Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"You can't just fire me!" He protests when Irons drops the news right on his head. Kennedy stands tall, begs his heart to stop thundering in his chest and his hands to keep steady, he tries to sound sure and convincing. He is needed, he has been a good asset. He didn't do anything wrong. The pictures on the table stare right at him, and he wills his face not to whiten.

To be fair, Leon is terrified. He walked into the office already concerned. He was sure that had something to do with the man he arrested, but he did not expect getting sacked right on spot.

Irons had his arguments. Come, Leon, look at the evidence, see your own face incriminating you again and again. Take that idea in your head, think about it some more, mull it over. How do you like the feeling? This embarrassment crawling up you legs and making them tremble, cold shivers raising your hair, and sick emptiness hovering over your lover belly. That's what fear does to you. It boils your insides and melts them, isn't that nice?

Leon quietly gulps, but stands tall, even as Irons shakes his head and smirks to himself. So Kennedy repeats his argument.

"You can't just fire me, we don't even have enough officers! I was patrolling alone!"

"Yes, I can." Brian reclines on his chair and it squeaks under his weight. "We have more than enough people on duty. And they've sent you alone because you are annoying as hell, Kennedy."

He takes a drag of his cigar and lets out a large puff of smoke. It raises towards the ceiling and dissipates when it hits the fan blades. Brian glances at Kennedy and flashes him a sly smile.

"See, Kennedy. We live in a decent city. We both are so lucky to serve there. Nothing ever really happens in Raccoon."

"Sir, I know how many homicidal and abduction cases we deal with weekly, the city is far from safe. And we both know the S.T.A.R.S can't catch the serial killer for two month now, so it's really unwise to—"

"That's what you discuss in bed?" Irons asks him blatantly, peeping at Leon through another cloud of smoke.

"Excuse me?"

"You and Redfield," he grits through his teeth. "in between of sucking dick, am I right? Guess if he put the same energy in doing his job, a lot of lives would've been saved by now."

Leon gulps and bites back his pride, standing still and keeping quiet. Something tells him that saying anything right now will go as aggravating circumstance, and that something is the Chief's creaking with a small spin chair. Irons rests his head on the back of the leather cushioning and rubs his eyelids in irritation.

"We have enough men to cover your duties, Kennedy. And I'm sure we'll manage until we get somebody new to replace you. You know, a lot of bright young men are willing to get your position and not waste our city's resources on having affairs and being degenerates, so— no two-week notice. Hand over your badge."

But he hesitates, he stares at his own feet, and he wishes this just stops right now, so he can go outside, take a breather, then return and defend himself, because his life fully depends on his actions right now. But the world keeps turning, and Kennedy still stands in front of his chief and feels cold spreading throughout his body. Then he looks up at Irons and tries for the last time.

"You legally can't terminate me based on my sexual orientation alone. That is against the law."

"I'm the law."

"You still can't. You have to have a reason for terminating me, a real reason."

"Well then. Abuse of power and entrapment, that sounds good enough?" And as soon as Leon opens his mouth and a small shocked gasps escapes him, Irons clarifies, "You forced the man you arrested to admit things he wouldn't otherwise. I am the law, Kennedy. Trust me, you better shut up unless you want more charges against you."

Cold fingers reach up, touching the equally cold metal of his badge. Leon holds his hand in place just for a moment, trying to carve the feeling, the weight of this honour, this power, this trust put in him on his chest into his memory forever, and then he unclips the badge, quietly lowering it on the desk in front of him. It glistens for the last time, lying amidst dozens of photos akin to a crime scene.

His own future falls victim to his own actions. Consequences are a harsh thing.

Right before he walks out, he hesitates, but still asks his last question.

"What will happen to Chris?"

Irons rolls his eyes in annoyance and glares at Kennedy, all while resting his head on his fist.

"He's a tad bit luckier."

 When Chris walks into the station, he doesn't expect everyone to be so quiet. Some of the older officers glance at him strangely and it rubs him the wrong way, but he knows what can cheer him up. A little detour to the coffee maker in their S.T.A.R.S office and a bunch of silent, sad glances from the Bravo team later, Chris casually strolls towards the central staircase. He's sure something's up. He carries two cups from his own desk collection in his hands, both filled to the brim with fresh coffee, and bites his lip in trying to pinpoint what's wrong.

It's a given that the precinct doesn't exactly buzz with energy in time for the night shift, yet something entirely else is weird. People are keeping to themselves, as if something has happened, too uncomfortable to even mention, and somehow, Chris feels it in the back of his head, related to him.

Squeezing through people in the corridor, Chris pushes the door into the west office with his hip and stiffens the moment he sees Leon's desk emptied out. Not a single personal thing in sight, not a piece of clothing, not a notebook, — even the little standee with his name is gone. That is so not like him, so not like Leon, so not—

"Hey, George." Chris starts slowly, grabbing the officer's attention. "Where's Kennedy?"

George Scott raises his head, looks over Kennedy's desk, and shrugs.

"No idea, man. I just got here myself." He says, patting himself on the sides, straightening out his uniform, and then turns around, moving his head, "Neil, you heard anything?"

"About what? Kennedy?" He shouts from under his desk and then his dishevelled head raises and he looks both men over. "Yeah, he got sacked today."

