Chapter Text
TO: CARLOS OLIVEIRA ([email protected])
FROM: JILL VALENTINE ([email protected])
Carlos.
Our mutual friends are making waves.
Any luck tracking them?
Jill Valentine
Founding Member, BSAA
Bioweapons Combat Specialist & Handler
TO: JILL VALENTINE ([email protected])
FROM: CARLOS OLIVEIRA ([email protected])
Hey, Jill!
Wanna chat about it over lunch?
On me, of course.
Carlos Oliveira
Founding Member, BSAA
Bioweapons Intel Specialist & Handler
Anti-Umbrella Taskforce
TO: CARLOS OLIVEIRA ([email protected])
FROM: JILL VALENTINE ([email protected])
No.
Status?
Jill Valentine
Founding Member, BSAA
Bioweapons Combat Specialist & Handler
TO: JILL VALENTINE ([email protected])
FROM: CARLOS OLIVEIRA ([email protected])
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, Supercop.
Minicop and his sugar daddy haven’t been spotted in a while. Last location we can place them is just north of Cincinnati on I-75 South. Scott Kennedy had his son declared dead- no funeral, just an obit and a life insurance payout. (See attached.)
Redfield’s credit cards all stopped pinging. Hard to tell if it’s strategic or an asset freeze due to the news.
Carlos Oliveira
Founding Member, BSAA
Bioweapons Intel Specialist & Handler
Anti-Umbrella Taskforce
ATTACHMENT: LEON OBITUARY.PDF
MID-MICHIGAN GAZETTE - OBITUARIES
LEON SCOTT KENNEDY
1977 - 1999
Leon Scott Kennedy, age 22, was declared deceased in the aftermath of recent events in Raccoon City.
Born in 1977 to Maria (dec.) and Scott Kennedy, Leon spent his early years dedicated to several extracurriculars, including varsity baseball and the Police Athletic League. Leon graduated from the Midwestern Police Academy in 1998 and had recently been appointed as a police officer with the Raccoon Police Department in Raccoon City.
Though his tenure was brief, Leon expressed an interest in public service and investigative work.
He is survived by his father, Scott Kennedy.
In accordance with family wishes, no services will be held.
TO: CARLOS OLIVEIRA ([email protected])
FROM: JILL VALENTINE ([email protected])
We need to find them before he does. This Vampirus thing is no joke, and if I know anything about Kennedy it’s that he’s weak to anything remotely powerful.
Any news on the decryption side of things?
Jill Valentine
Founding Member, BSAA
Bioweapons Combat Specialist & Handler
TO: JILL VALENTINE ([email protected])
FROM: CARLOS OLIVEIRA ([email protected])
No, I don’t speak code-monkey but they’re telling me R.P.D. used more serious encryption than Umbrella did. At least another two weeks on that, maybe more.
Probably why the backups were kept in the S.T.A.R.S. office.
We can talk about that more in person!!
Lunch?
Also, any word on the Claire lead?
Carlos Oliveira
Founding Member, BSAA
Bioweapons Intel Specialist & Handler
Anti-Umbrella Taskforce
TO: CARLOS OLIVEIRA ([email protected])
FROM: JILL VALENTINE ([email protected])
So insistent!
You can find me in my office, if you bring good intel I’ll let you buy me some takeout.
As far as Claire goes, she visited Chris’s ‘grave’ last week, so it doesn’t seem like she knows anything yet. Her nonprofit’s been sticking its nose into Raccoon City, though. I’ll be interested to see how her behavior changes when she sees Chris’s face plastered on the evening news.
Stupid Umbrella fucks don’t know what they’re up against.
Those two were scary before I knew they were bioweapons.
Jill Valentine
Founding Member, BSAA
Bioweapons Combat Specialist & Handler
TO: JILL VALENTINE ([email protected])
FROM: CARLOS OLIVEIRA ([email protected])
I’m not entirely convinced that statement was actually from Umbrella.
See you in thirty, have to wrap up some reports.
If we eat it in your office, can I put it on the UN’s tab?
