Chapter Text
<ONE HOUR AGO>
■■■ Military Base Camp
Waking up this early morning was never a past-time enjoyment of his. And certainly not when he had just got off a plane the night before. But when spontaneous missions like this call for it, functioning on six hours of sleep had become the norm, almost.
That didn’t mean he enjoyed it.
Leon had opted to take the bus, unwilling to take the chance for an unexpected conversation with an all-too-curious taxi driver. He was given the offer to be chauffeured by one of the army guys, but that also ran the risk of too many questions being asked. As he said, it was way too early for this.
As he trekked the long distance from the bus stop to the base, he snacked on his granola bar slowly, taking time to chew the nuts and raisins.
I could really go for some coffee right now…
By the time he got to the base camp entrance, the granola was long gone but he was still picking at the pieces stuck in between his back teeth. The minutes seemed to pass quickly as he waited in the short line of visitor clearance, watching the sunrise on the horizon slowly. His jacket was now off and hanging on his arm, hands in his pockets and mind blank. At least the walk made him more awake, and he felt that he wouldn’t be so snappy if someone nosy spoke to him.
His peace was interrupted by the sounds of marching nearby, and he saw lines of soldiers doing their morning march. The scene was all-too-familiar, memories of his time in the top-secret program surfacing. And he was just starting to feel a little better.
Before he could do anything about it though, an older man started walking up to him. The man filled up Leon’s vision as he raised his hand and introduced himself as “General Cohen”, the name tag and stars on his uniform confirming as such. Leon shook his hand and made to reply, but the General ushered him inside through the gate. The other few visitors looked at him curiously, Leon understanding why the General didn’t let him reply. Once they stepped into a building and were out of earshot, General Cohen spoke again.
“Agent Kennedy. I’ve read your file.” He slowed down to walk beside Leon just a step faster, leading the way still. “We heard about your extensive experience.”
With what? Leon wanted to ask. But by the side glance the General gave him he could guess.
The General kept a fast walking pace, and they passed by from open rooms with people to closed doors and into an empty hallway.
“The president recommended you. We hope you can lend us your aid in this. And there is also someone you might recognise.”
That made Leon pause. A vague statement, and the possibilities zipped by his head, although he couldn’t be sure.
“Is that so…”
The General just gave him a brief nod, then turned to enter a room. “We’re here.”
Someone he might recognise was waiting in this very room, only steps away. A familiar face, and someone the General made it sound like he got along with. Taking a deep breath, he swung his jacket back on and stepped into the room, scanning for the said familiar face.
It’s just that it wasn’t who he expected. At all.
<PRESENT>
I almost suffocated on the spot. And not because I wanted to. But unthinkingly I stopped breathing. It was as if time stopped, because he was also unmoving when his eyes met mine, and he stared back.
I was startled back into breathing again when General Cohen spoke. “At ease, soldiers.”
His resonating voice seemed to have also surprised Leon , as his gaze broke from me.
“Please close the door behind you. And take a seat,” he directed to said blonde.
I realized only then the three soldiers had stood up to salute their superior, and were now sitting back down. The man in the leather jacket was closing the door, four pairs of eyes on him, as he sat down on the chair closest to the door.
The General’s hands were busy as he got to setting up the computer and projector, eyes away and seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. He continued talking, addressing us.
“Good morning gentlemen and ladies. My name is General Robert Cohen, the time for introductions is later, and we will now begin the briefing.” He stood in front of the projector, presence commanding and confident.
Everyone’s focus was naturally drawn to him, and we listened, forgetting momentarily about the newcomer. I also wondered briefly about the small attendance. And the interesting way of greeting.
“The president requested the US army for a small team to be sent to Island Exotica – or Island X, for short. The mission is to find out what the hell is actually going on there, because courtesy of millionaire Patrick Xavier Boseman, like all millionaires and billionaires, prefers to keep things private. So when tourists who visit his resort on the island go missing one day, the government has to do some digging. Because Mr Boseman here is suspected to be involved in illegal activities that threaten the state of the nation. But we cannot send a large team because this is all speculation and we don’t want to alarm the nation.”