Chris's heart skips a bit, he stills, and his mugs would've slipped out of his grip if he didn't know better. The office turns all quiet in a second, and Chris doesn't know what to think. First, he doesn't want to believe it, because it sounds like a cruel joke, but the evidence is right there, all over. His empty desk, everyone's pitied looking, eerie quietness, and gloomy atmosphere are still there, they don't. Chris puts his mugs on Leon's empty desk and looks defeated.

"Is Lieutenant in? I want to have a word."

"Don't bother, man." Neil waves his hand. "It wasn't his decision. Chief himself called the guy in and took his badge. Something about gays, but I'm not sure."

And it drops on him, out of nowhere, he sinks rapidly, and the oceanic wave of pure terror goes over him, splashes onto his head and so on and so on. Out of every single possibility, out of any chance that could've come their way, this was the one that ruined it all. His Leon wasn't just paranoid, he was right.

While Chris seeps under, Neil keeps talking, "That's a shame, man. Kennedy was a nice fella. I've seen Lieutenant going to Chief to talk about it, but… as you see. The boy's gone."

"So… you know why, exactly?" George tilts his head slightly and peeks at Chris's looking pale, mortified even.

"Well, from what I've heard," Neil says slowly, "he arrested a junkie earlier, and the guy had some pics of Kennedy kissing a man, or something like that. And you know Irons, he's a bitch. So he kicked Kennedy out, said that he was overstepping during arrest, abusing power. But I still think he sacked him just because he's a queer, maybe. I don't know, George, I really don't care if he's not straight, he was a good cop. Why would you even care, like, it doesn't affect his job, or his judgement. I just think… I don't know."

"Listen, I kinda get why Chief kicked him, but Kennedy's a real good asset, isn't he? He could've turned a blind eye on him, to be honest. He's a good gay, I think?"

"Why would his personal life matter at all?"

"Why wouldn't it? What if he's like… I dunno." George shrugs.

"That's what I'm saying. You can't even think of a good reason, so it doesn't matter, like I said. Anyway, Kennedy's a good man, it ain't a crime if he sleeps with guys. A pity he's gone, really, we don't have enough men on duty."

"Yeah, that's true. I don't wanna work double shifts." After a pause George sighs and turns to Redfield to see what he thinks about it all, but as soon as he looks up, Chris is gone. Two steaming cups still stand on the empty table. "When did he go?"

Neil only shrugs.

If there is a force in this world that can change Irons's decision, then it's not in Chris's hands. If there really were pictures, then it's just a matter of time until Chris gets kicked out as well. Maybe Irons already anticipates it. Waits for him to come for answers, or come begging, asking to bring his boyfriend back, just so he can rub it in his face and humiliate the two of them further.

So Chris doesn't go to him. He makes a U-turn and strides back into the S.T.A.R.S office, full of resolve and spine straighter than ever. If there is one person who can say no to Brian Irons, that's their captain. He needs to see Wesker as soon as possible.

"Where's Wesker?" He asks Rebecca when he sees the captain's door locked. She looks at him with her big eyes and thinks for a second before mumbling out something about his mentioning the library. That's where Chris needs to go, and something tells him that Wesker really is waiting for him. Setting this whole thing up. But if Chris doesn't try now, he'll never forgive himself.

He has to try, for Leon's sake. For Leon, whose phone is turned off, whose phone isn't getting picked up, who is out there, somewhere, in the rain, because Chris has seen his car when walking into the station. Because that's his Leon who would go out in the rain just to pity himself, that's his Leon who would shut every person out because he thinks he's better off alone and needs to pretend he can give out a hundred and twenty percent of his energy just so nobody thinks something's off about him, that's his Leon, his boyfriend, his everything, who just lost all he had because of dumb beliefs and one endless ego of a bitch they call their Chief.

Chris walks into the library, which is empty safe for Wesker's quiet presence. The captain stands by a bookshelf, picks through books, as if searching for something, and Chris comes up to him nervous, but serious and stands there behind him, to his right.

"Captain."

"Chris, good evening." Wesker says monotonously. "I assume you have something to ask of me?"

It's in the tone of his voice, cheekiness, and Chris can feel it, how much Wesker wants to tell him he's easy to read. And Chris would be frustrated if he weren't so desperate.

"I have a personal request, Captain." Chris stands still, but when Wesker peeks at him through his glasses, he can see how hopeful Redfield looks. How he nearly trembles.

"It's about Kennedy, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir." Wesker's eyebrows raise for a second, and then he turns back to his usual expression. Calm, stone-like, lifeless as they come. Chris momentarily thinks of the only times he's seen Wesker smile, most of them being when Sherry was over or her parents called, and he knows Albert's still human, even if he pretends not to be.

"I'm afraid, Chris," he says, "there's nothing I can do. I cannot overrule Irons's decisions, and if your friend is gone, he's gone."

"Please, you have to ask him." Chris argues. "That's not fair."

"Life is rarely fair, as a policeman you should know."

"I know. But he's a good cop. He loves this job, that is his whole life's dream. He helps people, he works hard, he does all he can. I know you don't like him, sir, but Leon is one of the best. I need you to talk to Irons. I will do anything, everything. But I need you to at least try."