Carlos Oliveira
Founding Member, BSAA
Bioweapons Intel Specialist & Handler
Anti-Umbrella Taskforce
TO: CARLOS OLIVEIRA ([email protected])
FROM: JILL VALENTINE ([email protected])
Cheap ass.
Jill Valentine
Founding Member, BSAA
Bioweapons Combat Specialist & Handler
“Leon, wake up!” Chris Redfield insisted, pushing Leon Kennedy’s shoulder hard to try and pull him from his deep sleep. He was still asleep with his head on Chris’s thigh, legs thrown haphazardly over the arm of the couch, like proximity to Chris was far more important than comfort.
“What?” Leon asked, groggy, hand coming up instinctively to his shoulder where he’d just been shoved.
Chris glanced from the TV back to Leon, and pointed at the TV, desperately trying to force Leon’s gaze to it.
“Breaking news from Umbrella Corporation, as they’ve broken their silence and released photos of who they say are the two domestic terrorists responsible for the outbreak in Raccoon City. Sources state that the two Raccoon City police officers had a longstanding vendetta against one of the company’s chief researchers, who has since been presumed dead in the attacks.”
Chris watched recognition dawn on Leon’s face, and then absolute horror.
“Is that us?” Leon asked, shooting up to a seated position and rubbing his eyes, like he might be able to make what he was seeing change.
On the TV were Chris and Leon’s R.P.D. I.D. photos, and names.
LEON SCOTT KENNEDY AND CHRISTOPHER REDFIELD
DO NOT APPROACH
SHOULD BE CONSIDERED ARMED AND DANGEROUS
“The suspects are still considered at large, and have been known to-“
“We’ve gotta fucking go, Leon.” Chris said, standing and immediately gathering everything in sight that belonged to them into his arms.
“Chris, what the fuck?” Leon asked, still seated, wide eyes fixed on his own face on the TV. “Where can we go?”
Chris could hardly focus on the way Leon’s heartbeat was picking up or the way the room smelled like sharp, sterile panic as he ran around, dumping armfuls of their belongings onto the couch in untidy piles.
“Leon, hurry up!”
“Chris!” Leon retorted. “Where are we going?”
Chris froze all at once in thought.
There was really only one place they could go.
He could think of only one place in the world where somebody would take him in without question.
Well, actually, there would probably be a lot of questions, but they wouldn’t be turned away, and that was the most important part.
“Don’t worry about it!” Chris barked. “Just get your shit and get it into the car.”
Leon stood at that, eyebrows raised.
Chris watched it play out on Leon’s face- the immediate don’t speak to me like that instinct followed by the realization that this was extremely serious.
“Domestic terrorists?” He asked, eyes still fixed on the T.V.- his face crumpled miserably. Chris grabbed the remote and flicked the screen off, prompting Leon to turn to him. “Chris, they hurt me- they- they made all those people sick.”
Chris turned, then, to Leon and approached, big hands landing on Leon’s turned-in shoulders. He softened his expression and exhaled, slow and as controlled as it could be given the way his heart was trying to jump out of his chest.
“Baby.” He said, a term of endearment saved only for when Leon’s utmost attention was warranted- or for when it slipped out uninvited. “I know. They need someone to pin it on.” Chris said, firm.
Leon looked up at him, eyes wide, scent flaring hard and antiseptic.
“And it was kind of our fault.” Chris continued.
Leon’s face only twisted worse at that, and he buried his face in Chris’s chest, breaths going ragged and uneven immediately.
“Leon, now is not the time, okay? Save the breakdown for the car, we’ve got a long drive.”
Leon frowned and pulled his head back, looking back up at Chris.
“How long? The Firebird needs an oil change.”
Chris blinked down at Leon, stunned by the audacity.
They were wanted men, and Leon cared about the car. Of course. He was 22, why wouldn’t he care about the car?
The car was really all he had left.
“Lee.” Chris said, cocking an eyebrow.
“I’m serious!” Leon insisted, clearly pulled from his panic by his concern about his beloved car- like if he didn’t cling to something normal he was going to come apart at the seams entirely. “It’s been making that noise- that ticking thing? And the alignment’s still fucked- you keep pulling right, and-“
“Ten hours.” Chris cut in, already moving again, leaving Leon standing in the middle of the room, stunned and angry.
