Chapter Text
Fall, 2004 – Wednesday, 10:02 p.m. E.S.T.
It’s a clear, chilly Wednesday night and the moon is low on the horizon as Chris Redfield watches the BSAA headquarters shrink in his jeep’s rear-view mirror. After thirteen hours of collecting information and working with new recruits about the recent tragedy in the Mediterranean Sea, Chris is looking forward to a relaxing evening in with Leon S. Kennedy. A hot dinner, some much needed quality time with his boyfriend, and maybe he’ll give Claire a call, if he’s not hung up on Leon.
On the dark road, Chris drives the familiar route to his and Leon’s flat. The night sky is filled with blinking stars, visible thanks to the lack of city lights in the more rural area they decided to settle down in. The moon above warned of dropping temperatures to welcome the autumnal season, so he reaches a hand over to raise the interior temperature – for his passenger’s comfort.
As he moves his hand back to the steering wheel, the passenger’s hand captures it with his own, fingerless leather gloves gently take hold and brings it down to rest on a lithe thigh.
“You’ve been awfully quiet, Chris.” Leon says quietly, brushing his other fingers over Chris’ glove-covered knuckles. His voice was low and brittle, and it caught his attention, “You’re not still working inside your head, are you?”
Recently, Chris has allowed his work to follow him home, distracting him from spending time with Leon and his other friends. The pistons in his brain working overtime thinking about different approaches to find solutions to their most recent incident related to illegal bioweapons: the Terragrigia incident.
But he’s not going to let those thoughts bleed into his life tonight. Work will be right there, on his desk upon his return tomorrow morning. Chris gives Leon’s thigh an encouraging squeeze through his navy slacks, catching one of his nimble fingers with his thumb.
“Nah, not tonight. My brain was about to melt on the last hour with O’Brian talking at me.” Chris breaks his focus from the road to look at Leon’s stony face, trying to soften the pinch in his brows, “The only thing that’s on my mind right now is you, sweetheart.”
Leon, ever so easy when it comes to flirting and pet names, only huffs indignantly, even as he contradicts himself by continuing tracing patterns on Chris’ skin with his fingers.
“The famed Captain Redfield? Thinking about little old Agent Kennedy? What an honor.”
He’s upset.
Chris slowly steps down on the break to a red traffic light and takes the opportunity to look over at Leon, who is looking out of his window, studying the shadows the moon casts onto the tall trees. There’s an unhappy moue on his pink petal lips, a twitch in his jawline.
“Hey, look at me. Please.” Chris requests softly without an ounce of preeminence, and Leon slowly turns to face him.
My God.
Something about the angle in which the silver rays of moonlight and the red traffic light illuminates the beautiful features on his face when he reluctantly turns to him, his honey blond hair is getting long enough to frame his soft cheeks perfectly. Even though they live together, work together, exist together, the sight of Leon S. Kennedy still manages to take his breath away. He has aged gracefully since ninety-eight despite the hardships they have faced. The number of times they’ve looked death right in the eye hasn’t dimmed the glow of the sapphires in his eyes one bit.
“I think about you all the time, Leon. Even inundated with work or being called into meetings about the bioweapon black market, you’re always on my mind.” He wants to touch, reinforce his words with loving caresses and kisses, but Leon still seems peeved. He still allows the thigh touches, though, so he counts that as a small victory.
“Could have fooled me. Seems like the only thing you’ve been so focused on lately is the Terragrigia tragedy.” Leon bites his pink lip, gripping the hand he keeps on his thigh tighter as the light flicks green, “Chris, for the past two weeks, I’ve seen you bring your reports home, stay up late reviewing them, and then we rush to repeat the cycle over again the next morning. You haven’t been eating breakfast, or lunch… It’s… We haven’t spent any real time together since you picked up this investigation. I worry about you. Not getting tired of me, are you?”
Even though Leon tries to pass off the final remark as a jab, there is both truth and a hint of raw fear lining his words. The absurdity of the seemingly nonchalant question almost causes Chris to swerve the vehicle. Not in a million years would I tire of you. You’re the love of my life, Leon.
“Never!” He blurts out loudly, apologetic, feeling immense guilt like an anvil just dropped onto his chest.