"Chris," Wesker tries, but Chris doesn't listen. He will not lose this chance, however minuscule it must seem.

"You can kick me out, but not him. I'm willing to go, easily, I'll find a way, won't be the first time, but not Leon, this job is his life. He can't lose it. Please, Captain. I can do anything. More work, more shifts, no bonus, I don't care."

They stand in relative silence, Chris is still, he looks at Wesker seriously, expectantly, hoping to crack that cold exterior and get what he wants. Warm light falls on Wesker's face and the shade drops from his sunglasses. He looks pensive, his fingers linger on books' spines, and his head is tilted to the side, as if he's considering.

"Oh, Chris," he starts then, "you do love that boy a lot."

With a quiet gulp, Chris nods. It's no secret then, he thinks, if they had pics of Leon, the only other person in there is him. Only him. Leon is way too scared to show affection anywhere people can see, and Chris partly thinks it's his fault. Pressing Leon into PDA when he should have known it would turn out like this. Chris nods again, because he loves Leon. He loves him more than anything and he's willing to do anything just to fix this all. That's what's right. He can put himself on a line if it means Leon gets the best outcome.

"Oh, Chris…" Wesker sighs and takes his sunglasses off, wiping them with a cloth he took out of his pocket. "Love is a weapon, is it not? It can ruin your life with one wrong move."

"I know."

Wesker's gaze is weird, not sympathetic, but not evil either. So when he finally says something, he puts his glasses on and stares into distance.

"I will try to figure it out. Whether it works out or not, you still owe me. First of all, get ready to work double shift today. Also get onto Burton's documentation while he's on leave." Chris dutifully nods, filled with pure hope, and Wesker rubs his nose bridge at his glowing face. "That is not all. I will come up with something to busy you. Now, get to work."

"Thank you, Captain. I'll get to it. Can I make a phone call first?"

"Don't get your hopes high, Redfield."

"I don't. I need to make sure he's safe and at home, his phone's dead."

"You are way too open about your relation to him, Chris." The pause settles in, and Wesker looks like he's biting his cheek from the inside. "What if I'm just collecting more evidence to fire you too?"

With a slight smile, Chris shakes his head. "If you were, Wesker, I'd be long gone, we both know it."

Wesker scoffs, and turns around, gliding his fingers over the dusty books.

"Five minutes, then I expect you at your desk. See you in the morning, Chris."

He holds on to the stationary phone as if it's his last hope and dials the number hurriedly, panicky. He knows not to get his hopes high, and even if he were to do that, it wouldn't be fair to Leon. Theoretically breaking his heart the second time in a row. What he needs to know is whether his boyfriend's at home, safe and sound, and not doing anything stupid that he should not. He clings to the phone and listens to the same old beeping — Leon's phone is still off.

So Chris gets another idea. He dials in the number of their stationary phone at home and waits patiently and biting his lip. After several seconds the phone is lifted and a tired and angry voice answers,

"Allo?" The voice says on the other side and Chris's shoulders sink.

"Hey, Jeremy, that's Chris."

"The hell you want? You've seen the time?" Jeremy answers, disgruntled.

"I know, I know. I need a favour. Can you check on Leon, please?" Nervous, Chris pleads and bites his lip. But his awaited yeah, he's in here, sleeping doesn't come, and instead Jeremy huffs and says slowly,

"He's not here yet. I mean, he came by, left his stuff, and went out. Said he was drinking." It sounds like he shrugs on the other end, and Chris swears absentmindedly. "I don't think that's bad, just think about it. Maybe he's got a girl. You know, a guy can go out without supervision, he's, what, twenty four?"

"It's not that." He lets the girl remark fly past him, it's not the time. Instead he sighs worriedly, but thanks Jeremy nonetheless. "It's just… work stuff. Thanks, pal, I owe you. When he comes home, can you please tell him to call back? It's important. His phone's dead."

"I guess? But I'm going to bed, so I can't promise anything."

Chris sets the phone down and grips at the table, squeezing the wood tight until his hands hurt and the skin whitens. Alright. Alright. At least Leon's fine enough to stop by home and not let on that's something off. And, probably, the news haven't reached Jeremy yet, so it saves them some headache.

The whole situation is a pain in the ass, and Chris swears that if something happens to his Kennedy, he's turning his resignation letter the very same second. He's used to being sent away, but he can't let Leon go through this on his own, hurting and infuriated. He knows Kennedy like the back of his hand, and Leon is a pro at winding up and taking out his troubles in ways that cause even more harm. God knows Redfield tried to help and fix it, but Leon is a lost cause, if it makes any sense, and the best course of action is to just let him feel what he feels and leave him be, but keep an eye on him.

A boyfriend prone to destructing himself, god, when did Chris even sin that much?

But that's the case — he loves Leon way too much to just let go. To allow him to destroy what he sees and wreck everything he's worked for all this time. Chris loves him way too much, and so he bites his tongue, makes a mental note to check in several hours later if Jeremy or Leon doesn't call first, and then walks up the stairs to get to the office. He has job to do, to keep his mind off of this whole mess — no, not a mess, his lover's well-being, — at least for a moment. Let Wesker try and work his magic.