“Ten hours!” Leon parroted, crossing his arms. “Absolutely n-“
“Give or take.” Chris said, biting the inside of his mouth as he did the mental math. It had been a long time since he’d been back there. “We’ll stop if we have to.”
“That’s-“ Leon cut himself off with a deep breath, trying to calm himself. ”Okay. Oil change when we stop. Please.”
Chris shook his head as he moved into the bedroom, swiping clothes from the drawers and closet and dumping them into a duffel bag.
“Fine! Whatever. Just start packing!” Chris snapped.
“Ten hours.” Leon said from the living room, quiet, to himself mostly- though privacy didn’t really exist between the two men. Chris could hear it all the same.
It was something measurable, at least. Ten hours to safety. Chris was thanking his lucky stars that he didn’t need to sleep. He could shoot straight there in eight if traffic held.
They’d, realistically, need to dump the Firebird now. If the plates got run, it would flag immediately. Dead man. Wanted man. Same name. He didn’t say anything about that yet, though. That would be a discussion for a calmer Leon.
He wondered distantly if Leon’s father was watching the news- if he would maybe go down for insurance fraud. He deserved to rot.
Chris brought his thoughts back, quickly, to the task at hand.
“Leon!” He called from the bedroom, opening every drawer, cabinet, and closet to make sure they weren’t leaving anything behind.
“Yeah?” Leon called back. Chris could hear rustling and shifting, meaning Leon had sprung into action as well.
“Grab the cooler from the car!”
Leon didn’t respond, but Chris heard the condo’s door open and close, meaning Leon had heard him.
They moved quickly in tandem, both of them silent and oscillating rapidly between white-hot fury and fear as they packed without care.
Chris kept the bond pulled taut the entire time, trying to keep Leon calm, though he could hear his heartbeat, rapid and skipping, and his breaths sounded strained and stressed.
“Chris?” Leon called from the living room as he returned.
“What?”
“Are you okay to drive? Ten whole hours? Need me to help?” Leon asked.
It wasn’t a genuine offer. Leon hated driving with Chris in the car- at his absolute best, Chris was a backseat driver. At his worst he was a pest, constantly complaining about how cramped the coupe was and changing Leon’s music, or halting it entirely. It was a transparent attempt at fishing for their destination.
If Chris told Leon where they were going, he’d refuse to go.
“I’ll be fine.” Chris said. “Just sleep in the passenger seat, I need you sharp when we get there.”
Leon groaned in frustration as Chris heard the fridge open, Leon furiously packing up blood bags.
“Where are we going?” Leon asked.
“Somewhere safe.” Chris said.
He hoped, at least, that it was safe. It was a last resort, something he was hoping to never have to do.
But, the fact was, the apartment was still in his name. Even after all these years, it had never been changed. So even if he had to strong-arm his way in, he had the rights to it. He knew the address by heart.
“Chris, you’ve had somewhere safe to go this whole time?” Leon asked, sounding a bit stunned and confused.
Chris could tell he was on the verge of a panic attack, holding it together with sheer will. He swallowed hard.
“I’ll explain when we get there, okay?”
“Chris-“
“You’re doing so well, Leon. Just keep packing up, and we’ll get out of here, okay?”
That stilled Leon for a moment, and he stopped talking and kept packing, sealing up the cooler with a soft grunt and moving to the hall closet where Chris kept the guns and documents.
It wasn’t long before they had the whole place packed, leaving only the furniture and amenities it had come with. Clutched in Leon’s hands were Chris’s old blanket and his brand new bag of CDs.
Chris moved towards the door, two backpacks and a duffel bag slung over his shoulders. Chris opened the door and stepped out, but stopped in his tracks as he didn’t hear Leon follow.
He was lingering in the doorway, cooler in tow, just staring at the room. His shoes were untied, his jacket uneven on his shoulders, the collar folded in awkwardly, and the look in his eyes was totally absent.
“We aren’t coming back here, are we?” Leon asked.
Chris frowned, and Leon’s arm tightened slightly around the paper bag tucked into the crook of it, wrinkling the paper.
