Chapter Text
The bar was packed to the brim. The air was almost unbreathable and seemed to have solidified around the people. It was difficult to move without noticing the various scents wafting through the room. The sour smell of beer dominated, mingling with the sweat of the people crammed into the poorly ventilated space. Luckily, every time the door opened, the damp smell of the street seeped in. The voices of the people overlapped with the rock music filling the place, clashing amid laughter and conversation with the occasional sharp clack of pool balls in the background.
Chris picked up on it all without meaning to, as usual, but tried not to pay too much attention.
His group was sitting at a table in the back. There, they had just enough privacy to talk without raising their voices too much. This way, they could avoid being right next to the rest of the crowd. Claire leaned toward Leon as she talked to him about a story from work, gesturing with her hands. There was a playful sparkle in her eyes as she told the story. Her sister always seemed younger than she was with her fun and pleasant demeanor.
Leon burst out laughing when he heard her story.
Leon's laughter sounded natural and simple, warming Chris’s heart. In moments like that, there was something about Leon’s expression that left Chris spellbound. He couldn't help but keep his gaze fixed on him for too long. Seeing Leon so relaxed, without the tension he usually carried during missions, was a gift. A treasure. A faint smile appeared on Chris’s lips. He wouldn’t trade these moments for anything in the world. He paused for a second, savoring that ordinary moment that meant everything to him.
Since Alcatraz, meeting up at a bar like this had become routine. It was how the four of them —Jill, Claire, Leon, and himself— stayed connected. They had agreed not to lose sight of each other for too long, even though their lives constantly pulled them in different directions. At least once a month. If the missions allowed it, they met more than once.
Chris valued those moments more than anything. They were a way for them to connect normally. As if they were just four civilians hanging out after work. Without BOWS, bioterrorist attacks, or suicide missions.
The heat it caused was gradual, spreading slowly from his chest to the rest of his body—a solid, recognizable sensation. His alpha instinct responded with an almost primal clarity: his pack was complete.
Or almost. Jill's absence was noticeable, even without mentioning her name. It had only been two days since she was assigned to the Canadian border to follow up on a case involving missing omegas. She had been chasing this case for too long to let it slip away now. Chris knew she'd be fine —if anyone could handle it, she could— but there was still something missing at the table, a space that wouldn't quite fill up.
Still, he allowed himself to enjoy what was there:
Claire was now laughing at her own story and leaning back in her chair. He was grateful to have his sister; she was his whole world.
And Leon.
His eyes returned to him with an ease that he no longer questioned.
He looked better.
This wasn't just a superficial impression, nor could it be attributed to the lighting or contrast with the last time he'd seen him. There was something different about the way he moved and held himself. He was more grounded and present. His muscles were more defined under his clothes, but that wasn't all. There was no trace of the constant tension Chris remembered from Colorado, the feeling that he might break under his own weight at any moment.
He had also stopped drinking.
That detail had surprised him the most, and, if he was honest with himself, it had given him the most satisfaction. He perfectly remembered Leon's broad, proud smile when he told him. It was as if he needed to say it out loud to fully believe it. A year and two months without a single drop.
Chris had nodded seriously, but inside, something shifted in a way that didn't quite make sense. He was proud of him, much more than he probably should have been.
He knew Leon was a beta. Ever since Claire told him about the rookie cop who helped her in Raccoon City, he'd known it. Leon confirmed it years later when they met in person. Still, it hadn't made a difference. Nothing had changed. Not what his inner alpha thought, nor what he felt. He lost track of time, but he remembers the moment he realized it was more than admiration, respect, or camaraderie. There was something more persistent and harder to ignore. He never did anything about it. He never took a step he couldn't undo later.
At the base, his teammate's voices were constant. They gave him unsolicited advice, half-hearted jokes, and increasingly obvious hints that he should find a good omega, settle down, and build a stable life. Have a place to come home to.
He was a sought-after alpha, but he never responded much because he knew it wasn't going to happen.
The only family he needed was already there, sitting across from him. As for the rest, it didn't make sense unless it was with the one person with whom he apparently didn't stand a chance.