All Chris really wants to do is to fall on his knees and pray to any angel that hears. Let Leon be safe, be fine, be happy, and be with him when Chris comes home and hugs the living hell out of him.

"What do I do with you, honey, what do I even do."

He sits inside. People move, people dance, mingle, jingle their keys, chatter, clink their drinks, somebody laughs, somebody scoffs, somebody keeps living. Somebody gets ready to go home, somebody is willing to pay for someone else, someone is kissing, someone is having the time of their life, but he sits there. He sits inside. He keeps sitting inside.

He thinks of his cellphone, he thinks of his emptied glass, he thinks of the clock on the wall that keeps telling him that it's too late to sit outside and he should head home, but he can't move. It's past midnight, closer to two in the morning. He spins the glass hopelessly and tries to figure out what to do with his life now, but his mind is fogged up, desperate, and tired, so no sane thought gets formulated, and he keeps teetering on the 'let me end myself' line.

The fate of Leon S. Kennedy is far too cruel, he thinks and spins the glass again. Soft music starts playing in the background and Leon peeks behind himself. Pairs start to get on the dancefloor, moving cheekily, resting their hands on their partners' shoulders, and leaning in, careless and happy, and he swallows hard. Bile rises up in his throat and he gulps, trying to stifle this sickening feeling in his stomach. Jealousy burns him from the inside and he lovers his head, biting his lip in desperation.

Why can't it be him and Chris on the dancefloor? Swaying to the beat, hands on shoulders, not even kissing, not even leaning in, nothing. Just dancing. What he wouldn't give for one goddamn dance with Chris.

He hasn't seen him since this morning, and he's suddenly struck with such a gross feeling of needing him beside, of needing to cry on his shoulder… he wants Chris to caress him and tell him stuff's going to be okay and tell him he's going to find a new job that's going to be way better. He needs Chris so much, he wants him to be there, right here, right now, right this moment—

"I see you've had enough."

Calm, deep voice comes from the left of his, and Leon turns his head rapidly, ignoring the sway in his eyes and mind. He can figure out a familiar silhouette of grey clothing and blond hair, but he needs a bit more time to realise it's… captain Wesker looking at him. Staring him down with a, presumably, sarcastic expression.

His mind wanders when he looks at him, and he wonders if Wesker's come to rub it in his face. He musters the power to say something, but Wesker cuts him off.

"I had a feeling I'd find you here. You're a predictable one, not a great quality for a policeman."

Leon chuckles sourly, "Well, guess it's good I'm not one any longer."

Wesker only tuts at this and flags down a bartender, asking for a glass of water, though Leon could not care less. While glasses and talks rustle by his side he sulks further, biting down his irritation. Surely the S.T.A.R.S captain found him to pour salt on his open wounds, because all he's known of Wesker was pure disdain and disregarding his abilities, so… he wasn't expecting any less now. He assumes Wesker knows why he's gone, and it's only a matter of time when he tells him something cruel and laughs at him, thus Leon attacks first.

As soon as Wesker takes a sip of his water, Kennedy pointedly tells him to fuck off without meeting his eye.

"Abysmal behaviour," remarks Albert.

"I'm not your subordinate anymore, so it doesn't matter."

"I figured as much." He leans with his back on the table and looks at the dancing crowd, his eyes hidden behind his shades, his lips betraying no emotion. "Pray tell, Kennedy. What made you come here?"

"Drinks," he answers plainly.

"I didn't mean the bar. The force. Why is it that you want to be a 'cop' so much?" He utters that word so conflicted, like biting down on a fibreglass. Leon, though, takes his time to answer. He ponders on it, swirling the same old glass in his hand, and then shrugs.

"I don't know anymore."

Wesker raises an eyebrow.

"I wanted to help people. I wanted them to know they're safe, they've got someone to lean on, their community is, well, calm. Just so they know police isn't all corrupted bastards and they're ready to lend a hand to everyone," he explains, "Hell knows the sceptics were right. There's no safe place for anyone in this damn world, what to say about Raccoon."

They sit quietly, Leon deep in his thoughts and Wesker busy with looking at the dancers and the live band in the corner. Young men play too fast for his liking; they're nervous, it's evident.

"He's worried about you," he says it out of the blue, catching Leon off guard and noticing how his shoulders rise defensively. His gaze fixates on Wesker and he studies his face intently, looking through his glasses and trying to get into those blue eyes.

"You did not fire him." He concludes, and Wesker scoffs.

"He's one of my best men, and now his only distraction is gone. I'd prefer keeping Chris productive forever."

"I'm glad."

The noise of the bar continues to happen in the background, and Kennedy dissolves in it, letting it seep into his mind and numb every feeling and precaution. He lets it take over so it stifles the pang of jealousy and rage. He stomps on this feeling, drowns it in the chatter from beside him. It's got no right to eat at him, no right to make him believe he must hate his boyfriend for being a better cop material and having Wesker on his side. Tiny voice whispers that it should've been him, but Leon shoots it right in its scrawny little head.

He loves Chris, he's happy for him, and damn right Chris deserves to have his life in order, away from the wreck by the name of Kennedy.

Wesker sits on his left and doesn't even look at him. He's relaxed and exists in the bar as if he belongs there, matches the atmosphere, sips his water so delicately Leon feels his eye twitching.

