but who's gonna push my wheelchair around when i get sick?

[retroviridae]

[ Two officers shot in local standoff following raid on drug compound. That had been the headline, nonspecific. And yet—"someone just walked over my grave" was how superstitious idiots would probably phrase the feeling of cold dread that had washed over William as he watched the words scroll across the bottom of the screen, as the footage cut to a reporter standing in front of police tape and a mess of red and blue light. Ambulances, police cars. He knew. He didn't know how, but he knew.

His hands ached with the tension of his grip on the Volvo's hard steering wheel as he made the drive to the place—taken to Robert Fleitcher Memorial Hospital, the news had said, God only knew how long ago. There was a short argument with the bitch at the front desk before the protected information he already knew was finally disclosed.

Albert had been shot. In the side and the thigh, and the uneducated receptionist wasn't able to give him the crucial specifics that might give him an idea as to whether or not he would be attending a funeral or a hospital visit. Still in surgery. Another two hours, added to the four he'd already been on the table long before William knew.

His name was listed as next of kin, as he expected. Not like there was anyone else. It took him another hour after the conclusion of the operation to come into consciousness, an hour in which all William could do was stare at the IV line and the bloody drain tubing and the readings on the screen behind him while trying to assemble his mind into something coherent.

At last Albert opened his eyes, lifted his head. All at once the fear gave way to fury—how dare he? William had told him this was a horrid idea. ]

You fucking idiot.

Comments

[retroviridae]

I had a bite or two. Not hungry.

[ He saw no point in fabricating a more palatable truth—while Wesker had encouraged him to eat from time to time throughout the years, especially while he was trying to find a breakthrough to remind their staff of who they answered to when that Ashford girl came to the fore, he had never been overly pushy about it, which William appreciated. ]

Is your pain level manageable?

[viralgod]

[ Fair enough. At least he'd had a few bites of it. All things considered, he couldn't really blame William for not having an appetite. If their positions were reversed, he wouldn't want anything either.

Wesker was certainly in pain, but he didn't want more morphine just yet. It was nice to be awake for a little while, though he wasn't going to be as resistant to rest as he had been at the start. ]

It's fine, for now. I'm sure I'll need another dose soon enough.

[retroviridae]

Yes, undoubtedly.

[ William grimaced faintly, his lips a tight line. Yes, he probably would, an unwelcome reminder of how the dire situation was: sepsis aside, he wasn't out of the woods yet and wouldn't be for weeks, not with wounds that severe. He glanced downa t his hands for a moment.

Do you have any idea how scared I was? At all?

Probably not, considering that he'd had to make a show of not being scared. Sometimes he felt that Albert knew exactly how much his very existence meant to him; other times, he had to wonder (while simultaneously doing nothing to clarify).

Would he return to S.T.A.R.S. if he knew? If he could somehow empathically transfer the entire weight of the feeling, everything he'd experienced over the past 48 hours, every thought that had gone through his head? Probably, considering his independent streak. It was part of his appeal, unfortunately, that ability and willingness to strike out on his own and the lack of regard for anyone else's opinion. Sometimes William just wished that his own would be the exception. ]

I was worried. Last night.

[ Perhaps an ill-advised confession, and not one he'd given much thought to before he simply said it. ]

[viralgod]

[ As out of it as he'd been at the time, Wesker had been lucid enough to remember the night before. Looking back on it with his rational mind back, he could tell how frightened William was. Honestly, he would have felt the same if their positions were reversed.

But his friend's solution to all this would be to for him leave S.T.A.R.S.. For Wesker, that would be too much like admitting defeat. He had to not only come back from this, but to come back even stronger. It wasn't a matter of liking the job. It was a matter of personal pride. ]

I know you were.

[ He had been scared—thought he was going to die. That fear probably hadn't been very helpful for William, but his friend had done a very good job in providing him comfort. Wesker wasn't really sure how to adequately express his gratitude. He also wasn't very good at saying he was sorry, even though he shouldn't really have to. It was not his fault that he'd been shot.

Unsure of what else to do in this situation, Wesker held his hand out for William to take if he wanted. ]

[retroviridae]

[ William was dimly aware of the thin, almost invisible line he was opting to cross in this moment, taking the man's hand in broad daylight, long after the emergency had passed—but he also didn't care. It was a welcome comfort, and moreover, it felt like the most natural thing in the world, intertwining their fingers atop the white cotton bedsheets.

Albert's palm was warm, a little more than it should have been, reminding him of the fact that his temperature still hadn't returned to a normal range, merely a lower-grade fever—but even that was soothing, in its own way, simply by virtue of not being much, much hotter. He easily could have sustained brain or organ damage last night, as high as his fever ended up getting. One or two degrees more and his body itself would have become an intolerable environment for the very enzymes that regulated it.

He tried to find something to say and found that nothing he could draw up was satisfactory. Instead he just... sat there, holding his hands for several minutes in the quiet before hazarding a muted, ]

Tell me if you start to feel worse. ...I don't want to think about life without you.

[ Not unreasonable—they had led the majority of their lives in tandem by this point, numerically speaking, and the entirety of their time as virologists (even if that had come to an end, on Albert's side). The man's presence was inextricable from his time with Umbrella, in the laboratory, even his current self. ]

[viralgod]

[ When Wesker made the offer a part of him was concerned that William might not accept. It was out of the ordinary for them to share any kind of physical affection, but for now, Albert wanted them to have this moment. Now that he was lucid, it was a way to show his friend that he did care. Having the gesture rejected would have hurt.

He gently squeezed his friend's hand, both to reassure him and to convey that he understood how hard this was for him. ]

You don't need to think about that, Will. I'll be fine.

[ But that wasn't going to help. It was an empty promise that he could make no guarantees of keeping, so he made a promise that he knew he'd be able to keep. ]

I'll tell you if I feel any worse, or if I need anything.

[ Asking for help wasn't something that he liked to do, but he thought it might make William feel better if he made an exception here. At least for necessities. ]