Leon had never hinted at anything.
Chris didn't care about his own gender, but he didn't want to lose their relationship if the man didn't feel the same way. He was a good friend. He was almost flirtatious in his own way. But he was like that with everyone, it didn't mean anything. With the history of conquests attributed to him —or at least, the one he carried— Chris had no reason to think it was any different.
Still, a fleeting thought crossed his mind and dug in sharply and irritatingly: he probably already had someone close to him. Someone Leon turned to when he needed companionship. Someone who wasn't Chris. Jealousy struck like a brief but hard-to-ignore pang. He looked away for a second, trying to compose himself before it became obvious. Then, as always when that memory surfaced, he returned to it.
New York.
Their first job together. The chaos of the city, the pressure, the tension in the hallway filled with infected people. Amid all that, something distracted him.
A smell.
At first, it was subtle and hard to pinpoint. But it became more noticeable over time.
Jasmine.
It wasn't an artificial fragrance but something deeper and warmer. It was intertwined with sandalwood and a faint trace of whiskey that seemed to cling to the skin. The scent wasn't overpowering, it didn't fill the space the way an Alpha's scent would, but it had a distinct quality. It was intoxicating. Chris had noticed it more than he wanted to admit. Enough so that throughout the entire mission, the scent remained etched in his memory, impossible to ignore or fully explain. He'd assumed it was a perfume or perhaps someone close to Leon's. But he never sensed it again, he next few times, nothing.
Not a trace.
His absence left him with a strange, uncomfortable feeling, as if he had lost something he didn't know he was looking for. Deep down, he'd come to think —though he'd never admit it— that he would have preferred for Leon to be an omega. This thought slipped through his mind just as quickly as he tried to push it away. Chris knew deep down that none of that mattered. Even if Leon was just a beta and didn't feel the same way, his desire to protect him was real. It was a need that grew from the deepest part of his being, seeping outward without permission and drowning out all other feelings.
"Chris, are you listening?"
Claire's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
He blinked and refocused on the table, the bar, and the moment.
"Sorry…"
"Daydreaming?" Leon chimed in. "Is our oldest Redfield in love?"
Leon winked at him, and his half-smile —never quite innocent— lingered a second longer than necessary.
Chris felt the heat rise up his neck with treacherous speed, too sudden to hide completely. He clenched his jaw slightly and averted his gaze to his nearly empty glass, as if he'd found something interesting at the bottom.
"Don't start," he muttered in an indifferent tone meant to sound carefree, but it didn't quite succeed.
Claire let out a soft laugh and rested her elbow on the table. She watched them both, her expression wavering between amusement and suspicion.
"Oh, come on," she added, turning to Leon. "He hasn't heard a word I've said in the last five minutes. That can only mean two things.”
"I'm tired," Chris interrupted.
Claire and Leon had always gotten along too well for his own good. When they were together, the jokes were endless. Unfortunately, Chris was usually the target of them all.
"Or he's distracted," Claire continued, ignoring him, "and when Chris gets distracted, it's usually for a specific reason."
Leon tilted his head slightly and rested his forearm on the table, moving close enough to invade the personal space that had never been defined between them.
"Is it me or not?" he asked calmly. "I'd like to know."
Chris looked up and met Leon's gaze. A chill ran down his spine. It was all too easy to get caught up in it. With Leon, the line between mockery and sincerity was always blurred.
"Not everything revolves around you, Kennedy," he retorted, feigning indifference.
"Mm," Leon held his gaze for another second, as if weighing something unsaid, "That sounds like a yes."
Claire laughed again, shaking her head.
"Definitely yes."
Chris shot his sister a betrayed look, which she ignored. He exhaled through his nose, resigned. He leaned back against the chair and ran a hand through his hair, more to give himself a moment than for any other reason.
"I need another beer," he said decisively.
"And I'll have another soda," Leon added immediately, getting up before Claire could say anything. "Let's go."
Claire watched them with a slightly raised eyebrow.
"Bring me another beer while you're at it."
Chris nodded and stood up. He felt the atmosphere shift slightly as he moved through the crowd. The bar's stifling heat enveloped him once more as they made their way to the bar.