"You've come here to mock me?" He finally snaps and glares at Wesker in a drunken daze.

"No, why?" The captain answers calmly, not even peeking at his face and keeping his expression the same icy image as before.

"Then why're you here? You're not my superior anymore."

"Can't a man enjoy a drink on his own?" He swings his tall glass pointedly. "A drink of water, in this case. See, I'm not a heavy drinker. Unlike yourself, am I right?"

Leon sighs and averts his eyes, growing gradually sadder by a second. Drunken honesty hits him in the temple and he feels compulsed to spill his guts to Wesker of all people.

"I used to drink more. I haven't in a while, though." His voice low, he admits. "Chris stopped me, kind of."

"And Redfield isn't here to stop you now. He sits at the station, worried about your sorry self, while you drink your problems away. What a majestic sight." Wesker adds sarcastically and watches Leon's shoulders slump forward as he sinks lower onto the table. He sees how he weakens and looks abysmally pathetic, but ignores it, egging him to fall apart even more. "If that is how you treat your partner, it's no wonder you lost this job."

"No," Leon mumbles, muffled by his sleeve.

"Sorry, couldn't hear you over the noise. Come again?"

"I don't treat him like this. Nor do I treat this job like it. Don't say that, you know nothing of him."

"Then how do you treat him?" Wesker smirks. "Egg him on? Send him encrypted messages? Distract him with your face all over his walls and table? You wreck his life, Kennedy. You turned a reckless man that lived for his own pleasure, ridiculous and stupid into a lovesick idiot, who's ready to kiss the floors you stand on. He's disgusting and hopeless, and even now, when there's no distraction at the station now, I can feel him still slacking off because he thinks of you. What are you, Kennedy?"

"I'm nothing," whispers Leon, "and I don't know why he thinks of me this much. But I love him."

"They say, if you love something, set it free."

"I love him," he repeats. "I love him. But if I leave, he'll hunt me down and kill me." He ends it with a sour giggle and drinks up the last bits of liquor in the glass.

"What a dark, cruel twist, Kennedy."

"But it's true."

They sit like that for a while, until the clock strikes four in the morning, and Wesker suddenly stands up and smacks Leon's back on his way. Kennedy barely flinches, but peeks over his shoulder all offended.

"Get up. Come with me."

Leon raises an eyebrow, but follows nonetheless, getting up from his place unsteadily. Everything swims in front of him and he has to grab onto the hard table wood to keep himself upright. Wesker tsks at him and walks out with all his usual grace and arrogance, and Leon huffs at that, following suit. People around don't pay attention, and he's already closed his tab and hour or so ago on deciding that he had enough. With every sip he felt the bitter taste of guilt that gnawed on him and ripped his internals one by one with its tiny and sharp claws… and he couldn't stop thinking about Chris and Chris only. Chris wouldn't like to see him like this… it is if he ever wants to see him again at all.

Leon wouldn't want to see himself not a single time, especially after today. He'd cut himself off and out of his own life, ending the misery and suffering at once, ripping the bandage off and leaving the wound to heal on its own, get irritated, inflamed, bothersome… Leon is bothersome. Oh what a bother he is, especially when he stumbles out of the bar and nearly falls on the pavement. His laces came undone, great.

Looming like a giant shadow, Wesker stands next to him and scoffs, before unlocking his fancy car and walking over to the driver's side.

"Get in the car."

Leon gets up on his feet and dusts his hands off. He squints a little, discerning Wesker's unbearably egotistic face in the dim light of streetlights.

"Why..?" He waits, studying Wesker's stance.

"Because I've told you to. Get in."

Suddenly defiant, Leon sneers, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes you are, Kennedy." Wesker gets inside and slams the door shut, then starts the engine. The car roars in front of Leon, the window rolls down. "That's an order, if you haven't realised yet."

Crossing his arms and tilting his chin up just like a teenager, Leon shakes his head slowly, "You ain't my captain, sir. And no authority to me anymore, actually."

Wesker visibly sighs and takes his glasses off, looking Leon up and down with cold gaze.

"You may no longer be a policeman, yet I am. And either you get in the car on your own or I'm getting you arrested for supposed underage drinking," he spits out. "That is the authority I have."

Sighing deeply, Kennedy gets in the car. He buckles in and presses his head against the window, glancing at Wesker's steering onto the road.

"You know I'm old enough," he mutters, as if he has just discovered that himself.

"I do. But you have no ID on you, so how would you prove that?" His answer is calm and smug, and Leon actually pats himself on the pockets, to his own horror not feeling it there. Neither the ID itself, nor his wallet. Only the cellphone, long dead. Wesker glances at him, and rolls his eyes. "I'll return it to you at the station."

"The station?"

"The underage drinking, Kennedy. Haven't I told you?"

It's three in the morning when Chris loses his patience and slams his hands against the table in complete defeat. He tried to focus on doing his actual job and getting through Barry's documentation at the same time, but time after time his mind wanders, and he thinks of Leon again. This thought of complete devastation is like a dream that comes to you all the time while you try to imagine something before you sleep. A vivid image of the worst comes up in his thoughts again and again and again and Chris gives up and gets up, grabbing his cellphone from the table.

