Chapter Text
It’s Claire who notices first.
It was the first time they had seen each other in months, finally having a brief moment of rest in their turbulent lives. She thought it had almost been too easy to get him to go out to lunch with her, having prepared more energy than needed to convince him to take a break. But here they were after one phone call.
Now they walked side by side, her arm looped around his as they walked to the restaurant she picked out. They chatted about things that didn’t matter as they walked; small talk that buffered any real thoughts that were probably too mournful of the world to discuss now. She knows he had returned recently from a mission. While he came back relatively unscathed, she knew the mental toll would be as indescribable as it was every time one of them had to face the darkest depths of humanity.
Leon had always been fast. Quick on his feet, quick to react, quick to make decisions. She remembers their first meeting, where his fast reaction time not only stopped him from shooting her, but saving her from an attacking zombie. They had been so young back then, fresh and terrified. Yet Leon was always able to make the decisions needed to survive, without hesitation. It’s what always made him such a good soldier in the war against BOWs.
So when they went to cross the street, it stung in Claire’s mind when she was the one to jerk them out of the way of a speeding car running a red light. They crashed to the ground, landing in a heap on the crosswalk, having narrowly avoided the large truck.
Claire pushed herself up quickly, scanning herself for injuries before turning to Leon. He was staring forward blankly as he sat up on the ground, like he had still hadn’t processed what just happened. She did a once over, noticing the tears in his jeans but no real injuries.
Her hands settled on his shoulders, which he seemingly did not notice. “Leon,” She started softly. “Are you okay?”
His eyes snapped to her, wide with pinpoint pupils. Beats of silence passed, and now they were starting to get surrounded by concerned onlookers, huddling around them in the crosswalk. She pressed her mouth into a thin line in annoyance at their surroundings and moved her hands to Leon’s hands, pulling them both up off the ground. She turns to the concerned faces around her with a confident and firm smile, hoping to deter them from any questions.
“Don’t worry, we’re fine!” She exclaims. “Really. We’re just going home now.” With that, she grabs Leon’s upper arm and drags him through the small crowd and back the way they came, veering towards where they had parked their bikes together in a small lot. Even now, Leon’s steps were halting and staggered.
She sat him down on a bench outside the lot before starting with her hands on his shoulders, shaking him a little. “Leon, what the hell was that?! Are you okay?” His head leaned forward, his disheveled bangs hanging over his eyes. A moment passed, before he took a deep breath through his nose and leveled his eyes at her.
“I’m fine. That was just… unexpected.” He said slowly and deliberately, face neutral in the familiar mask he wore when talking to a civilian. Claire narrowed her eyes at that. He was hiding something, not letting something on to her. What could it possibly be, that he wouldn’t tell her, his best and longest lasting friend. But she knew that if he was going to act like this, she wasn’t going to get answers out of him. At least not yet.
Claire dropped her hands from his shoulders. The intense stare from Leon’s sharp blue eyes told her that he definitely wasn’t going to be reasonable now about it. So she let out a soft sigh, turning towards the lot with their bikes.
“As long as you think you can drive yourself home. You’re not drunk, are you?” She asks, taking a glance to look at him from the side.
Leon huffed, almost offended, as he stood cracking his neck. “No, it’s illegal to drink and drive.” He said, in a poking manner.
Claire rolled her eyes, knowing that if he was able to be difficult, then he was over whatever just happened. Still, she gently touched the tips of her fingers to his arm. “Really Leon, if there’s something going on, I’m here to help-”
“It’s fine,” He cut her off, briskly walking to his bike. “We’ll have to reschedule. Hunnigan sent me an email.” He looked down at his phone, typing away at something.
Claire knows him well enough that he was pretending, feigning some work obligations to cut into the only hour they would’ve had for themselves in a long time. “Yeah, we’ll have to.”
She went to sit on her own bike, watching as he quickly started his bike which roared to life, and he spun out of the lot and into the streets of the city. She put her helmet on as she thought to send him a lecturing text about not wearing his.