His large hand grips the steering wheel tightly, mentally preparing an entire novel to tell Leon how much he loves him. It’s true that he has been distracted with trying to find the people responsible for the fatal outbreak on Terragrigia. Between recent missions and investigations, Chris has forgotten that he has a wonderful life with his beloved boyfriend outside of the BSAA. That’s unacceptable.
“No… I could never, ever tire of you. Ever. I-… Shit, Leon, I love you so much.” He says thickly, palms sweaty with shame, thinking back to all the times he’s put work in front of Leon the past few weeks. How he has let the existence of the bioweapon black market affect his love life. God, Redfield, how can you let Leon believe he could be anything but your whole world? “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I have been too wrapped up with work these past few weeks to see I’ve been missing out on spending more time with you.”
Chris squeezes Leon’s thigh again in apology, beyond relieved to feel Leon lace their fingers together, sighing softly. A perfect fit, like bread and butter, just like they have been since Raccoon City.
It’s been a rocky six years since he and Leon were brought together in 1998. After Raccoon City, after Rockfort Island, Chris, Leon, Jill, and Carlos worked around the clock trying to make the world aware of Umbrella Corporation; reconnaissance with a small, private regional anti-bioterrorism group, collecting evidence, determined to put an end to the threat that is Umbrella. Their mission in the Caucasus Mountains had been their most triumphant (and Leon nearly froze to death (again)) collecting the final damning pieces of evidence for Chris to bring to the U.S. judicial court, thus opening the case ‘United States v. Umbrella Corporation, et al’, publicly known as the Raccoon Trials. In early 2003, it was a joyous day for their group when it was officially announced that their evidence proved Umbrella guilty and were subsequently shut down, bankrupted. Chris remembers spinning Leon around in euphoria before leaning him back for a deep celebratory kiss once the case was called. Claire even managed to break away from D.C. to party with them. It was over. Umbrella was done for at last.
In the glow of the celebrations, Chris finally took Leon on their promised vacation to Hawaii, just the two of them. It was overdue, anyways, and he took advantage of the lack of threat looming in their shadows. Chris and Leon basked in the tropical sun, the delicious meals, the silly tourist activities they partook in. One night while watching a dazzling sunset on Poipu beach, Chris came to an electrifying realization that their vacation felt almost like a honeymoon, it got him thinking. Planning. Leon has been there with him through it all. Their love never wavered, even in the uncertainty of survival, and he wants the man by his side until he fucking expires, and it was high time he did something to cement their unbreakable bond. Their love. To show how much he wants to be tied to Leon forever.
Chris wanted to see a wedding ring adorning Leon’s finger more than anything.
Now, it felt like all of his grand plans got shelved since they founded the BSAA and began the fight to end any other residual B.O.W. threats, like Terragrigia. Most of the BSAA – especially Chris, Jill, and Director Clive R. O’Brian – have been working nonstop with their new recruits from the FBC, who were present at the time of the incident, to try and better understand the cause. It has eaten away at his life more than he has realized. Until now.
How long has Leon felt this way?
“God, Leon, I’m sorry I made you feel… like you’re not the most important thing to me. Because you are. More than any B.O.W. or asshole who creates them. More than the BSAA. You’re the light of my life, angel. My better half.” Leon’s face dusts a pleasing pink when Chris looks away from the road to bring their entwined hands to kiss his fingers before smiling handsomely against them, “Please, let me make it up to you tonight. No paperwork, no BSAA, no B.O.W. talk – just you and me, Leon. I promise.”
The blonde squirms in his seat, endearingly flustered, “I… didn’t think you were tired of me, but the thought did cross my mind. God, it’s hard to stay mad at you. Especially when you’re so damn sincere when you say all that and always listen to me like I’m… what you said I am.” Leon’s face turns a shade deeper with two scarlet splotches on his cheeks, “I’d really like that, Chris. A lot. But I’m cooking dinner tonight for us. Jill gave me this recipe I want to try.”
Leon’s smile is warm and bright once again, like the radiance of the sun permeating the entire jeep’s interior and Chris will do anything to keep this angel by his side. The relief is palpable in Chris, a tsunami of happiness and excitement hits him, and he can’t help but grin at the moonlit rural road ahead of them, more eager than ever to get home. Although he has become stronger with additional training and experience, Leon is still the bright, determined, sweet man he found in Raccoon City. Kind and helpful and courageous; every bit of the man he fell in love with in the deepest depth of hell.
