Chrisker One-Shots

Ecstasy

Summary:

Chris Redfield finds himself at Wesker's mercy and the drug he was injected with is suddenly making him much more okay with Wesker's actions

Leaking grey walls and flicking lights from above were growing old to Chris. The brunet questioned anxiously exactly how long had he been here but the answer never came. The window to the outside world was small and high above the floor and as much as he tried to keep track of the days, his sleeping was off and he often found himself waking up at random times. Chris also found that, from what he could tell, nobody was watching him. Occasionally, he would awaken to a plate of something on the inside of the cell and after the first few days, Chris learned to eat it.

A cot in the corner was Chris' normal spot. He often sat or laid there as he questioned just why he wasn't being rescued. He entered the mission with Sheva by his side but where was she now? Why wasn't the BSAA sending out squads to help? If Jill were alive, he knew she wouldn't rest until he was found—like he should have done.

Thick iron bars stopped him from leaving the cell but the room beyond the bars was painfully dark. He never caught anyone coming through but he could hear mumbling and distant talking when the outside sounds were quiet enough. He tried to yell for the first few days but he grew exhausted and often would splash water on his face from the broken (but working) sink in the corner of the room.

The floor was dirt and he was sure he was still in Africa-- The heat was almost impossible but being stripped of his weapons and gear made it easier to deal with. He would often remove his t shirt and pants in attempt to clean them, and himself, in the sink but without soap he felt it was never really enough and, he realized dirt was much like sand in the fact that it was everywhere.

Chris found himself musing over how he ended up in this situation more often than not and came to the conclusion that he was getting too close to the truth. He and Sheva were on a trail that would lead him straight to where he needed to be—where so many answers would finally reveal themselves. And then when the Kijuju residents overwhelmed them—well, here he was.

Antsy was an understatement—Chris was miserable. His legs ached from the lack of movement, his stomach ached for actual food, his mouth was dry from lack of talking, and he was beginning to wish for death. He stopped counting at around eight days, maybe nine? He didn't even know. The lights went out around day six and he was now left in a deep, impenetrable darkness once night arose.

The brunet would lie in said darkness and listen to the rustling outside of animals and other things, he was sure. Chris would sometimes find his cheeks wet but he never remembers crying—he was just helpless and Christopher Redfield was not good in helpless situations.

Chris was a strong individual without a doubt and he was talented and skilled in ways others simply weren't—but Chris wasn't the most mentally capable person as of late. Losing Jill was his breaking point, really, and he had begun to question leaving the BSAA. Jill deserved more than what they gave—more than what he gave.

Tutting sounds from the shadows beyond his prison bars woke Chris. The noise was different from the usual sounds he heard putting him on immediate alarm. Chris shot up so fast that he was sure his pained back was strained as he jumped out of bed, barefoot on the dirt. Squinting into the darkness in an attempt to make out the distant humanoid figure barely visible, Chris remained at the ready.

"Hello, Christopher," the smooth, dark voice came from the darkness.

A chill stricken Christopher tilted his head in confusion—the voice struck a nerve somewhere deep within him. He recognized the voice, he was sure of it, but until the tall blond stepped into the little moon light streaming through the window and the cracks in the wall, Chris was at a loss.