***
Sherry is the second to notice, sitting across from him in a small cafe. Leon was staring out of the window with a faraway look, chewing at his lip. It was a rare sight that she hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Dad…?” She ventured, leaning to the side to try and get his attention. He looked back at her startled, like he didn’t expect her to be there, despite them walking in together.
“I- Uh, I was just-” He was cut off by the waiter coming by and setting down two cups and a plate with pastries. Sherry thanked the waiter as he left, eyes glancing to the side at Leon, who had quickly grabbed his mug and took a gulp of black coffee. She pulled her own mug towards herself, briefly looking down at the swirling heart on the top of her latte.
“It’s been a long couple of weeks. DSO never sleeps, you know.” Leon said, a soft and sad smile pulling at his lips. Sherry nodded at that. She knew that he would be too stubborn to talk about what was going on with him, but she had to at least be there. Well, maybe she would push just a little–
Leon’s mug fell from his hands and crashed onto the tabletop, shattering and spilling hot coffee all over his lap. He stood abruptly, swearing.
“Oh my god, Dad!” Sherry jumped up with him, grabbing from the stack of napkins on the table and trying to help clean some of the mess.
“It’s fine, I just. It’s fine.” He said, gritting his teeth. “Fuck, I just washed these jeans too.” He gave her a quick upwards glance as he blotted at the coffee on his jeans. She knew the look was supposed to be placating. But they both knew that when he was done, she would ask why he dropped it. The waiter had come rushing, asking them both if they were okay and trying to usher them to another table so he could clean up what happened.
Leon stood silently, before turning to Sherry. “Let’s just head out, I’ll buy you another latte somewhere else another time.” His eyes almost looked… well it almost seemed he was pleading with her. Not just to leave, but to leave it alone. To not mention what just happened.
Sherry felt her jaw working as she stared at him. She knew it was a habit she picked up from him, and that he could see it on her as well as she could on him. “Okay. But Dad, if something is wrong, you know you can tell me, right?” She held onto his arm as they exited the cafe, Leon having paid earlier when they ordered. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll be able to figure out some way to help.” She was an adult, dammit, and he needed to treat her like one. In the nicest way possible. She hoped she was conveying that clearly with her set stare.
Leon glanced over at her from the side and huffed softly, a fond smile on his face. “There’s nothing that you wouldn’t be able to help me with, I know. But I’m fine. Just lost my grip. It happens.”
No, it doesn’t happen. Sherry knows it never happens. It’s never happened before, ever. And Leon knows that, and he knows that she knows that. So why is he lying to her? Or at least, not telling her the whole truth.
They walk in silence back to Sherry’s car. He stands there, shifting awkwardly as she opens the driver side door. She pauses to turn back to him.
“Dad, really. If there’s something, whenever you’re ready to talk about it, please. I’m here.” Another beat of silence. She rushes forward to hug him, squeezing hard as she burrows her face in his neck. He smelled like gun oil and leather. His hands came around to hug her back, patting gently. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, Sherry. Please, don’t worry about me.” He replied.
Sherry pulled back, looking at him once at time before nodding, clamoring into her car and shutting the door. She gave him a little wave, which he returned before he turned and walked to his bike. She caught the slight shake in his shoulders as he coughed while facing away from her.
***
Hunnigan noticed third. Throughout the years, DSO Agent Leon S. Kennedy had created an image of reliability and strength that those around him looked up to, although she knows it wasn’t intentional. He never complained, he went into any situation with minimal supplies, and he always made it out in one piece. So when he called in with a painful strain in his voice, asking for backup, Hunnigan took pause.
“I need… backup. Some sort of support. Extraction.” His words were short and clipped, like he couldn’t bear to have any more for her even if he tried.
“Are you injured?" She asked over the sound of her own typing. “The earliest I could get a squad there is… two hours. Is that something you can handle? Extraction point two miles north of your current position,” She continued, looking at the ping of his communicator on the map.
