris through his pants. The brunette let out a soft sigh, and Wesker smirked, thinking he’d successfully regained control of the situation. However, in one swift motion, Chris stepped hard on Wesker’s left foot, and swung his right elbow back, catching the blonde square in the solar plexus. Wesker stumbled backward a few steps, surprised. The younger man whirled around and settled into a defensive stance. The blonde was still doubled over, trying to catch his breath. “You… just… made a big… mistake,” Wesker said slowly.

“Paper,” said Chris.

“What?” Wesker asked.

“I want paper. And a pen,” Chris explained, not moving from his defensive stance. Wesker straightened up, adjusting his clothes.

“You try my patience, Christopher, but it’s only a matter of time… Very well. You’ll get your pen and paper, but it won’t save you.” The older man then turned and walked back towards the door. It was only when Wesker began punching the digits of the security code into the panel that Chris lowered his hands.

“And I want some food too!” Chris shouted as Wesker left the room. The blonde made no indication that he’d even heard the other man’s request.

Once he was alone, Chris walked over and sat down on the edge of his bed. As much as he didn’t like to admit it, Wesker had been right. His own body was betraying him. He stood up, and walked over to the small bathroom connected to ‘his’ room, closing the door behind him. He stripped out of his clothes and took a quick look at himself in the mirror above the sink. Aside from his eyes, nothing about his appearance had changed, so far as he could see.

Chris walked over to the shower, and turned the water on and set the temperature as cold as it would go. He stepped into the spray, a soft hiss escaping his lips as the icy water ran down his skin. He had no idea how long he stayed in the shower. It wasn’t until quite some time after the uncomfortable feeling in his lower body had subsided that he turned the water off and stepped out onto the tiles.

Once he had changed back into his clothes, Chris walked back into the other room. Chris padded across the room to the table, and noticed that someone had been in the room while he was in the shower. On the table, there was a marble notebook, a pen, and a sandwich on a paper plate. He sat down at the table and uncapped the pen before he realised he had no idea what day it was. He did some quick math in his head, and figured out that it was his third day in the facility. At the top of the first page of the notebook, he wrote, “Day 3,” and his handwriting was a messy combination of print and cursive.

Chris decided that, if he was going to find a cure for Wesker’s so-called ‘gift,’ he would have to document everything that had happened to him for future reference. Taking a bite out of the sandwich, Chris began recounting his experience thus far, cringing slightly as he remembered how easily he’d given in to temptation the previous day. It was the virus… he convinced himself. Once Chris finished writing down his version of the past three days, he decided he would have to keep the notebook somewhere that wasn’t easily accessible. After a few moments’ thought, he decided to keep it in his bed between the mattress and the box-spring. It was a stupid idea, and he knew it, but there wasn’t anything written in the notebook that Wesker didn’t already know. He figured that he wouldn’t worry about it until he had to.

As a feeling of boredom crept up on Chris, along with a touch of cabin fever, he realised he should have asked for something other than just paper and a pen. For a moment, he half-jokingly considered trying to figure out a way to carve a shank out of his toothbrush. It was after that moment that Chris remembered what Wesker had said about locking him in. Wesker had already told Chris he was ‘progressing’ quickly, and the brunette wondered if, soon, he would be able to wander around by himself. Surprisingly, Wesker had thus far been a man of his word. Only time would tell if he would keep all of his promises.

Chris’ question was answered the next morning when he woke up to discover a piece of paper with a long string of numbers written on it on his bedside table. He changed out of his pajamas and walked over to the door with the piece of paper in his hand. He took a closer look at the piece of paper. The code for the door was longer than most peoples’ phone numbers, and written underneath it in neat, blocky letters were the words, ‘watch your step.’ Chris typed the code into the panel beside the door very carefully, not wanting to find out what would happen if he screwed it up. He was slightly surprised to hear the locks click open after he punched in the last digit.

Opening the door slowly, Chris poked his head out into the hallway and looked around. He then stepped out into the corridor, letting the door click shut behind him. He folded the piece of paper and stuck it into one of his pockets before starting off down the hallway in the direction opposite of the way Wesker had led him to the cafeteria. Whenever Chris would pass any of the other scientists working in the facility, they would either stare openly at him, or talk amongst themselves in hushed voices.

Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m a freak. Chris thought to himself. You can thank your boss for that. He was looking down at his feet and not watching where he was walking when he bumped into someone walking in the other direction. Chris looked up to see who it was he’d bumped into, and found himself face-to-face with Wesker.
“Christopher,” he began, slightly surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“You left the door code on my nightstand, so I figured I’d explore a little bit,” Chris replied, feeling sheepish for some reason.

“I did no such thing,” Wesker snapped. “And I would suggest you go back to your room,” he added, with a dangerous edge to his voice. Chris knew better than to start an argument, so he turned around and started walking back in the direction he’d come from. When he was halfway down the hallway, he turned around.

“How about you send me some books or something, so I’m not so damn bored all the time!” he shouted.

“We’ll see,” was all Wesker said.

When Chris got back to his room, he retrieved his notebook and started writing out what had just happened. If it wasn’t Wesker, who else would have given me the code? He wrote, his handwriting getting sloppier and sloppier. Who would want me wandering around this place? He was unable to answer either question, and returned the notebook to its place between his mattress and box-spring before flopping down on his bed, defeated and puzzled.

-- To be continued.