It was the first place they’d felt normal in weeks. A tiny chunk of normalcy carved out for two sick, strange men.
“Leon.” Chris said. It was firm, but it wasn’t sharp or rude.
They wouldn’t be coming back, and things likely wouldn’t feel normal for a long, long time.
“Together, remember? Whatever comes next.”
Leon swallowed at that, nodding his head slowly.
“Please don’t let them take me.” Leon said, quiet.
“Not letting you out of my sight.” Chris replied. He meant it, now more than ever. “They’ll have to get through me first.”
That seemed to connect, but Leon only stilled further, body stiffening, heartbeat spiking.
“I’m so sorry. I never-“ Leon paused, pulling in a choked breath. “I ruined your life.”
Chris let his head fall back and his eyes close in silent frustration, his grip tightening on a bag strap. He was grateful that Leon was looking at the room and not at him.
He huffed and pulled himself back straight after a second’s hesitation.
“Yeah, my life was going great before you showed up.” He said, dry.
Leon looked at him with that, eyes still glassy, lips still pressed into a tight line, like he was holding something behind them.
“Real highlight reel.” Chris continued, shifting the bags on his shoulders. “Don’t flatter yourself. Let’s go.”
Leon let out a sharp exhale but followed, slowly and clumsily, blanket trailing behind him.
“So your life is ruined, but it wasn’t-“
“Leon, please.” Chris cut him off, a harsh whisper as they walked through the hall. “Please just be quiet.”
Leon didn’t reply.
Chris slowed, letting Leon walk ahead of him, if only to keep him in sight. He was struggling with the cooler and his arms full of things, and so Chris took the cooler as well, shifting the duffel to hang across his chest so he didn’t need to hold it.
“Hurry up.” He hissed. “We can’t be seen right now.”
Leon nodded and picked up the pace slightly, leading Chris out to the car. They dumped everything into the back seat and Leon handed the keys over to Chris solemnly.
Once they were on the road, Chris finally exhaled.
“My life is not ruined. You haven’t done anything wrong.” He said, finally. “I am grateful to have you in my life. I love you. Please stop making me remind you.”
Leon shrunk a bit in his seat.
“Sorry- I just… this is a lot.” He managed, jaw tight.
“Sure is.” Chris agreed.
He, too, was panicking. Badly. But his panic response had always been action, whereas Leon’s was paralyzed inaction.
Domestic terrorists? Vendetta against a researcher? It was insane. There was no way that even Umbrella had enough corporate goodwill to sell that story.
And yet, their faces were plastered on the news.
Chris, looking the exact same as the day he ‘died’ 21 years earlier, and Leon, less obviously frozen in time.
He was, however, pleased to hear that whichever supposed researcher they had a vendetta against was presumed dead.
He had a pretty good idea of who that might be.
“But we can take it. Didn’t think for a second there would be no consequences, just hoped we might have more time before they hit.” Chris said. “I swear, Leon. You’re safe. I will do anything to keep you safe.”
“Don’t say that, please.” Leon replied, small, eyes fixed out the windshield as they entered the highway. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Okay, so we protect each other then.” Chris said, a blatant lie. He’d lay down his life before allowing Leon to take a scratch for him. “But you have to be put together to protect me, so get some rest, okay? We’ll be on the road for a while.”
Leon nodded and shifted in his seat, pulling the lever to lay it back slightly.
Chris reached across the cramped interior and laid a hand on Leon’s thigh, squeezing it once.
“Chris.” Leon admonished. “It’s a manual.”
Chris scoffed.
“We’re on the highway.” He replied, incredulous. “Sorry for trying to comfort you.”
Leon huffed out a laugh at that.
“You can comfort me by being good to my car.” Leon said. Regardless of his words, he grabbed Chris’s hand and brought it to his face, leaving a gentle kiss there before leaning against it briefly. “I’m sorry, Chris.”
“Don’t be.” Chris said. “Just get some rest. Please.”
He gently pulled his hand away and put it back on the wheel.
“I love you too, also. Should’ve said that before.” Leon said, soft and sleepy. “Still not used to it.”