For a few seconds, they said nothing.
The noise was louder there, and the voices sounded closer. Bodies brushed against each other as people passed by. Chris let his senses readjust automatically. Sometimes, having such keen senses was more of a hindrance than a help. He was nearing his mandatory rut period. The BSAA had warned him that abusing suppressants for long periods of time was unhealthy and that he should take regular breaks. Chris had stopped taking them to comply with the regulations, but he had no idea how he was going to survive this one. His last rut had been almost a year ago, and he had spent it alone, locked up at home. It had been a terrible experience.
He never got involved with any omegas. Unfortunately, his body only reacted to Leon.
Now, he could feel his most primal instincts beginning to surface little by little, settling beneath his skin. They were ready to burst forth as soon as his body was ready. The smells mingled and overwhelmed him. Being in that crowded bar with Leon constantly by his side didn't help either.
Almost without meaning to, he tried again.
It was subtle, not at all obvious. He wasn't even fully aware of it. He inhaled slowly. It was a subtle change in his breathing; he held his breath a second longer, filtering through everything else and searching for something that shouldn't be there: Jasmine, sandalwood. That warm, slightly intoxicating scent he remembered all too well, the one that had bewitched him.
But there was nothing.
Just beer, stale sweat, smoke, and spilled alcohol. Along with Leon's neutral scent, clean, nothing particularly standing out from the rest. Chris frowned slightly, just enough for it to be noticeable if anyone were watching him closely.
"Looking for something?" Leon asked from his side, closer than Chris had expected.
Chris turned his head just enough to look at Leon, who was watching him with that same relaxed but attentive expression.
"No."
Leon raised an eyebrow slightly.
Chris looked away toward the bar just as the bartender approached and ordered the drinks quickly. He felt Leon move close enough to invade his personal space again without actually touching him.
"You know that what you're doing..." Leon lowered his voice slightly, just enough so that it remained between them "isn't exactly discreet."
Chris tensed his shoulders slightly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I see."
There was a brief pause, too heavy with tension to be casual.
"Do you always analyze everyone like that?" Leon asked after a moment, leaning toward Chris as if the noise in the bar forced him to close the distance. "Or do I get special treatment?"
Chris let out a small exhalation—half a dry laugh, half a warning.
"Don't get your hopes up, Kennedy."
"It's too late for that, Redfield."
His reply was immediate, soft, and effortless.
Chris looked at him again. For a second, something in Leon's expression didn't quite match the light tone of his words. Then, whatever it was vanished. The waiter set the beers and soda down in front of them, breaking the moment. Chris paid without saying another word, took the glasses, and turned toward the table. Leon stepped aside just enough to let Chris pass but brushed his arm lightly as he did so. It was minimal contact, probably accidental.
Probably.
Chris didn't react, but the gesture was etched into his skin, the heat spreading through his entire body. Sometimes he didn't understand Leon's behavior.
Claire greeted them with an expectant smile and took her drink as soon as Chris set it down in front of her.
"What took you so long?"
"Chris was thinking," Leon answered for him, sitting down with an insulting nonchalance.
"That's never a good sign," Claire added.
Chris shook his head and brought the beer to his lips, avoiding an immediate answer. The conversation resumed, but something had changed. It wasn't the lighthearted topics, but the way Leon spoke. He made little remarks, exchanged glances that lingered half a second longer, and used an ambiguous tone that was neither serious nor a joke. This left Chris constantly on the verge of something indefinable, leaving him completely baffled.
When Leon set his glass down on the table for the third time without finishing it, Chris realized that Leon was teasing him. Maybe he'd realized how Chris felt about him and was messing with him.
"I'm going to the bathroom for a moment," he said, getting up before anyone could stop him.
"Everything okay?" Claire asked, frowning slightly.
"Yeah, don't worry."
He didn't wait for an answer.
He pushed his way through the crowd again, this time faster, as if he needed to get out before the air became too stifling. The bathroom was quiet and fresh. The contrast hit him the moment he closed the door.