And, come to find out, he’s an excellent chef.
“Jill did? I thought all she was good at preparing were sandwiches.”
Leon snorts, squeezing Chris’ hand as he chuckles. Jill will never be unassociated with sandwiches again. Thanks, Barry.
“No way! Jill’s got a secret rolodex in her desk filled with recipes. Not one sandwich recipe, just so you know.”
“I have to see it to believe it. What kind of recipe did she give you? Toast?”
“So rude to your best friend.” Leon sighs, barely holding in another fit of laughter, “For that, I’m not going to tell you. It’s going to be a surprise.”
“Count me scared for my life.” That earns him a light punch on his arm, and Chris chuckles lightly.
Leon leans on Chris’ wide shoulder to watch the passing dark scenery, and traces the hard muscle on Chris’ bicep as his face shifts into something more serious, “Before we cut off work from our minds completely… How is it going with the new recruits? From the FBC, I mean. Saw you working with them again today with O’Brian.”
After their heavy conversation, it felt wrong to be thinking about work again, but Chris has known Leon long enough to read between the lines of his query, “You mean Parker? Or Jessica?”
Leon grumbles something underneath his breath and his hold on his hand becomes tighter, “Sherawat. Something about her rubs me the wrong way. She’s been trying to arrange a partner switch with me for our next mission for days. I think she just wants to ogle your ass and get a lobster dinner out of you.”
Oh, Leon. Don’t you know that the only one who has the key to my heart is you?
Chris’ heart flips at Leon’s possessive tone, another laugh bubbles up his throat, “Good thing you’re my partner and she’s not, then. I’m not interested in switching anyways. Why would I when I have you?”
“That’s fucking right. Next time O’Brian’s not looking, I’m gonna kiss you. Right in front of her.” Leon’s eyes flash mischievously, “Maybe she’d take the hint then.”
“You won’t hear me complaining.”
“Good.” Leon yawns, and he falls back onto Chris’ broad shoulder, “Hey, can you step on it? Wanna be home with you already.”
“So bossy. Don’t want to get a speeding ticket. I’m already going fifteen over.” He kisses the crown of his dark blond head before refocusing on the misty road ahead. The strands are soft and silky against his lips and he relishes in the peaceful feeling of everything in its right place - a rare occurrence in their line of work.
“Fine. Be an upstanding citizen.” He gripes half-heartedly, his other hand slides up Chris’ bare arm to feel his forearm muscles, “Think I got a lead on the people behind the Terragrigia attack, by the way.”
Chris doesn’t want to let the news excite him and distract him from thinking about their evening in together, but Leon’s words have piqued his interest.
“Leon, we don’t have to talk about work anymore, sweetheart. It will still be there when we get into the office tomorrow.”
“Hmph. You’re the one to talk.” God, his laugh is so bright and carefree, Chris actually blushes when his heart swells with love, “I may have turned down the offer to be a captain, like you and Jill, but my team and I have made great progress in finding the people behind the attack. You’re not the only one who’s been working hard on the Terragrigia incident.”
Earlier in the week, Leon told him he would be working with agents Cetcham and Lumley to help Chris and Jill’s investigation. The only difference: Leon had a much easier time separating his work life from his personal one; likely half the reason why he declined a captain’s position, and to have a better balance between fieldwork and research work. It was a smart choice, Chris realised. People in all levels of authority within the BSAA hold a great amount of respect for their founding members, and many agents would bend over backwards to work closely with Leon, Chris, Jill or Carlos.
“That’s amazing news, Leon. You’re a pivotal part of rectifying the tragedy with us, you know.” Chris kisses Leon’s fingers again in appreciation, and he can feel his lover grin on his shoulder, “You can brief me on your findings tomorrow. I like listening to you talk. You can describe a tree stump and I’d be drawn in by your voice.”
“Such a flatterer.”
The gentle trace of his shockingly soft fingers along the veins in his huge bicep got Chris shivering in delight. The drag of the sleeve of Leon's sheepskin bomber along the sensitive skin on the inside of his forearm… Leon knows how to get him going like no other lover of his past had. God, and to think he had been almost neglecting to spend time with this angel who has decided to stay by his side until the end.