“Yeah.” Chris said. He cast a glance over to Leon before looking back to the road stretching ahead. “Me neither. Don’t worry about it.”
He really only said it when Leon was spiraling. Leon panicked less about his own life being interrupted and more about how badly he’d fucked Chris over.
He hadn’t done it intentionally. That was key.
He’d shown up bleeding on Chris’s doorstep and Chris had let him in.
That was it. That was the moment everything split.
Chris could trace it cleanly if he wanted to. That night. That decision. The bite. Letting him stay. Letting Leon pin him against the fridge and kiss him. Letting it keep going when it stopped making sense.
He could say he’d handled it wrong and taken advantage of Leon. He could say that he should’ve pushed him out or put him down before it turned into love.
Maybe all of that was true- but even if it was, none of it mattered anymore.
Chris’s grip on the wheel tightened, jaw tight.
The other truth of the matter was far worse.
If he had to do it all over again- if he blinked and woke up suddenly to a bleeding rookie on his doorstep- he wouldn’t change a single choice he’d made.
Not the bite, the aftermath, the sleepless nights, the bloodshed. Not the way his entire life had collapsed inward until it was just this one thing, this one person, this one constant presence he couldn’t step away from even if he tried.
Leon hadn’t ruined his life. He’d just changed it.
Everything else- work, routine, whatever the hell he’d been doing before, surviving, maybe- felt distant now. Secondary. Like something he’d been filling time with before he had something real to grasp in his bloodied hands.
Chris exhaled slowly, eyes flickering briefly back to Leon, whose eyes were calmly closed now, his heart rate slowing to something a little bit more sane.
It wasn’t healthy. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but that didn’t change anything.
If someone even touched Leon, there wasn’t a version of that scenario where he hesitated. Where he thought it through or picked the ‘right’ option and let it happen.
He’d burn it all down. Without a second thought. He’d done it once and he’d do it again. He’d stay on the run forever if it meant keeping the bright, bratty thing in the passenger seat smiling.
Leon Kennedy was a lot of things.
A problem, for starters. The reason they were in this mess. A flirtatious menace. A decent police officer.
Most of all, though, he was one of the very few things that truly mattered to Chris Redfield.
And God, Chris was so tired.
But not tired of Leon. Never tired of Leon. He couldn’t be if he tried.
And so he kept driving, because yes, Leon Kennedy showed up on Chris’s doorstep and fucked him over, badly. He’d rearranged his whole life without so much as asking or saying thank you.
But there was no undoing that now, and Chris realized very firmly that if he were given the opportunity to undo it, he wouldn’t.
Once the sun rose, they kept to the back roads- country frontage roads and old, forgotten state routes- avoiding anything with cameras or traffic he couldn’t control. The engine screamed the whole way, pushed harder than it should’ve been, but it held.
Time blurred. The sun moved through the sky, but he didn’t track it. Didn’t need to, just kept driving and kept the AC going to stop the summer sun from making the journey more miserable than it had to be. He kept his hands locked on the wheel and the gearshift, jaw set, eyes scanning constantly.
From the road, to the mirrors, to Leon, back to the road again.
He didn’t stop thinking, really, he just kept his brain dialed in on the only thing that really mattered.
They made it to their destination without being stopped. They’d only needed to stop for gas twice, luckily.
Leon had only woken up once, reaching lazily into the cooler in the back seat and collecting a blood bag, sucking it down and tucking the empty bag underneath the seat before going back to sleep. He hadn’t spoken, and Chris suspected that Leon had only done it to calm his own nerves. Leon didn’t smell like gasoline hunger whatsoever, but Chris always felt better after seeing him eat, especially after weeks of having to force him to do it.
It was a sweet gesture, and an important one whether Leon realized it or not. They were about to be in close quarters with a very alive human. Leon needed to be well fed and absolutely in control.
Chris pulled into the garage and parked in the empty spot sprayed with the numbers 306.
It was a beautiful building, a brownstone built in the twenties and owned entirely by the tenants- a rarity in New York City. Chris’s parents had purchased the apartment before the war with his father’s meager policeman’s salary. It didn’t have a parking garage back then- that came in the fifties.