He leaned against the sink for a moment, tilting his head downward and exhaling slowly to steady his breathing. The noise from the bar drifted in, muffled and distant. He turned on the faucet, letting the water run for a few seconds, before cupping his hands over his face and letting the cold wash over him.
Chris was sure the heat he felt wasn't from the beer. He looked up at the mirror and met his own reflection. He looked tense, more than he wanted to admit. His deadline was too close.
He exhaled slowly, resting both hands on the edge of the sink.
"Damn..." he muttered under his breath.
As if saying it out loud would clarify anything, but it didn't. Deep down, Chris already knew exactly what the problem was.
He was sitting at his table.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, the change in temperature hit him again, enveloping him in a thick mix of body heat, alcohol, and noise that clung to his skin. The bar's murmur enveloped him instantly. This time, though, he didn't stop to process it. He pushed through the crowd with more direct momentum. He still felt the echo of the cold water on his face, and he had the vague sensation that he hadn't cleared his head as much as he'd hoped. Nevertheless, he had pulled himself together enough to appear in control.
When his gaze fell on his table, he saw Claire's familiar silhouette leaning slightly forward and laughing. Then he saw Leon turned to one side, listening to someone not part of the usual small circle. The man stood close enough to invade Leon's space without touching him. He exuded a carefree confidence that Chris recognized all too well. Tall, well-built, and broad-shouldered, it took Chris no more than a fraction of a second to identify the obvious:
Alpha.
He couldn't hear the conversation, but his inner Alpha could picture it perfectly. An annoying twinge squeezed his chest. By the time Chris reached the table, the man was already stepping away with a smile meant to seem easygoing. From a distance, it seemed to have elicited at least a polite response. He lightly patted the back of Leon's chair —a gesture bordering on the familiar— and walked away through the crowd without looking back.
Chris paused for just a second before sitting down.
The gesture was minimal, but it was enough to make something inside him tense up again—that low, deep pulse that had nothing to do with logic or what he was supposed to care about.
He took his seat without saying a word, took a long sip, and then set the glass down on the table with more care than necessary. It was as if that small act of control could make up for what didn't quite fit inside him. His gaze shifted from Claire to Leon and back, unconsciously gauging their expressions—the remnants of an interaction he'd arrived too late to witness.
"What did he want?" he finally asked, his tone falling short of neutral.
Claire looked at him immediately.
The smile that formed on her lips was neither discreet nor subtle. There was something in her bright, slightly clouded eyes —perfectly polished despite the alcohol— that made it clear she had seen more than she was going to say out loud.
"Do you really want me to tell you?" she replied, leaning forward slightly and resting her chin on her hand.
Chris frowned slightly.
"Claire."
She let out a small laugh and shook her head.
"Relax. I was just trying to pick someone up," she said. There was a brief pause, long enough for the meaning to hit him full force. “Though not me. Leon was thought to be an omega."
The silence in his mind was absolute, even though the bar continued to roar around them. That sentence had completely thrown him off balance, pushing his remaining composure to its limits.
Leon snorted. It wasn't a gesture of discomfort but rather something closer to mockery, that light rejection he used when something struck him as more absurd than offensive. He raised his glass to his lips and took a sip of soda with studied calm, as if the scene didn't deserve any more attention than necessary. But he didn't take his eyes off Chris for a second. There was something about the way he held his gaze while drinking and how the corner of his mouth curved just enough to hint at something unsaid that made Chris's initial question seem inadequate.
Chris felt a lump in his throat.
"And what did you tell him?" Chris asked, not looking away, his tone drop a notch, becoming deeper.
Leon carefully set the glass down on the table, resting his fingers around the rim without letting go completely, and licked his lips.
"That I wasn't his type," he replied with a nonchalance that didn't clarify anything.
Claire raised her eyebrows, clearly amused.
"That's not exactly what happened."
"That's a summary," Leon replied without looking at her, still focused on Chris.
"You kept up the conversation for a while," Claire added, leaning back. "Long enough for him to think he had a chance."
Leon tilted his head slightly.
"Don't be dramatic."
"I'm not," Claire smiled. "I'm just saying, you didn't reject him right away."