He dials in Leon's number and waits patiently, not thinking of anything, forbidding himself any worries or hopes. Simply calling his favourite person. Checking in to see if he's doing fine. 'Do you miss me, baby?' Chris thinks smiling softly. But the line falls dead, and the lady's voice reminds him that Leon's phone is turned off, that he's unreachable and out drinking, and most definitely is not in his right mind, because Chris knows Leon and he knows how Leon acts, because they've been together for long enough, and if the world let them, Chris'd marry him, buy a house together, and spend the rest of his life with Leon by his side, because he's never loved anybody as much and cherished them with such heartache as he does with Leon.

Chris rubs his face and walks out of the office, back in the main hall. picks the stationary phone up and dials in their home number and waits and waits and waits. The line beeps monotonously and Chris lets out a huff when the phone finally gets picked up.

Jeremy's furious voice on the other side comes in loud and clear.

"What the fuck!?" he seethes, evidently tired and sleepy.

"Sorry," Chris mumbles, then gets straight to the point, "is Leon home yet?"

"Hell do I know!? I'm not his mum."

"Could you please check on him? Maybe he came back while you were sleeping, or—"

"So you are aware I was sleeping, great, thank you so much, best roommate ever. If you wake me up again, Redfield, I swear, I'll plunge this fucking phone up your ass when you come from your shift. It's three in the fucking night!"

"I'm sorry. Please, just check if his shoes are—"

"No."

"Jeremy, please," Chris begs.

"I mean, no, he's not there yet. Now stop your calling. Night."

The phone slams with a loud noise on the other side of the line, and Chris lets it be. Closing his eyes, he sighs deeply and lets out a shaky breath. It's going to be okay. It's going to be fine. All right.

"We don't pay you to make phone calls, Redfield!" Loud voice appears from behind, and Chris turns around, noticing Chief's large figure on the other side of the hall.

"I'm on my break," he seethes, trying to keep calm. He must be grateful that he still has a job, not causing a scene to lose it. But he just can't help himself. He stares at Irons as if he's personally offended him. Why, he did. "I can call as many times as i decide to while I'm on my break."

"Don't get smart with me, Redfield." Irons gets closer and practically growls in Chris's face. "You think you have any right to talk to me like that? Know, I've seen what you are, Redfield. The only reason why you still got this job is because Wesker is a bitch that decided to keep you."

Chris gulps, but doesn't move; he keeps looking at Irons with the same expression as if waiting for him to do something radical.

"But don't think you're untouchable now. One complaint about you, and you'll be out on the same street your fucking queer friend is. As soon as you do something wrong, poof! You're gone." Irons straightens out and squints with disgust, like standing that close to Redfield was filthy and unbearable. "Just give me a reason. I'll put you out myself."

His tone was menacing, low, and rumbling, and Chris wants to puke from the pure filth seeping from Irons's words. He stifles the desire to shiver and dutifully nods, making sure to raise his chin up with a small smile.

"Noted, sir. If you'll excuse me, I have a job to do," slipping past him, Chris walks towards the stairs. And only when he hides behind the closed door of the S.T.A.R.S office, he lets himself shake this wicked feeling off.

Irons's pure hatred that now clung to Chris like a cloud of smoke made his hands shake a little when he got to his table. Staring blankly at the papers in front of him, grateful that Rebecca left for a shooting range for her break, Chris finally lets himself shudder and sob once, before swallowing this putrid feeling and taking it like a man.

He needs to think of something pleasant. Something that makes it worth living through it all. Blinking away the phantom feeling of wetness on his eyes, Chris reaches for his drawer and pulls it out, rummaging through it quickly. The folder is found quickly, and Chris pulls out all the pictures he hid before. Leon stares at him proudly from these, smiling and hopeful, so happy, so familiar, Chris gulps once more and forces out a grin. Placing a picture beside himself, he gets back to the documents.

Time passes quickly after that. He grows gradually more tired and hopeless, since he's heard no news, but got a bunch of weird looks from his colleagues from other departments.

Something tells him the fact has spread, and by lunch there'll be no soul unaware of the tragedy of Redfield and Kennedy. He has sensed Rebecca's staring for the past two hours, and now, the more people get in for their day shift, the more vulnerable he feels. He has though of coming out before. At least to his closest coworkers, those he could call friends. But revealing something, anything about himself put Leon at risk automatically, and Chris would never do that to him. So he kept that secret. But there is secret no more, and only the time, the next ten hours tops will tell him whether he made great choices with his friendships.

He still feels Rebecca staring from behind her computer screen. It's closer to the end of her shift, and she has started to slowly get ready to go home, and so Chris tries to ignore it.

All is well until she comes up to him herself and taps on his shoulder.

"Did you need anything?" he asks, not tearing his eyes away from the evidence spread on his table.

"Uhm, no," she says quietly.

"If you don't mind then," he gestures at the case files before him.

Rebecca keeps silent for some time, and then finally sighs. "I wanted to tell you that you are very brave. And I'm really proud to be your friend. That's it. If you ever need to talk to me, or… or just chat… I'm here."

Chris stays quiet for a moment, and then turns to her with a soft expression.

"Thank you." He says. "I mean it."