Leon scoffed in fake offense on the other end. “I’m sure I won’t get eaten alive by then. I’m heading north now.” He cut the line, leaving her to her own thoughts. She did not comment on his lack of answer to her question.
The helicopter she sent for him picked him up two hours later, taking him to the nearest DSO site. She privately called and asked the pilot about Leon's condition, trying to gauge how big of a medical response would be needed if he couldn’t finish the mission alone. To her surprise, the pilot said that he seemed fine, no visible injuries. The pilot’s only comment was that he looked a little pale and wasn’t answering questions. Both common attributes of post-mission Leon. Her frown only deepened at that.
She heard later that when he got to base he brushed off the medical team sent to check on him. If he was walking and talking, then they knew they couldn’t make him. The paramedic she talked to told her that when asked about injuries, he quipped that it was nothing he couldn’t sleep off with a bottle of whiskey before disappearing into the facility. He was being difficult on purpose, she thought. She needed to pivot and change her strategy.
She called Sherry.
***
Through a stroke of sheer coincidence, Chris found out fourth. The BSAA and DSO were trying to complete a joint operation that spanned the US and Canadian border, both trying to find their amount of power in the jurisdiction struggle. A potential outbreak at a power plant sitting on a dam. Its groaning in the pursuit of generating power had quieted to nothing, and the reports from panicked locals had been beyond concerning.
His team was completing sweeps on the sprawling facility. He moved as the captain of Alpha team in the west wing, stepping down metal steps that thumped with his heavy footsteps. Leon tagged behind him, glowering as he had been all morning. They had already argued about this earlier; Leon insisted that teams weren’t necessary and it’d be easier if he went in and looked alone first and Chris had put his foot down, insisting that working in teams would be safer for everyone involved.
He knew what Leon was doing. He wanted less people to potentially die, less lives to hang in his conscious when things inevitably all went wrong. But Chris trusted his team, and knew that the burden and responsibility was on him. He simply wasn’t going to lose another team, his life depended on it. And his team listened to him over anyone else, following him into the plant despite Leon’s grumblings.
The plant was dark, having lost the power to keep itself lit. Red light bathed the halls in flashes as the emergency lights soldiered on with backup power. Papers scattered the floors, tools were left abandoned, and haunting pools and splatters of blood against deep claws marks in the ground and walls warned them that their suspicions of BOWs was more right than they hoped.
They moved silently on Chris’ hand signals, sweeping rooms with raised rifles. In a dead end room, they released some of their tension, standing in wait as Chris stopped to look at the map on his phone. Leon sighed in wait, pressing a hand to his eyes in a motion that Chris assumed was frustration or annoyance. It was so hard to tell with Leon.
“I know it’s not ideal or what you wanted. But really, it’s better this way.” He said, finding himself trying to reassure in some way.
He liked Leon, he really did. Claire always said good things about him, his reputation preceded him as a brilliant agent, and after the years Chris had finally started to get him to give more than short sarcastic responses to questions at Claire’s Annual Zombie Hunters BBQ™. It also didn’t hurt that he was beautiful in a sharp and dangerous way that made Chris almost want to give in to him. But he didn’t. He glanced back down at his map, hoping he wasn’t staring.
Leon rolled his eyes, before briefly closing them. There was that look on his face when he was remembering something. “There’s an emergency power room further down on the floor below us, I’m sure that’s why there are still some lights on. We should check-” Leon started, before he was cut off by a howl, as a pair of crawling lickers clamored out of a hole in the ceiling.
The closest one leapt at the last noise it heard, claw extended towards Leon’s face. And he just stood there, staring blankly at the incoming death.
Move, fucking move! Chris thought briefly, as his own body kicked into gear. He sent four shots into the thing’s brain as it closed in, sending it crashing to the ground. One of his men shot the other down before it could scramble from its spot on the ceiling. They all stood in silence for a long time, or perhaps a short time. Chris couldn’t tell as he worked his jaw, grinding his teeth as he processed what just happened. He spun and marched up to Leon.