Chris let out a brief sigh. He rested his elbow on the table, interlaced his fingers in front of his drink, and watched Leon with an intensity he no longer bothered to hide.
"Why?"
The question was more direct than he intended.
Leon didn't answer right away. His fingers played briefly with the rim of the glass, brushing against the cold condensation, before he looked up again.
"Why? What?"
"Why did you play along if you weren't interested?" Chris clarified, holding his gaze.
Leon let out a sly smile. It seemed as if hearing Chris’s question piqued his interest more than answering it did.
"Does that bother you?"
Claire let out a stifled laugh and turned her head slightly, as if she needed to look away for a moment to avoid interfering.
Chris had a thousand answers ready in his head, all of them confident and easy to defend. However, none of them came out of his mouth. Nothing seemed to fit the situation.
"It's not that," he finally said.
"Of course not," Leon murmured. He leaned back in his chair, not taking his eyes off Chris. He ran his tongue over his damp lips from the drink.
Chris felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine when he sensed Leon’s tongue moving. Leon’s tone was different this time. Chris noticed it. Without meaning to, he took another step forward to press the issue.
"That guy thought you were an omega," he added. Chris needed to steer the conversation toward something more specific. "And you didn't correct him."
Leon shrugged slightly, as if he didn't care.
"So?"
"That's not something people usually assume without reason."
"People assume a lot of things. That doesn't mean they're right," Leon replied calmly.
Chris tilted his head slightly and studied Leon more closely. He needed to try to piece things together in that situation.
"Maybe," he said slowly. "But sometimes...they come close enough."
The air was filled with an undeniable tension, a palpable rift growing between them. Claire stopped laughing and didn't dare intervene. Instead, she turned her attention back to them. She was now more aware of what was really going on.
They both looked as if they were locked in an internal struggle. Neither of them looking away.
"What are you implying, Chris?"
There was a nuance to the question that Chris didn't pick up on. It wasn't a provocation or one of Leon's usual cheap jokes. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that Leon might be testing him. It was as if Leon wanted to know how far Chris was willing to go.
Chris held Leon's gaze. His heart was still pounding. His mind was racing.
The noise from the bar —the voices and music— faded into the background and became unrecognizable. Everything boiled down to that silent exchange between the two of them. Their gazes. The stillness of their bodies. There was something else there, an insistence that weighed on his chest like a tightening knot. It was the same suspicion that had begun in New York and never gone away. Despite his attempts to bury it under layers of logic and what he believed to be the truth, it persisted. Leon was a beta, and he always had been. That was what he had told Chris himself. Chris had no reason to doubt him, except for the memory that never faded.
The scent.
It had been different. It had body and depth—a quality that didn't simply fade with time. Warm jasmine close to the skin. Sandalwood anchored everything with a firm base. A subtle hint of vanilla enveloping everything else. And that faint but persistent trace of whiskey, as if it were part of him. He had felt it too much, more than he wanted to admit. Throughout the entire mission, he struggled to focus on anything other than the invisible thread that drew him back to Leon again and again. This thread forced him to constantly gauge the distance between them and be aware of Leon's location at all times, even without looking.
Then, he disappeared as if he had never been there. Chris tried to explain it to himself in a thousand ways. A misperception. Stress. Someone closer to him at that moment. Anything that didn't imply what was, inevitably, now making its way back into his thoughts with uncomfortable clarity:
That it had been real, that it could have been his. Leon wasn't who he claimed to be.
His jaw tensed—a barely perceptible movement that didn't show on the surface but coursed through his body like a restrained jolt. It wasn't just doubt pushing him toward that idea. It was what it implied. If it were true, then...
No.
He cut off the thought before it could finish, as he had done so many times before. But this time, the thought didn't disappear. It stayed there, throbbing beneath the surface. Worse still, it was accompanied by something else:
Desire.
That emotion was there, too —impossible to deny— but it wasn’t just desire. It was intertwined with something deeper, something rooted within him: the need to know the truth. What he had felt in New York wasn’t a fleeting illusion but rather a hint of something that had been denied him until that moment.
