Even in the dreadful state he was in, losing blood at an alarming rate, he could easily say it was the most terrible sound he'd ever heard; an awful, almost terrified cry was not something that should ever escape Wesker's lips, least of all when it was directed at him - when it was his fault. He couldn't move, barely breathing after the last slice had torn through the side of his neck. Will had his hands pressed against the cut flesh, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe that it was making any difference. Very soon, there would be more of his blood staining the wood floor than inside him, and there was nothing he could do about it. He could hear Wesker talking to him, probably trying to help, but none of the words made sense to him. He tried to gasp an apology to the man, but he pushed the younger blonde's head down to the floor, his hair quickly becoming a dark, glistening red. Wesker's slender fingers pulled Will's away from his neck for a moment, trying to see the damage underneath, and he blanched at the sight. There was a deep cut in the left side of his neck, running diagonally from the corner of his chin down to the top of his spine, and it was bleeding profusely. He pressed Will's hands back down onto the cut, desperately hoping. The knees of his uniform were already soaked in Will's blood, and he kept one hand on top of Will's as he tore strips from his shirt, making a pad that would at least help to stem the bleeding.

He hoped.

"Will, come on... Stay with me..." Wesker's hands shook violently as he pressed the pad against Will's neck, tying it into place. It turned red almost immediately, and he swallowed. There was no way this would work – the wound was too deep and there wasn't enough time to save him.

At least, conventionally.

He didn't really have time to think of the consequences. For once, Wesker acted in the moment, regardless of what could happen afterwards.

Will would hate him forever.

Wesker reached over Will, rifling through the man's pockets. He always had a spare with him, just in case. He tried to ignore Will watching him through a haze of pain, a desperate apology in his eyes. Stupid man – none of the blame was his. He shouldn't even have been there.

Weser's fingers closed on the object he wanted in Will's pocket, and he reached up to touch Will's face with his other hand.

"Will... I'm sorry."

Wesker looked away, sliding the tip of the needle into Will's arm and pushing the plunger down smoothly. Will's eyes went wide, first in pain as the contents of the syringe poured into his bloodstream, and then in horror as he realised what Wesker had done. He screwed up his face in agony, gasping as the virus attacked him savagely, and managed to croak out a single word before he blacked out.


Wesker watched as Will died alone at his knees, events completely out of his control. They always were whenever the outcome meant something more than getting one over on Redfield.

He remained motionless; ignoring the wet blood that now soaked his pants up past his thighs, he stared down at Will, disgusted with himself. There were other slashes covering his body – the closer Wesker looked, the more damage he saw. He swallowed guiltily as he spotted bruises and scratches that he had inflicted upon Will himself, and other hurts that his negligence had caused.

He dropped the now empty needle to the floor, close to Will's bloodstained right hand, watching it roll around.

Wesker snorted and rose to his feet, attempting to shake his sentimental self away. Will was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it. Time to move on. Emotional attachments only weigh people down.

He glanced back at Will's huddled form on the floor from the doorway, and then strode back across the room to pick up his gun. There was no point in letting Will kill himself if he managed to come back; besides, leaving a weapon lying around would leave a lot of loose ends too.

He wouldn't be coming back anyway – the chances were far too slim. The greatest semblance of life that the virus could give Will would be that of a standard T-Virus biohazard, and that was nothing at all. It would also prompt calls for him to kill Will, and he wasn't sure he could do that, even if it was to save him.

Wesker left, heading for the shooting range. He needed to clear his head.

/A/N: First chapter is short, I know, but the rest will be a lot longer. Wesker is a little OOC, but there are reasons for that *waves fingers mystically* which you'll find out about later. If you can put up with any more of it. ^^

Anyway, thanks for reading!