Claire is right: he is an idiot sometimes.
When Chris slows to a stop at the four-way intersection before the turn onto their street, he looks down at Leon’s beautiful face before checking for traffic. He looks up at him with those striking blue eyes, calm and content. Happy.
Chris takes advantage of the empty streets and the four-way stop to lean down and kiss him. Home was so close, and yet, home sat right beside him in the passenger seat.
As he tilted his face down to meet Leon’s rosy lips, two dim headlights emerged from the mist on the east side of the road, speeding quickly toward the intersection. At first glance, Chris thought nothing of it – just a random commuter driving through the crossroads. More time to allow him to give Leon the kiss he deserves while waiting for the passing vehicle.
But a dark, gnawing feeling in the core of his soul begins to flare up. A warning. A sort of sixth sense he’s felt in tune with since the mansion incident. Every fiber of his being is suddenly alit, like firework fuses.
Something wasn’t right.
Leon’s peach lips await him for that kiss, tempting fruits, but Chris keeps his eyes on the oncoming truck and holds Leon closer to him. He mentally cycles through all the possibilities, outcomes, scenarios–
“What’s wrong, Chris?” Leon asks softly from the crook of his shoulder, worry creasing his blond brows together.
He looks back up from Leon back to the speeding truck: two bright headlights flooding the interior in a washed out luminescent glow as the driver, oh shit – steers the large, hulking vehicle right toward their jeep. There’s no way in hell he’d be able to drive out of the way in time, and it would take too long for them both to exit the vehicle. Chris’ heart pounds furiously in his chest. Leon.
“Leon…” Chris tries to remain calm, but he’s gripping Leon close to him to shield him from the truck that’s heading right into them, “I need you to get down and hold onto me.”
“Wha–”
Chris takes a hold of Leon’s head, fingers threading through silky blond tresses, and buries him further into the bulk of his own body, trying to protect him against the impending collision. They only have seconds and all Chris can think about is his precious Leon, he can survive if he–
Crunch.
Pain. Devastating, blinding, sharp.
The impact blows the vehicle back with incredible force: the loud sound of breaking metal, shattering windows, the shout of panic from Leon in his arms. Chris feels like he’s experiencing it in slow motion, but it couldn’t be longer than a second.
They’re tumbling as the force of the truck slams the jeep over sideways into the grassy ditch on the side of the road. Chris is thrown around the thrashed vehicle, like being stuck in a dryer, broken glass sprinkles onto the two men all the while he continues to shield Leon from the worst of it. He’s the priority, he’s everything. But once the car rolls to a stop on its side, they’re both smushed into the driver’s window together, cushioned only by the deployed airbags, Chris’ vision begins to fail him as the pain and shock hits him like a… well, a massive truck. His ears ring intermittently, and his chest is tight, and his throbbing head…
From the truck’s headlights shining in on them, Chris dizzily registers Leon still mostly unharmed in his arms, aside from the thin river of blood dribbling down from his hairline. He wants to say something to him, see if he’s alright, but he can’t inhale enough oxygen through his nose or mouth to utter a sound. The world spins around him. Overwhelming.
“Ch-Chris…” Leon wheezes, weakly trying to grab a hold of Chris’ bloody face.
It falls slack a second later, or what Chris thinks was a second, as he battles with himself to stay conscious – a battle he is indeed losing. God, even if they died here, they’d die in each other’s arms. How romantic. His grip on Leon begins to loosen against his will. Pain pulses angrily in every part of his body and he winces, trying to reach out to hold onto his unconscious Leon again.
But someone or something pulls him out of the loose circle of his arms… sliding him away from Chris. No. No no no no no no no no….
“¿Qué pasa con ese gran hombre?”
Amongst the turbulence of trying to look alive, Chris vaguely hears a question in Spanish, tone adenoidal and distinctly male. He struggles desperately to chase after Leon under the weight smothering him, keeping him pinned in place. Just the slightest movement jostles the flooring of the jeep to cave in further on him and, try as he might, Chris is in too much pain to attempt to move it as the tenebrous black ink bleeds into his vision.
