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A man came to visit him today.

He had relearned his name through the nurses trying to speak with him.

"Albert," their soft voices tried to gently penetrate through the fog shrouding his mind. "Albert, can you hear me?"

He blinked a handful of times before furrowing his brows and giving a firm nod.

"This is Chris Redfield," the thin woman stepped back to gesture to a young man standing at the foot of his bed.
The blonde stared through him.

Just like with the family of blondes that had visited him the first six days of his reawakening; he didn't know these people and thus didn't care.

The young man was brown-eyed and had dark brunette hair. He was young because Wesker could just see the bulk of his muscles beginning to shine through his shirt. Wesker felt nothing the more he examined the younger man.

"And this is Jill Valentine." The nurse tried to smile as she gestured next to a young woman.

The woman was wearing a blue singlet, so Wesker believed that maybe it was warm weather outside. He wouldn't know, due to the fact that for whatever reason, they kept the blinds shut. He couldn't yet move his legs, let alone find the strength to actually move himself to get up. He wanted to see the outside world, but it would have to wait.

He was slightly more interested in this 'Jill' purely because she was wearing a singlet. The man was dressed in baggy, beige pants and a camo top. His blue eyes kept flicking back and forth between the pair as the nurse soon left, Chris began to talk.

"Hey Cap," the young man smiled, though Wesker could feel how guarded he was purely by the way that he held himself; arms folded, muscles in stiff bulk, remaining at least a meter away at all times throughout the conversation.

"Who are you," Wesker repeated himself for what he thought was the millionth time.

He was beginning to get frustrated at himself purely because he couldn't even remember the names of the family that kept visiting. The wife would always break down crying and had to leave the room. The husband just looked... Lost. Wesker couldn't fathom or place why - he'd never met this man. That blonde man with the blonde wife and little girl was a complete stranger to him. They all were.

Wesker glared past Jill's shoulder to stare hard at the wall.

"Where's the little girl?" He asked.

"What little girl?" Jill leaned forward, her doe-like face softening as she tried a gentle approach. The doctors had told everyone that he couldn't remember anything.

Four months earlier, Wesker had been found in a cargo bay, face down and pissing blood out from the right side of his head. He'd been on duty when he'd been ambushed and savagely shot in the head; missing his temple by centimeters. He was lucky to be alive.

Not all of the RPD had visited him yet - the doctors had warned to take visitors slowly at first. They had hoped that by letting Wesker see and speak to his close friends and family it would trigger something to get him to remember. But for the last six days of his new conscious life, Wesker had stared right through William and Annette as if he didn't understand why they were there and who they were. Unbeknownst to Wesker, William had been crushed and Annette had been defeated.

Sherry, though, was some small hope.

When Wesker had seen her the first time, it had been nothing but cold indifference. He had stared at the little girl as she sobbed on his blanket, rattling on about how worried she was about nearly losing her uncle. Then he'd been yelled at by the husband. That had made Wesker feel uncomfortable so they left on the first day. On the second day, the husband apologised and the wife even brought Wesker some flowers, kissing him on the cheek with tears in her eyes.

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