“What the fuck, Leon? Why isn’t–” He stopped himself from yelling, his temper flaring, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, Leon was staring at him. It wasn’t with anger, or annoyance, or with some bitchy quip loaded and ready to go. It was wide-eyed and… scared. Why was Leon scared? Why did he seem lost?
“Leon…? Are you okay?” Chris asked softly, trying to school his expression into something calm.
This seemed to jump start Leon’s brain as he startled. “Fine.” He said strained. “I’m fine. Just didn’t expect it. We.. we need to move. We know now for certain there’s something going on here. We need to contain any outbreak.” Leon shouldered his way past Chris, faltering slightly as his eyes swept across team Alpha staring at him, before heading back into the hallway with his handgun drawn.
No other incidents occurred as they finished moving through the facility. Any undead or genetically modified creatures were mowed down easily. Leon didn’t freeze again. In the end, it turned out to be the poorly conceived and executed plan of a rogue scientist that had spent their younger years working for Umbrella. Some sort of plan to disrupt border operations that would never see fruition for some lofty unexplainable goal cooked up in the mind of the mad.
Chris watched as the scientist was hauled off kicking and screaming, shouting something about a perfect world for perfect organisms, before turning his attention back to the lone DSO agent. He was standing by himself, talking quietly into his phone. To his handler, probably. He stopped to rub his eyes with his hands.
In the light of day, Chris could see him clearly now. Dirty blond hair hung limply over his face, flattened with humidity. His face was pale, but Chris didn’t know if it was in a way that was abnormal. He was lean but muscular, hunched slightly with a posture Chris wasn’t used to seeing. With all things considered, Chris concluded that it really seemed like Leon was just… tired. Overwhelmingly and excruciatingly exhausted. He hoped he was just tired.
Chris made up his mind, quickly closing the gap between them with long strides and leaning from the side as far into Leon’s space as he knew he could get away with without getting punched.
Leon side eyed him. “I know, but I had to- I had to at least check it out. I’ll have my report finished by tonight. Yeah, yeah I’ll– I’ll call later, Hunnigan. Okay, bye.” He hung up, pocketing his phone and turning to face Chris. “Captain Redfield. I thought the BSAA didn’t need anything else from me.”
“Well, Captain Redfield doesn’t need anything,” He said dryly. “But Chris wanted to see if you were okay. What happened back there, it’s not like you, man.”
Leon’s eyes narrowed. They were piercing blue, soft shades blending in defiance of such a sharp man. “Nothing happened. I didn’t see the lickers. It’s not a big deal.” A few seconds of silence passed, before, “Thanks… for taking care of it.” He looked down and away at this, like it was almost too much for him to say.
Chris considered for a few moments. Leon would never admit there was something wrong. A memory from a few months ago dredged up in his mind, a phone call from a worried Claire asking if he had heard anything about the agent. At the time Chris was surprised but told the truth; Leon had been doing fine when he last saw him, and he didn’t hear anything bad about his operations. If Leon wasn’t doing well and he couldn’t admit it to Claire, he definitely wouldn’t admit it to Chris. But Chris felt himself stubbornly straining against that concept. He’ll be damned if he lost another man in the field, he thought to himself.
“Come back to the Toronto BSAA Headquarters with us.” Leon looked back up in surprise. “I know, I know, but we have great facilities. It's close, and the cafeteria food ain’t half bad.” Chris flashes a lopsided smile in the hopes that it’s convincing. More quietly afterwards, “Plus you can avoid the man for a bit, if you need a rest. No strings attached.”
Leon stares back in silence, his jaw working in that way it’s always did when he’s thinking. “Only for a few hours. And I’m not hurt, so I don’t need to see any medics.” He finally said, with a stern tone at the last part.
Chris grinned at him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Great! It’s settled. Let’s go.”