“I’ll deliver —bodybag and… to Lord S—” Another masculine voice, gruff, strident, English.
A heavy figure straddles his chest, adding to the immense weight that the totalled jeep pressed on him, nearly extinguishing the fickle remaining amount of the oxygen out of his burning lungs and Chris gasps out gravelly. His arms were like wet noodles, numb and limp at his side, unable to even push the man off and defend himself. The headlights from the truck silhouettes his attacker, illusive, and he dizzily takes notice of a knife poised above the huge man, ready to strike. Is this it? This, after all he’s fought through, all the B.O.W.s – murdered by an unknown assailant and the love of his life taken from him, right out of his hands. A knife… straight to the heart… and what will they do with… Leon…
“Leon…” On his last breath, Chris groans in protest, choppy and fading. In his hazy vision, a smokescreen, Chris manages to catch the engraving of a snake at the hilt of the silver knife.
“¡Alguien viene!”
The ringing in his ears grow louder as he drifts away, becoming uncomfortably numb.
“—Right. See… soon, Big Red.”
Then he falls into the vast chasm of darkness.
It’s over.
—
Thursday, 5:34 a.m. E.S.T.
Beep… Beep… Beep…
A heart monitor is the first thing Chris registers when awareness returns to him. It beeps faster as he opens his amber eyes, squinting through bright white overhead fluorescents. Hospital lighting, hospital bedding, that particular hospital sterile scent…
He’s alive?
“What…” His mouth was bone-dry and adhesive bandages shifted along his jaw when he muttered the word. What the hell happened?
“Chris! Holy shit, you’re awake!”
Claire. He’s able to see her auburn hair before she’s embracing him tightly. Shit, she’s gotten fucking strong from her own training… or he’s just that sore. His stiff arm moves to wrap around her middle to return the embrace, ensuring her that he’s still alive. He couldn’t believe it himself.
“Claire…” He tries again, feeling a smooth polythene neck brace around his throat as he craned his head to look at his sister, “What… What happened? What are you doing here?”
Chris hadn’t seen her since they all attended Sherry’s high school graduation back in June. Not that he was at all upset at her presence, but it makes him wonder about the severity of the situation. Claire has been incommunicado for a few days, which is unlike her, then she appears by his bedside? It makes his tired mind race.
“It’s alright, Chris. You’re in the BSAA medical wing.” Claire leans back to hold Chris’ hands comfortingly, her icy blue eyes are frozen in concern, “Some motherfuckers t-boned you last night. Tipped your car over and all. Hit and run. The tracker on your jeep alerted the BSAA of the accident and Jill tracked you down with a team of medics to bring you here.”
Jesus Christ…
Chris’ heart rate spiked, and it’s obvious by the double beep on the heart monitor. He remembers the panic that erupted in him like a volcano seconds before the collision, the instinct to cover Leon’s body with his own, to protect him. Then, excruciating pain, searing and brutal, and unfamiliar deep voices, one Spanish and one English. Leon. Leon…
“And Leon…? Where is he?”
Claire’s face falls in despair and Chris feels bile roil in his stomach, thick and bitter.
“When Jill found you, Leon… he was nowhere to be found. She, local law enforcement, and a few other BSAA operatives are investigating the scene of the accident as we speak. You’ve only been out for a little over seven hours.” Claire keeps her voice strong, calm for his sake, but the sentiment doesn’t reach him.
“No… God dammit…” Chris weeps, squeezing her hands tightly as he tries to breathe through the black hole opening up within him with the reality that Leon had been taken from him.
“I’m sorry, Chris. They’ll find him. Jill is going to do everything in her power to bring him back to you. Just focus on resting and recovering.”
He looks down at the bandages and scrapes that cover his arms, stretching up to his shoulders, and he feels his heart bleed with the loss of Leon. Hurts more than the superficial injuries from the collision. Sadness, deep, aching despair passed through him just as fast as it hit him, replaced with blistering, red-hot rage. The tears that streaked down his cheek felt like scorching magma. Leon… I’ll find you. Even if I have to burn everything in my path to find you.
If Claire wasn’t here, he’d probably jump out of his hospital bed and start the damn witch hunt. To hell with his injuries.