After that, they don't talk. Chris is busy with the case, with only half of his mind actually present and focused, since he keeps thinking back to Kennedy and whether he's got home safe, and Rebecca has her own thing to do. And once she leaves when her shift ends and other colleagues start to filter in the office, Chris feels himself at his place. It is very early in the morning, and even if the news are spreading, he surely has some time on his hands to sit calmly without a dozen of eyes on his back.

In this moment he decides that if Wesker can't manage to persuade Irons about Leon, he's resigning today. He really doesn't need to put himself through the hell for no reason. They can always start anew together, Chris will make sure of that.

His resolve is strong right until the moment Jill clocks in.

When he sees her entering the office half an hour before the morning shift, he knows he is just a scared man, who pretends to be something he's not. Because of all friends he's ever had, Jill would be the one losing whom would tear his heart out and leave him a very, very broken man. That's why he doesn't dare look her in the eye when she sets her coffee mug down and yawns and stretches and complains about the coffee shop she frequents not opening until ten in the morning. He nods along, smiling when needed, and hopes she doesn't stop talking to him when somebody tells her.

When she knows he's gay.

God, he hasn't been so scared to admit he's gay since he was a teenager and had to confess it to Claire because he was so infatuated with a boy from across the street he couldn't keep it in. He wasn't even half this scared when Leon suddenly asked him whether he loved men on those damn swings three years ago.

Maybe his keeping to himself was the thing that made her notice, or she, too, was just talking to keep her mind off the fact that her best friend, apparently, slept with other men, but Valentine is the one to finally break the act and pull him out of the office.

The quiet hallway is dimly lit by the sunrise. It hits through the windows in pale yellow rays and settles on dusty floors in precise rectangles that stretch all over the hallway. Jill is walking in a slow and relaxed tempo, sipping her unsweetened coffee with nothing written on her face. Chris knows for a fact she loves it sugary, but only gets it the way she wants from that coffee shop she can't stop mentioning. He smirks when he thinks about that poor barista that probably sees her every single day he works and serves her something disgusting, because in no world Chris himself could handle the sheer amount of sweeteners she insists on. And he knows a decent sweet-tooth, both his sister and boyfriend adore syrups and sprinkles. And at that quick though of Leon Chris falls back into this uneasy feeling. Great. Right.

"Something on your mind?" Jill pushes him with an elbow and Chris shakes his head no. They stand in silence and don't break it unless somebody passes by and avoids Chris's greetings like a vice. "Alright. Is it true?"

"Depends on what you want to know," Redfield's voice is more bitter than he wanted it to be, but he can't help himself. Though he wants to apologise, he doesn't. After all, he has no idea how Jill will react. God, he knows his friend, they've been working together for such a long time, he should be aware of her social standings, why the hell hasn't he asked before!? Is this how Leon feels constantly? Is this what goes through his mind with every single passerby coming closer? Oh god, Chris is the worst boyfriend ever. To think he never even bothered to understand Leon's fears to any extent that was not 'well, he's scared he'll be outed and lose his job'.

It's not about his job. It's about everything. Every single connection, every single person you could've ever liked, every single habit you could've had, because the moment the world knows — you're gone for the world. Nothing is ever the same. The things you'd love to keep the same change irreversibly, and the things you wanted to change with the newfound truth about yourself never do change. The worst parts of everything stay the same, while you're at a risk of losing every single good thing that has ever happened to you. This is why Leon is scared. Because despite what he says, he still attaches to people and places, and these things are the only things he ever has to lose.

And when you lose everything else, it's just a matter of time when you lose your closest people.

"So I take it that's true." Jill sighs and looks at Chris's sour face with a warm expression. "Just so you know, I think you're good for each other."

She finished her coffee and shrugs, but Chris can see how tense she is through the corners of her mouth. Jill notices him staring, so she adds, smiling, "also, it was kind of obvious. I mean. Poor Claire third-wheeling in all your pictures."

Chris laughs at that and pulls Jill in a tight hug, but when her hands crawl up his back, he can't help himself; he sobs shakily and squeezes his eyes shut. Jill pats him on his back.

"That's just not fair." He whispers, clinging to her, because that's what he needed. To cry in someone's shoulder, because he is so tired he can't go on.

"And when is it?" She answers and Chris nods, because he knows it way too well.

"I'm worried he's gotten in trouble. ‘Cause he went out drinking and his phone's dead and I know him and he's a pain in the ass when it comes to this, but… I just want him safe, that’s it. God, I'm so glad I have you."

"Don’t mention it. You're gonna introduce him properly, though?"

"Yeah, yes. Yes. God, he's gonna kill me."

"I'll be a witness, don't worry. I won't let it turn into a cold case."

They walk back to the office in high spirits, and Chris, despite it all, hopes the day only gets better from here. It can't, but he's allowed to have dreams. Some minutes later, while Jill and Chris discuss work matters at the large map hung onto the whiteboard, Wesker comes up to them and startles the living hell out of them, because he's standing right behind, silent and menacing.

"Redfield." He says after Chris mumbles a good morning. "You do remember the deal, don't you?"

Chris nods hopefully, suddenly radiant and wide-eyed.