As he spoke, he flashed slides on the screen. A blurry satellite view of Island X, a picture of the millionaire, pictures of the missing persons and a picture of the resort. He gave a pregnant pause, letting us take it in.
Then he showed a slide of the world map, a red arrow on it.
“As the island is located in the North Pacific Ocean, you will be given 3 days to gather information and return. We’ll fly you to Travis Air Force Base in Solano County, California and then to Hawaii. From there you’ll be on a chopper on your way to Exotica.” The map zoomed in to the US with the travel sequence. Then, he flashed back to the first slide, the vague satellite view of the island, and clasped his hands behind his back. “Questions?”
Jones, who was seated right in front of where Cohen stood, raised his hand high.
“Yes, Sgt Jones?”
“Sir, I get that you picked us as Special Forces but how do they–” he gestured to me and Leon “–play into this?”
Unable to help myself, I blurted out “Special Forces?”.
I realized my slip too late when all the eyes in the room turned to me, my cheeks heating up. I tried not to think about that one pair of blue eyes from across the room, looking to the General for some answers.
“Yes, Detective. These three are Special Forces,” he affirmed.
Suddenly I wasn’t sure what to feel. Mentally ruffling through the pages in my head of my little secondary research on the US army, if I was right about what they did, this mission was more serious than I thought.
The “Green Berets”, they were called.
I glanced at the three soldiers sitting casually in front of me, taking in their sheer size and power. Add to that their skill that I haven’t seen – these people were not to be underestimated. I was lucky they were so welcoming to me.
The old man didn’t elaborate any further, addressing Jones’ earlier question.
“As I said earlier, all this is speculation. And if our guesses are right..,” his face turned grim, voice fading.
The three soldiers looked questioning at each other.
“We might be dealing with bioweapons.”
We turned our heads to a new voice, a voice that sounded familiar yet different – Leon.
“Bioweapons?” the quiet Sgt Anderson spoke up, voice disbelieving.
“Are you sure?” CSM Miller asked next, looking to Cohen.
The old man shook his head. “No. We’re not. Which is why we’re sending Agent Kennedy and Detective Moore because of their experience.”
His eyes raked over each of us, studying our expressions.
“Do we understand the mission, people?” His tone indicated finality, even if we had more questions to ask.
And I would’ve, but the three soldiers’ loud “Yes, sir!” didn’t give me a chance to.
“We will be leaving in one hour. Head to the visitor cafeteria for breakfast, all of you, and get to know each other. Pack your bags, I’ll see you at the hangar at 0730 hours sharp.” He made to clean his desk and turned off the computer while he gave orders, while we made to stand up. “Miller, you’re in charge, and don’t be late.”
The three of them saluted and the general saluted back, before opening the door and walking swiftly away.
<LATER>
Cafeteria
Still trying to recover from the brisk rapid-fire briefing from earlier, now I was seated across from him, the very man I was trying to avoid. The air between us was awkward, and that was putting it lightly. My usual big morning appetite was nowhere to be found, replaced by discomfort in my gut. I picked at my food, trying to focus on the conversation of the three soldiers beside me. At this rate, I was bound to get indigestion.
“So.” It was Jones who spoke up, again, his mouth full of food. He waved his spoon in the space between Leon and I, looking back and forth. “You two know each other?”
I saw in my periphery Miller shoot him a glare. He raised his spoon and his eyebrows in peace, going back to his food.
“Agent Kennedy, right?” she asked Leon, who was unfortunately also picking at his food.
She looked at both of us, eyes careful and querying. “If you don’t mind, we have to ask what it is you two know about these…bioweapons.” I shared a look with Leon. “We’re trained to deal with terrorists not…I don’t know, whatever General Cohen is throwing us into.” She looked to Jones and Miller, who nodded their heads encouragingly. “We need to know what we’re heading into.”
Miller’s eyes were sincere, as she placed her utensils down and gave us her full attention. Although my first impression of her was intimidating, she was more considerate than I thought.
She was right. What Leon and I had going on, we had to put aside. Although the whole thing was speculation, I already understood the purpose of sending so few people for this mission. Too many people equals a recipe for disaster if anything like Racoon City is involved.
