@Tlazolteotl

Charlie had a surprised look on her face yet she understood what the bartender was saying. The original William Birkin and the clone. In many ways, they were different people. And, yet, they were the same. It reminded her of the old "Ship Of Theseus" paradox. If you gradually replaced the parts of a ship over time, would it still be the same ship?

That same paradox could be applied to people. To Charlie, the answer was simple. Yes and no. People grow, change, cells form and die, skin and hair is shed. Yet, that didn't completely change who they are. If anything, it helped to shape them, hone their traits. In the end, for everything that changed, there were things that were undeniably them.

The bartender's words also applied to people's perspective of William. To those like Leon Kennedy and Claire Redfield, he was little more than a mindless beast. Sherry saw him as a neglectful father. Umbrella saw him as both a brilliant researcher and disposable at the same time.

Charlie's Will had the memories of the original. Had his personality. Had his features. But, there were differences. Those proverbial piece of a ship that were replaced. Her Will could control his forms. He could willingly shift between forms, from human to quadrupedal beast with massive teeth to a tentacled blob that was mostly muscle and fat. Neither monster nor human, but something else. Something new yet familiar.

Golgotha. That was the name they decided for what Birkin and his offspring would be called. She was aware of how grotesque others saw his other forms. But, to her, he was still Will. He was still her friend, her work partner, her....

"Will?" she asked Birkin, "Is....Is that really you? I mean, you're not just some weird bar hallucination, or I'm not drunk and imagining things? If it's really you...we need to talk. There's something I need to tell you..."

Charlie braced herself for whatever response William was about to say. She silently hoped it was really him. That she had found him again after all that time.

"Sure as hell." He laughs and repeats the phrase again before downing the glass. "Sure as hell..." The liquid burns the back of his throat and he's left crunching ice. He rests a hand on the counter, fingers mindlessly tapping against the surface. "What's this place called? All my life in towns 'n' I ain't ever see a bar so..."

He takes another look around, eyes scanning over the anxious girl in the corner and Teresa sitting a few seats away from him, then back to the other customers. Wasn't like the other bars he's been too, not too much fighting going on; no rowdy customers overstaying their welcome or yelling. More importantly, he wasn't being called to break up a fight or two.

"Refined." He sets the empty glass back on the counter. "Never seen a bar so refined in all my years of livin'."

He overhears a bit of Teresa's conversation and returns his attention to the bartender. "So, this some kinda after-life?--Purgatory, as they say. Would make sense as to why everyone's so calm, no point in fightin' when you're already dead.... Figured if I ended up anywhere, it'd be six-feet under and burnin' dead."

@Tlazolteotl

The realization hit Charlie hard. She had to tell him now or she would never be able to. With that, she took a deep breath and braced herself for whatever happened next.

"I love you." she confessed, "You're the best thing that's happened to me for so long. Monster, human, Golgotha, all of you. Whether you're a clone or the original, you're still Birkin. You're my friend, my partner. Please, let me love you."

Charlie gulped hard. The look of apprehension and hope were clear on her face. She felt relief for finally being able to confess how she felt to Birkin, yet she was also terrified of what he might say.

@Tlazolteotl

Charlie chuckled in response. Not one of mockery, but of reassurance.

"You had the same response when you found out you were pregnant." she pointed out as she placed her hand on his gut, "Oh, and you still look good with a dad bod."

She then wrapped her arms around him. It was such a simple gesture, a hug, but it said more than any words ever could. Charlie smiled as she felt Birkin's flab squish against her body.

"I love you." Charlie repeated with absolute certainty in her voice while gently brushing the tears from his eyes.

@Tlazolteotl

"Of course I'll find you." Charlie nodded reassuringly, "I just need to know where to look. In the meantime, stay out of trouble, and try to keep that cute little belly of yours. You always were self conscious about your weight. If you ask me, you look better with that pudge."

She hugged him again and kissed him on the cheek. Charlie then turned her attention to the bartender. She felt a proverbial weight lifted from her shoulders and was ready to face whatever came her way.

"Thank you. Um, before I go, if I can go, do I need to pay you?" she asked.

@Tlazolteotl

"I won't. And, thank you, again." Charlie nodded.

She then gets up and makes her way to the entrance of the bar and goes through the door. Part of her is nervous to what awaits her, but part of her feels reassured that things will be ok. That, at the very least, she no longer has to face them alone.

"You flatter me, lady." Morgan lets out a genuine chuckle. "But there's some kinda catch, ain't there?"

He blinks.

The bar is gone, replaced with a booming club venue. Sirpa and Teresa are nearby, he notes them for a moment before focusing on the lone man drinking at a table a little further away. He lets out a sigh--had his arms been natural, he'd have stretched, crack his joints a bit; he settled on popping his neck.

"Always a catch..."

He listens to the employee. Figure out another person's catharsis to get out. Seemed simple enough. Just talk to the man at the table, get it over with, and go back to his little purgatory... Clubs, bars, wherever the hell; they all gave him bad memories. His shoulders tense, metallic fingers constantly furling and unfurling in anticipation, but nothing comes of it.

He turns to Sirpa with a look of concern, hand extended. He never liked the look of scared people. "You alright there, little lady? Ain't nothin' to be afraid of in here."

"Plenty 'o' folks to keep you safe." He gestures to Teresa and eyes the crowd again. They're lost in the moment--a dancing mass moving with the beat; there's only a single outlier sitting by his lonesome, still there, still drinking. "Doesn't look like a fight'll break out anyhow."