Chris knew what it meant.
He knew what it would awaken in him if he stopped denying it.
That was precisely what he was trying to control. He had no right. It wasn't something he could demand or reveal without facing consequences. If he made a mistake, there would be no turning back. He breathed slowly, exhaling deeply. He forced himself to stay calm and not show any of it on his face.
However, something began to seep out little by little, a pressure pushing its way through from within. It was a response he had suppressed for far too long. In the face of all that pent-up frustration, he began to crack. His pheromones started to fill the space. The amber scent seemed denser than usual. It enveloped the surrounding area in a persistent warmth. Warm. Cedar followed, drier and firmer. He marked his territory without moving, leaving a trail in the air that made his harshness clear. The smell of tobacco intensified, blending with a faint trace of metal and dust. The scent dominated everything around him, as if his body and mind were reminding him of who he really was.
"Chris!"
Claire's voice cut through the moment with a such urgency that pulled him abruptly out of the limbo he'd been on the verge of losing himself in. He blinked a couple of times as if he were returning from somewhere far away.
Claire was staring at him; his face was the very picture of seriousness. She was alert, and her eyes reflected something Chris understood without her having to say it out loud.
Get down.
The word wasn't spoken, but it was there.
Chris tensed, realizing what he had done —or rather, what he had let slip— and shut off the flow almost immediately. He forced his body to retreat to the rigid control that came so naturally to him. The change was subtle but sufficient. The air lightened enough to cease being an active presence and settle into stillness. Even so, the trace of his pheromones remained.
Leon hadn't said anything; he was still looking at Chris. But something in his expression had changed, barely perceptible, as if he'd picked up on something that didn't fit with his image of Chris...or of the situation. If he was a beta, then he couldn't smell the pheromones, could he? Chris couldn't read him. He held his gaze for another second, still felt the echo of what had nearly spilled over. He felt ashamed. Then, the phone in his pocket vibrated, breaking the moment with unexpected abruptness.
It was the director of the BSAA.
Seeing his name on the screen was enough to bring him back to the present. For the first time all night, he didn't mind having an excuse to look away.
Chris held the phone a few seconds longer than necessary, even after the call ended, as if hanging up weren't enough to process what he'd just heard. The screen went dark in his hand and gave him a faint reflection of himself, which he didn't look at for long. When he finally looked up, the noise of the bar hit him full force. He was almost oblivious to the urgency that had just settled in his chest.
Claire and Leon were looking at him.
The lightheartedness from before was nowhere to be found. The conversation, the jokes, and even the tension between them had been suspended, displaced by something more immediate to ignore. Chris set his phone down on the table with a controlled movement and rested both hands on either side of the glass without touching it.
"It was the BSAA," he said. His voice was firm but had a deeper tone than usual. "Jill hasn't been in touch during the last two communication windows."
He didn't need to say anything else.
Instantly, Claire sat up straight in her chair, the transition from calm to alert almost automatic, as if that part of her was never truly at rest.
"What exactly does that mean?"
Chris shook his head slightly, as if talking through the information would help him make sense of it.
"Things aren't going as planned," he replied. "Her last transmission was stable, but since then, nothing. There's been no confirmation, no signal, and no updates of any kind."
The silence between them was charged with a shared understanding that needed no further explanation. Claire exchanged a quick glance with Leon before refocusing on her brother.
"Then you're going."
It wasn't a question.
Chris nodded.
"I'll leave as soon as I get to the base."
Claire exhaled slowly, as if she had already made a decision before voicing it.
"I'm coming with you." Her answer was immediate.
"No." Chris didn't say it harshly, but his tone made it clear that it wasn't up for negotiation.
Claire frowned and leaned forward slightly.
"Chris, it's Jill."
"I know," he replied, keeping his cool. He knew how much his sister cared for her. "That's exactly why."
"That's exactly why you shouldn't go alone," she insisted. “You don't know what you're going to run into.”
"Neither do you."
"But I can help you. I want to help her."
Chris held her gaze for another second. He was aware that he had had this conversation too many times in too many different contexts for the outcome to change easily. The Redfield's were stubborn by nature.