“Claire.” Chris grimaces in the light, trying to fight through the war of emotions coupled with Leon’s disappearance, “Not that I’d ever be unhappy to see you, but what brought you here? You look like you came straight from D.C.”
She’s in her scarlet ‘Made in Heaven’ leather jacket over a crisp white button-up and black pencil skirt - Claire looks like she just stepped out of a meeting with the president or something. His sister’s face was unreadable while she fiddled with the silver feather necklace Chris gave her a few years ago.
“Besides the fact that Jill called to tell me that my brother and my best friend were in a terrible car crash?”
“Is there something else?” Claire retracts her hands from his as she appears to hide something, but Chris keeps a hold of her left gloved hand before she could retreat, “Claire, please tell me what’s up. I can handle it.”
She hesitates for a moment before she admits, “I’m being sent on a special operation in forty-eight hours. Contact outside of STRATCOM is strictly prohibited until my return. I had to let you know before my departure like all my other missions.”
Claire always rings him before she goes out on her missions, but never in person. This must be a major covert operation.
He sits up stiffly, feeling a twinge in his spine that shoots up from his head down to his tailbone.
“Must be important. What’s the location?”
“That's… classified.”
Oh?
“Will Hunnigan be your point of contact?”
Her lips twitch up at the mention of her handler.
“Yes. She’ll be there guiding me to my objective as per usual.”
Her and Hunnigan have been good friends since the night of the fundraiser party President Graham threw. Claire rarely ever goes into much detail about her missions, but she speaks highly of Hunnigan’s skills. She was a stellar resource during her operation in South America.
Chris gives her his best smile he can muster, “Then you’ll be fine. You’ve gotten much stronger since your operation in South America. Don’t forget that you’re a Redfield, and the best damn agent in your command. I have no doubt you’ll be successful, Claire.”
Claire’s face softens and her shoulders fall, “Yeah, you’re right.” She moves in for another hug, burying her face into the crook of his bandaged shoulder, and he ignores the aching flare in his muscles there to hold her tightly. “Love you, Chris. Sorry to leave you when you’re laid up like this.”
Her impassioned response makes Chris hold her tighter in his bulky, bruised arms. He already had Leon taken from him, he wouldn’t even know what he’d do if Claire’s bright light was snuffed from his life.
“I love you, too, Claire. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back on my feet in no time.”
//////////
The BSAA Headquarters are nothing like USSTRATCOM’s impressive edifice. Yet. It’s still growing into the bioterrorism fighting organization it’s working up to be. With Chris’ guidance, it will become successful.
Carlos, who was waiting in the hallway for Claire to exit Chris’ room, was kind enough to walk her out of the building.
“Hey. It’s been a while, Claire. How have you been?” Carlos quirks a grin at her. He still keeps his hair long and shaggy, but he looks like an overgrown puppy nowadays more so than an ex-Umbrella mercenary. He must be happy with Jill and his life at the BSAA.
“Good to see you, Carlos. I’ve been good up until this.” Claire pats his shoulder before walking beside him to the exit, “Thankfully, Chris is in better shape than I envisioned, physically, but he’s absolutely devastated about Leon. Has Jill found anything?”
Carlos purses his lips, and she’s not going to like what he’s about to say, “She called me about twenty minutes ago – nothing but tire tracks and dust left at the scene of the crime. I’m going to talk to Chris when I come back and update him on the situation. Poor guy.”
Fuck. No sign of Leon.
“Dammit. When I find out who did it, I’m going to plunge my knife into that person’s neck.” Calm the fuck down, Redfield, don’t let your emotions cloud your mind, she hears the late Krauser’s abrasive voice in her head reprimanding her like he used to when she got fired up.
“I think there’s a line forming, and I’m right behind you.” He sighs angrily and his tan hands ball into tight fists, “Fuckers almost killed Chris and kidnapped one of my good friends. Nobody gets away with that. Someone is playing dirty.”
Claire approves of his response, crossing her arms with the same contempt. Carlos is a good person and a good friend to her.
“Damn right, Carlos.”