"Don't smile that much, it didn't work out." Chris's face falls in a second. "But remember our arrangement. I need you to get the new S.T.A.R.S member on track. They're waiting for us at the shooting range, hurry up. Valentine, good work. Keep it up."

They walk to the shooting range in silence. After Wesker told Chris to leave his cellphone and just follow him, leaving him no way of contacting Leon once more to make sure he's got home safe, Chris follows him a little angry, though stifling the feeling in his throat. He's sure Wesker really tried to, and he's grateful for that, but it doesn't really make him any happier. Having no way of being there for Kennedy, Chris can only bite his lip and force out a confident look. After all, he's better make a good impression on the new guy. They had an empty table forever, and the Bravo team really needed an extra hand, so if this new trainee is good enough, Chris won't feel as bad turning in his resignation.

"You'll have twenty minutes for the briefing, then I expect you back at the office. Get him on track. And, Chris," Wesker stops before the door, "be a professional."

He pushes the door open, and lets Chris inside, and as soon as he raises his eyes to greet the new recruit, he freezes on spot, then snaps his head to the side to see if Wesker's jesting. He's not.

In the room, standing still in his brand-new uniform, a little dishevelled, yet still himself, smiling and so, so happy, is Leon Kennedy. He looks tired, his hair, though combed through, is still a mess, and there are bags under his eyes, but he is Leon. Chris barely holds himself in place to not start running to him, and he turns to Wesker with an enormous smile, "thank you. Thank you, really."

"This isn't a favour for you, Chris. Though I might dislike you, Kennedy, you are a valuable asset and I hope you do well in the team. Don't disappoint me. Twenty minutes, Chris. Then I'm waiting for you. Be quick." He leaves, the unspoken 'I did it because I hate Irons just as much and I want to laugh in his face' hanging in the air, though neither Chris nor Leon could care. As soon as the door closes and they're left alone, Chris can't stop himself.

"So it was your doing," squeezed by his boyfriend's arms, Leon lets out with a laugh.

"No, not really. I asked him to talk to Irons about you, but I have a feeling he skipped that step."

"I think so."

"How'd he even get you here?" Chris asks incredulously while rubbing Leon's cheek.

"Found me in a bar. Don't ask." Leon shook his head. "Said he's taking me in for underage drinking. He nicked my wallet. Then gave me two hours to 'make myself presentable' and kind of forged my signature on the new documents."

"Holy shit, Wesker," Chris huffed and smiled. "So, how does it feel to be a rookie again?"

"Well, my colleague is holding my waist already, sure that's a violation and I should take it to the HR."

"We don't have HR, not in that sense," he laughs.

"God. Chris. Twenty-eight." Leon whispers to him, leaning in and hugging him tightly.

"I love you too, so much."

It was a week before Jeremy sat them down and explained that he personally had no issue, but people at his job and his family were of other views, so he really hated to break the lease, but he needed to look for another apartment. Now, standing alone at their kitchen, having Jeremy's keys on the table beside them and the notice from the landlord about eviction, Chris knows that that's his cue. He stares at Leon, who's crossed his arms and looked out of the window with an unreadable expression on his face, and decides once and for all.

"You know I love you very much?" He starts, walking up to him from behind and resting his chin on Leon's shoulder.

"Do you want to move out too?" Kennedy jests in return.

"Fuck you."

"That's fourteen, you," Leon says in a smart tone. "Or thirty-two, if you have preference."

"How about seventeen?" Shut up and listen to me. "I wanted to say, how about we get a place of our own? I wanted to buy a house for a while now, so if you want to come live with me, then… I'd love to."

"Are you serious?" Leon gets out of Chris's hold and turns to look at him.

"I've been saving money."

"You'll need them to figure out where to stay now. Thanks to Jeremy we have to sleep outside. Or in my car. Which do you prefer?"

"We can stay at my place." Leon's staring gets more and more confused. "Technically, it's the flat I left for Claire to somewhere to live when she comes back to Raccoon after college, but I doubt she'd mind our stay. It's small but nice."

He looks at Leon with honest and yearning eyes, hoping he agrees to move in together, to live with him, to spend the rest of their time being an item, being official. A one solid thirteen. But Leon looks a mix of offended and infuriated, his mouth goes slack and he stares at Chris with utter disbelief.

"Are you telling me you had a fucking apartment this whole time?"

"It's Claire's."

"She's at college! Shit, why'd you even ask me to move in here in first place! Why live here!?"

"Imagine how it'd look if I came up to you being like, hey, new guy, come live with me at my place. Also I'm gay and I have a fat ass crush on you. Wanna date?" Chris throws his hands in the air. "I wanted to get to know you first before making any moves. What if you were insufferable? Or didn't do dishes?"

"Now that sounds creepy when you put it like that," Leon laughs and leans with his back on a windowsill.

"But it worked out, right? I had to find Jeremy first, just so you didn't sniff a whiff of my oh so cruel and evil plan, boo." Smiling widely, Chris comes up to Leon and puts his hands on his waist, leaning in and leaving a peck on his cheek.

"Can't believe that worked on me." Shying away from the kiss, Leon giggles.

"Me neither."

"But I'm glad it did." He says with utter sweetness in his voice. "So you say Claire doesn't mind, right?"