"Claire," he added, lowering his voice slightly. "If something goes wrong, I need someone to stay here. I need someone who can move around without raising suspicion and who has access to information if I need it. It's no use for both of us to go in blind."
Claire didn't respond right away. She knew that his brother wasn't going to give in easily at this point. But neither was she.
Leon, who had remained silent until then, rested his forearms on the table and clasped his hands, exuding a calmness that contrasted with the situation.
"I'm coming with you, too."
Chris turned his head toward him.
"No." This time, he was quicker.
Leon raised an eyebrow slightly, as if he'd been expecting that answer.
"I wasn't asking for your permission." He replied with a half-smile that made Chris's heart skip a beat.
"You work for the DSO," Chris replied. "You can't just disappear to follow a BSAA operation without raising suspicions."
"It wouldn't be the first time I've ignored the chain of command," Leon replied with a slight nod. "And I highly doubt it'll be the last."
"It's not the same."
"No," Leon admitted calmly, "but it's also not the first time we've gotten involved in something that doesn't quite fit the protocol."
Chris exhaled through his nose and leaned back slightly, though his attention never strayed from Leon.
"You could get yourself into trouble."
Leon held his gaze without hesitation.
"I'm not worried."
"You should be."
"I'm not going to yield. And neither is Claire."
There was a tense pause that seemed to follow them beyond the personal realm. Leon looked more serious than usual, as if he'd already made up his mind. There was something in his expression that made it clear he wasn't speaking on impulse.
"Besides," he added after a second, "if Jill has lost contact twice in a row, the last thing you need is to go into unknown territory alone."
Chris looked at him more closely, searching his expression for some sign of doubt, but he didn't find any.
"It's not your responsibility."
Leon shrugged slightly.
"It never has been."
Claire let out a small sigh and crossed her arms as she looked at both of them.
"You know we're not going to change our minds," she interjected with a half-smile. "You can keep arguing if you want, Chris, but you're wasting your time."
Chris closed his eyes for a second, as if that brief gesture would help him make sense of the rest of the night. When he opened them, his gaze returned to Leon. For a moment, everything else —the argument, the mission, and the worry that had already taken root in his mind —faded into the background in the face of something simpler and more direct. He couldn't stop them.
"I'm leaving in an hour," he finally said, his voice regaining the firm tone he used when there was no room for discussion. "If you're coming, I want you ready."
Leon nodded without another word, while Claire let out a broad smile, as if there had never been any other option. Chris wasn't sure if this was the right decision. He didn't like the idea of involving his sister in something dangerous. Bringing Leon into the picture wasn't his idea of a good time, either. Still, a wave of pride washed over him. His pack was very close-knit. For the first time since the phone rang, Chris felt something inside him stop tensing, even if only enough to keep going.
The interior of the Osprey vibrated with a constant hum that was more felt than heard. The air inside was different: cleaner, but with that dry, metallic undertone that accompanied military transport. This was mixed with the faint smell of fuel and equipment that had been used too many times in conditions that left no room for error. Chris was accustomed to this; it was simply part of who he was. Leon and Claire sat side by side on the wide bench.
Chris sat across from them with his back straight and his arms on his knees. He mentally reviewed the information he had about Jill's last known location, as if going over it one more time would change anything. He didn't speak. His attention was fixed on that inner place where noise ceased to matter and only the most basic things remained. He couldn't lose control. Chris knew his rut was near, but he couldn't tell his sister or Leon. He would stay conscious and alert at all times, refusing to let his hormones affect him. He couldn't afford to make mistakes during a mission.
"So, you're Kennedy."
The voice came from the cockpit and carried a casual tone that seemed out of place given the circumstances. The pilot leaned back slightly in his seat, just enough to see them without letting go of the controls. He wore an easy smile that seemed too relaxed for someone in the middle of an operation.
"I've heard things," he added, looking directly at Leon.
Leaning against the seat, Leon looked up curiously. He always took an immediate interest in anything entertaining.
"Oh, really?" he replied, tilting his head. "I hope it’s good stuff."