Two bedrooms, a large ‘office’ space that they’d used as a third bedroom, an alley kitchen, and two parking spots. He was sure it was worth hundreds of thousands now for the parking spots alone.
Still, though, when his birthday cards or desperate letters arrived in the mail, they always had the same address on them.
It was technically his, inherited property after his father and mother had both passed on, but he’d never used it. He’d been passed around from orphanage to foster home to orphanage along with his sister, and by the time he was eighteen and he’d received the deed, the place just felt like a bad memory.
When she'd aged out, he’d given her the keys and told her to do whatever she wanted with it, but even after his official death she’d never done any paperwork on it. Just quietly kept the taxes paid and left the apartment in a dead man’s name.
“Leon, wake up, we’re here.” Chris said.
Leon groaned, turning his face further into the seat, one arm coming up to shield his eyes.
“Tired.” Leon muttered, still completely and utterly asleep.
Chris huffed, stretching as much as he could in the tiny, low coupe.
Leon didn’t wake all at once. He never did. He surfaced slowly, like something coming up from deep water. First his breathing shifted, then muscle pulled slowly under skin, then his brows creased slightly as consciousness started to catch.
His hair was a mess- worse than usual. Flattened on one side from the seat, curling the wrong way at the ends, sticking up and catching light from the windshield like they had a mind of their own.
Chris’s hand landed gently on Leon’s shoulder.
“C’mon, Lee.”
Leon made a soft sound that was half complaint, and half consciousness slipping back into place, and turned his face further into the seat like he might be able to burrow away from the harsh world that had decided he was an enemy entirely. His mouth parted slightly and his lashes fluttered against closed eyes like he was fighting to wake up, or maybe stay asleep.
Leon looked younger like this. Not in a fragile way. Not weak. Just unarmored. The usual sharp awareness he kept about him dulled just enough that Chris could see a glimpse of the very lively rookie who used to flirt with him and leave personal research books on his cluttered, messy desk.
Leon flinched and opened his eyes, slow and unfocused. Blue, but dulled with sleep, like he wasn’t truly awake yet. He blinked once, squinting against the harsh incandescent lighting of the parking garage, trying to piece together where he was.
And then it was gone.
The soft, sleepy Leon was gone and sudden awareness flooded into him. He straightened all at once, eyes sharpening as his predator senses flooded him all at once.
Chris felt something in his chest pull, sharp and immediate.
The bond, yes, as Leon became wholly aware of his presence, but also something deeper than that.
He had wanted to freeze it there. That in-between moment where Leon was soft and felt safe and didn’t quite remember what the world demanded of him.
The Leon that didn’t look at Chris like he was something to depend on or fear- the one that just looked at him with adoration in those bright blue eyes.
Chris swallowed his grief as Leon opened his mouth to speak.
“Where are we?” Leon asked, voice still thick with sleep.
Chris didn’t answer.
Leon blinked blearily, turning towards the window, confused by the concrete on concrete surroundings, clearly.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly, which Chris had learned long ago was the tell for when Leon was listening intently.
“Chris,” Leon started after a second, voice tight. “Are we in a city?”
“Yeah.” Chris confirmed.
Leon’s eyes snapped open.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Chris winced.
“It’s all I can hear- cars, traffic, yelling, footsteps, so many heartbeats they’re all blending together.” Leon dragged a hand down his face as he spoke, agitated. “We’re wanted men and you bring us- what- to New York?”
Chris grimaced.
“Good guess.” He muttered.
“NEW YORK?” Leon hissed, eyes wide, brows pulled together, voice coming down to a harsh whisper. “Chris, people here know you. You only left… what, twenty years ago? Twenty-two?”
“That’s the point.” Chris sighed out, pinching the bridge of his nose. The scent of sharp citrus peel flared through the car.
“Chris, we were on the ABC Evening News, and you think New York is a safe place to be? Are you- What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Leon, relax, I wouldn’t bring you here if it wasn’t safe.” Chris said, reaching for the door handle to get out. Leon lunged over and grabbed his arm, fingernails biting flesh.
“Christopher Redfield, if you step foot outside this Firebird I swear to God.“
Chris stilled at that.