They conversed like old friends all the way to the exit door to the building, helping to ease the tension fraying her mind and muscles. Still, Claire could feel the burning in her shoulder where President Graham placed his hand earlier today, placing all of his trust in her for her first rescue mission. Her mind was a hive of activity, darting between her upcoming mission and Chris and Leon’s assault. She had been hesitant to share the news of her departure with Chris after he had just survived a near-fatal car accident and Leon’s disappearance, but Chris managed to coax it out of her. Leon has been a truly wonderful influence on her brother over the years – Chris isn’t such a worry wart anymore when she leaves on missions. Now, he actually encourages her to kick ass out there in the world, help people who are less capable of fighting for themselves.
Must be a Redfield trait.
There’s an unmarked black vehicle waiting for her, and Carlos gives her a tight hug before he lets her break away. “We’ll find ‘em, Claire. I promise you.”
She nods in response, her smile reaches her eyes in appreciation, “Thank you. Please make sure my brother recovers. Nail him to the bed if you have to.”
“No amount of nails can stop that guy. With his muscles, he probably eats a bowl of them for breakfast. Without milk.” Carlos barks out a laugh, clapping her on the back before he steps back toward the doors.
Claire can’t help but join him in his laughter, contagious, “I believe it. See you, Carlos.”
After kindly greeting her driver, Claire settles into the slick leather seat and watches the building disappear from the view of her backseat window. Get better, Chris. I’ll be back before you know it.
“Claire, can you hear me?” Ingrid Hunnigan chimes into her earpiece as Claire pulls out her mission briefing from her suit jacket.
Claire presses the button in her ear to reply, “Loud and clear, Hunnigan.”
‘[Overview]
Retrieve the kidnapped individual.
[Subject]
Ashley Graham (Age: 20)
Daughter of U.S. president. University student. See photo for physical appearance.
[Background]
Contact was suddenly lost with the subject as she made her way home from campus. Soon after, she along with her ex-military bodyguards were reported missing.’
Claire’s slender, pale finger traces over the photo of Ashley Graham. The poor girl must be scared out of her wits. Ashley is only a year older than Claire was when she found herself in the midst of a B.O.W. outbreak, also in college.
“Good. I’ve organized your transportation to the location for you. You’re scheduled to depart in forty hours.” She says, and Claire can hear her typing on her computer, probably preparing her itinerary.
‘Upon further investigation, it was determined that she was kidnapped by an organized group and a team was convened.
Our intelligence department has confirmed several sightings of the subject in a remote village located in a mountainous region of Europe.
One agent was specifically chosen for the task.’
“Have I told you that I appreciate you, Hunnigan?” Claire smiles, even though Hunnigan couldn’t see it, it was apparent in her voice.
“Every time we work together, Claire.” She laughs over the comms, and she is a breath of fresh air. Her own guardian angel in the field. Claire wouldn’t have anyone else as her handler. “How was your brother? Is he doing okay?”
‘[Additional Info]
- We have confirmed that the perpetrators received help from an insider. To prevent leaks, this operation will be kept strictly confidential.
- Local law enforcement have been brought on board and are providing assistance.’
First Ashley’s kidnapping, and now Leon’s? Could the two incidents be connected? No. Impossible.
“Chris is stabilised and recovering. He’s a stubborn bull, that one. He’ll fight through it, like he does with everything.” She was more worried about the empty space beside Chris where Leon always is. Carlos better super glue him to his bed because he’s not going to be able to sit still and wait for his own recovery to find Leon. He’s Chris’ pearl.
Her handler hums, “Just like his sister. Glad to hear he’s doing alright. When you return, come by my office so we can get you prepared for your departure.”
“Copy that.”
Claire takes a deep breath and rests her head in her hand against the door trim, trying to ensconce herself into the rural beauty of Virginia enroute to D.C. She watches with her cobalt eyes as the morning sun rises, peaking through the red leaves of the oak trees.
Red.
She wears threads of red. She wielded the color in her name. Her hair: a shiny auburn, arranged in a long flowing ponytail. Red. The Red Valkyrie of USSTRATCOM.
Red.
A spy in a red dress… the one that slipped between her fingers and into the black maw of death. Eternal darkness. The memory of her is still etched into her skin, like a permanent scar, making her clutch the photo of the young Ashley Graham in a rush of emotions.
This time, it will be different. I’m going to bring you home safely, Ashley. I won’t fail you.