"It depends on who you ask," the pilot replied. "But, in general, yes. They're pretty impressive."
Chris didn't look up and clenched his jaw.
"Fly," he said without raising his tone.
The soldier let out a small laugh and looked straight ahead.
"Always so polite, Redfield."
"Always so focused," Claire added from the other side, crossing her arms with a smile that foreshadowed trouble.
Leon let out a brief snort through his nose, clearly amused.
"And you are…?"
"Miller," the pilot replied. "Beta. Probably the only one here who doesn't treat life like a permanent mission."
"That sounds suspiciously like someone who hasn't worked with Chris long enough," Leon remarked, turning slightly toward Miller.
"Oh, no," Miller shook his head. "I've been here just long enough, trust me. The long sufficient to know this guy needs to relax."
Claire nodded with feigned seriousness.
"We've been trying that for years."
Chris finally looked up and gave them a look that was neither a warning nor a complaint, but something in between. He didn't mind the occasional joke during a mission, but he had been the butt of every single joke for hours.
"Can you focus for a moment?"
"We are," Leon replied without losing his smile. "Multitasking."
Miller let out a brief laugh.
"I like him."
"Me too," Leon added.
Claire put a hand to her mouth, clearly holding back another laugh.
Chris shook his head and looked down at the floor of the aircraft again as if that would shield him from the spectacle unfolding around him.
"This is exactly what I need right now," he muttered sarcastically.
"A little distraction won't kill you, Chris," Leon replied, leaning forward slightly to invade that space again. "In fact, I think it's the only thing keeping you from doing it yourself."
Chris looked at him, though he didn't answer, something in his expression changed. That closeness —that way of saying things without quite saying them— was pushing him back toward the limit he'd been trying to ignore all night.
Claire saw it and smiled.
The rest of the ride continued amid casual remarks and jokes that dragged on longer than necessary. There was also that strange dynamic between Leon and Miller, as if they'd agreed to test how much Chris could take before losing his patience.
Chris didn't quite lose his patience, but he came close. It was precisely in one of those moments of apparent calm, when the conversation died down and the noise of the Osprey took over the space again, that Chris began to feel a subtle, hard-to-pinpoint discomfort, like a tension starting somewhere in his body. His breathing changed slightly, not drastically, but enough for his body to register it before his mind did.
He frowned. Something wasn't right. He felt no pain or fatigue, but there was something else beginning to burn inside him. It took him a few seconds to recognize it but when he did, the thought struck him with a clarity that left no room for interpretation:
Rut.
He closed his eyes for a moment, blinking slower than usual, as if that would delay it.
It wasn't the right time.
Not with Jill missing, with an active mission, with...
Leon so close by his side.
Chris exhaled slowly, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning slightly forward. He tried to keep everything under control, forcing his body to remain at the point of restraint he had maintained so many times before. But something inevitably seeped through. Again.
The amber grew denser and more present in the air around him. It was followed by a cedar undertone that hardened, marking a clear boundary. It was a signal he didn't need to be aware of to perceive. It wasn't an explosion or an obvious loss of control, but it was there, beginning. It wouldn't be long before it intensified.
Claire turned her head toward him; she noticed it instantly. Her expression changed; the smile faded, replaced by a more serious, focused look.
"Chris…"
He shook his head slightly before she could continue.
"I've got it under control."
His voice was low and firm but not entirely convincing.
Claire watched him for another second, as if gauging how much of that was true, before nodding and not pressing the issue. However, the concern didn't entirely vanish from her gaze.
Leon stood in front of him throughout the entire conversation, but he didn't say a word. Even so, his attention, which had been scattered until that moment, focused on him with a different intensity. It was as if he had sensed the change, even if he didn't quite understand it.
The Osprey began to descend.
The vibration changed, and the engine purred as the aircraft neared the ground. The pilot announced their arrival in a much more professional tone than he had used during the rest of the flight. Chris sat up straight, pushing aside any distractions or thoughts unrelated to the mission. Everything else could wait, it had to.
"Get ready," he said, standing up.
This time, there were no jokes. There was nothing but movement and the constant feeling that time was starting to work against him, one way or another.