I sighed, giving in.
“Have you heard about Raccoon City?”
<0700 HOURS>
Outside Cafeteria
I stood outside the building, my team within view inside. I turned to face the spacious field, the sun now round and fully visible on the horizon. I took a deep breath, inhaling the cool, fresh air. This far out from town the air was less polluted, so I reveled in it, cherished it.
I managed to force down some food at least, because I would definitely need it. The military dudes would back rations, but I wanted to avoid those as much as possible. Those things promise constipation.
I shuddered at the thought.
“Hey.”
I jumped at the voice right behind me, and turned to see Leon walk up to stand beside me.
Now standing and so close, I couldn’t ignore him.
He was taller, I think, and I didn’t think it was possible, more handsome. His looks had always been a striking part of him, all the good Italian ancestry showing. As he aged, it only served him better. But his heart was what drew me to him; full of good and justice. Every single one of his actions gave good outcomes, though that is not to say he is without fault. He does things that are detrimental to himself sometimes, but doesn’t let it get the best of him in the end, and always does the inherently good thing. What I don’t understand is why he did that – to me.
He was looking far off into the distance, hair lightly swaying in the breeze, and I clenched my fists to stop from brushing it away like I used to. He looked healthy, at least. And though his body was covered by his jacket, it couldn’t hide his broad and even shoulders and the calluses on his hand or his strong neck and jaw. It seems he did well in the time away.
I had so many questions, so many things I wanted to ask him. I wanted to know what he’d been up to in the seven years since he left, why he didn’t say anything, why he took up so much of my time, why he returned. Does he still think about me? If he didn’t, why did he seem so uncomfortable in the cafeteria? What was that look of understanding we shared? It couldn’t have meant nothing if he reacted that way. Why is he standing here, next to me? What is he thinking about?
His gaze drifted down and to the side, and I felt something warm touch my hand. I jolted, surprised. His hands gently unraveled my fingers from my clenched fist. I didn’t even realize how hard I was squeezing, short nails having left marks in my palm.
I stood speechless, watching my hand in his two large ones.
He massaged it absentmindedly, looking down at it but thoughts elsewhere. I stared at him for a full minute.
“...What are you doing, Lee?” I said, finding my voice.
He froze, whether at the fact that he remembered where he was or at the old nickname, I didn't know.
He didn't let go of my hand though, and looked at me. He didn't have to tilt his head high because he was still looking down at me, and I was the one craning my neck. But somehow, the heartbroken look on his face made him look small, and it made me feel bad and angry at the same time.
He shouldn't be wearing the expression. I should. He left me.
“Al..,” he began.
One of his nicknames for me. It struck a chord in my heart, but I held steadfast. I wouldn't break here. Not now. There was no time.
He closed his eyes and sighed, his breath ghosting my hair.
“I’m sorry.”
Voice soft, deep, and full of regret. If I had allowed myself to imagine this scenario, I reckon this would've been one of the outcomes. But I didn't. I didn't allow myself to imagine him apologizing even once, let alone a hundred times. I knew once I started, I wouldn't stop, and I would just spiral into an endless abyss of “what ifs” and “what could be”.
So when I hear him say it, I'm relieved. There were no expectations of reconnection, so there was no disappointment.
Still, the wave of relief threatened to pull me under just as well, and I was silently grateful for his closed eyes. It was taking everything in me to not burst to tears right then and there. It would be unprofessional, right here in the middle of a military base with soldiers around. This was no appropriate place for sappy romances.
Eyes still closed, Leon said, “I owe it to you. Everything.”
When he opened it, he was looking down at my hand again. He turned it around, looking at the back.
“But not right now. There's no time.”
I looked at where he was looking, at my watch, and the time on it showed 0715.
Now he looked at me again, blue eyes resolute, reminding me of the past. “After this mission. I promise.”
I stayed silent a moment longer, searching his eyes. He didn't look away, gaze almost pleading. I turned my hand he still held, and grabbed his right one.
“Okay,” I said finally, shaking his hand in a gesture of peace.