Christopher? Bold.
He glanced to Leon, one brow ticking up despite himself.
“Leon, it’s a hell of a lot safer where we’re going than it is to sit in this garage.“ Chris said.
“And where is it we’re going?” Leon asked, not letting go of Chris’s arm.
Chris hesitated.
There was silence between them for a moment, and Leon blinked slowly, clearly putting two and two together.
“Don’t tell me-“ Leon started.
“Leon.” Chris cut in. “Listen to me. Just follow me, and let me do the talking, okay?”
Leon gripped Chris’s arm a little tighter.
“Chris, I would rather go back to Raccoon City and sleep in the smoking crater than do this right now.”
Chris huffed.
He felt the same way, but they were out of options.
He wrestled free of Leon’s grip and opened the car door.
“C’mon. Hurry up.” Chris insisted.
Leon stepped out of the car apprehensively and flipped the hood of his sweatshirt up, as if he might be able to hide from what he suspected was coming.
Chris felt like he was walking through a past life as they walked through the garage. Every step echoed sharp against the concrete, the sound bouncing off pillars and cars and echoing through the cavernous space.
He walked with purpose.
“Stay close.” He muttered, already moving towards the stairwell. Leon grabbed his hand and Chris gripped it tightly, more for himself than to comfort Leon.
This was ridiculous. He knew it was ridiculous. An absolute Hail Mary.
The stairwell door creaked when he pushed it open.
Stale air hit him- old paint, dust, something cooking in an apartment. Lived-in. Normal.
Better than empty.
Leon hesitated behind him and Chris slowed, tugging on the bond as if to physically pull Leon along.
“Chris.”
“Keep moving, Lee.” Chris said. “Head down.”
He took the stairs two at a time. Leon still trailing slightly behind, hand clasped desperately in Chris’s, cold and shaking.
They made it to the third floor without incident and Chris slowed as he pushed the door open. He glanced around the corner before walking down the hall, making sure there was nobody lingering, no doors opening or closing.
“This is a terrible idea.” Leon muttered under his breath.
“Probably.” Chris confirmed, low and rough. “Got a better one?”
Leon didn’t answer.
Door 306 loomed ahead at the end of the hall. Chris stilled in front of it.
It was a door he didn’t ever care to see again. One he stayed far away from on purpose- to keep its occupant safe. It was familiar, but only distantly so. Like something he’d memorized in a different lifetime.
Leon shifted behind him slightly, nervous, scent still sharp with bitter citrus anger but layered with fear now, too.
“Nothing to be scared of.” Chris whispered, to himself or to Leon he wasn’t entirely sure.
He shook his hand free of Leon’s grip, reached up, and knocked. Three sharp raps, like he was still an on-duty cop and not a wanted parasite host on the run.
Leon went still behind him and the bond between them was desperately tight, both of them leaning on it.
There was noise on the other side of the door. A book closing, the shift of fabric against leather, and then footsteps. Light, bare feet on tile.
Leon’s fingers found Chris’s belt loop. Chris felt it and didn’t correct Leon.
The lock turned and the door opened, revealing a woman who looked more irritated than she did surprised or excited.
She wore her hair tied back in a tight ponytail, only a few hairs around her face loose, framing it. It was a brilliant red color with fine strands of silver threaded through like frost on copper piping.
She looked good, like life hadn’t slowed her down yet.
She was dressed well- pressed slacks, a fitted blouse, sleeves rolled. Nothing flashy, but well-tailored. Expensive in a way that wasn’t obvious unless you knew what to look for.
Her eyes were sharp and watchful, and despite her irritated expression, they carried something soft- almost like grief.
She smelled like a cold winter’s day, with something sharp and burnt threading through it. Gunpowder, maybe, or motor oil. Chris didn’t pay it much mind. She also smelled aggressively of life- that coppery scent that made Chris’s mouth water involuntarily.
He was disgusted with himself for that, but he filed it away as instinct and swallowed hard.
She was older now than Chris would ever be.
“Hiya, Claire.” He said, giving a weak, half-hearted wave.
Claire Redfield rolled her eyes.
“Get inside. Now.”