At the headquarters, Chris finds Leon a private room in the barracks with a bathroom attached. He leaves him to go scrounge up something from the closed cafeteria, convincing the leaving workers there to give him a leftover sandwich and a bag of chips. When he returns he finds Leon passed out of the bed, still in his clothes from the day. His holster was thrown onto the bedside table and his boots were kicked off by the door, but other than that it seemed like he went down the moment he reached the bed.
Chris gently set down the food next to the holster, before turning to Leon. His face was almost white and had a light sheen from sweat, eyebrows pinched together and eyes scrunched like he was in pain. Chris reached forward without thinking, brushing hair out of Leon’s face, pressing the back of his hand into his forehead. He was warm, but it probably wasn’t a fever. So what was wrong?
He withdrew his hand, settling on asking when Leon woke up. He would look better after some rest, surely.
When he came back to check on him an hour later, the room was empty, Leon gone in the wind. At least he took the sandwich and chips with him.
***
Jill found herself the fifth to notice, in a way she dreaded thinking back on. Carlos was right behind her.
Right now she was sitting in an uncomfortable hospital waiting room chair, leg sprawled out forward. The chair squeaked uncomfortably beneath her as she shifted, leaning to try and glimpse into the long hallway that led to patient rooms. Next to her, Carlos groaned and turned slightly to face her. He was currently asleep, seemingly unaffected by the shitty chairs they were being subjected to. She sighed, leaning back into the chair. They had certainly survived worse than these chairs, she guessed. The room was empty other than them at the late hour.
Four hours earlier, Jill, Carlos, and Leon had run into each other, guns drawn in the darkness of the facility they were searching. In frustration they had an argument; why was the DSO agent there stepping on their toes when they weren’t even in the US?
Leon was difficult about it, spitting out that it was “classified” and none of their business. In the end, that only pissed Jill off more. After all the bullshit they had been through, after enough BBQs, she had hoped that Leon would trust her even just a little. But here they were, dealing with his attitude again.
“Leon, come on man, I know that we all have the same goal,” Carlos started, with a friendly but pleading tone, holstering his weapon.
“Same goal, huh. What I have is a mission to complete. I really don’t need…” He voice was gruff at first, but as he trailed off it weakened.
For the first time, Jill really stopped to look at Leon, peering through the dark. He looked unwell. He was almost stark white, beads of sweat rolling down his face. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes unfocused, darting to the side like it might help him retain consciousness. He only had one hand on his gun, his other hand holding on near his stomach.
She quickly scanned him up and down, trying to find any visible injuries, but there were none. Not even a single drop of blood. But looking at his eyes, she knew something was wrong. The worst case scenario floated from the back of her mind to the front. Was he… infected?
“Leon,” She started, moving forward and putting her gun down. He startled at that, raising his gun higher at her. It was almost like he didn’t really know she was there.
“Woah man, relax,” Carlos moved diagonally forward, trying to inch towards Leon’s side with his hands up, free of any weapons. “We’re your friends, we can help you out, always.”
Leon started to back up, staggering until he bumped into a wall behind him. He almost seemed frozen in place. His eyes only unfocused more, until they started to roll back into his head. Carlos surged forward, catching him from the side before he hit the ground.
The mission ended up being abandoned by the two as they got Leon out of there. Luckily, the secondary team had a handle on it, clearing the facility with an “all good.”
Jill knew that Leon would be pissed waking up in a hospital, but she couldn’t shake him awake in the helicopter that picked them up. He laid prone on the ground, face still pinched in pain. She made the decision when she saw his breaths starting to catch and stutter in his chest. If his ribs were broken, there were bigger concerns than Leon’s bitching.
So here they were. When they had arrived, the medical staff whisked the unconscious Leon away, promising updates. Hours passed, and Carlos eventually fell asleep from the exhaustion of the day.
Jill stood up, stretching her legs, and wandered over to a vending machine. She punched in the numbers for a canned coffee, before deciding maybe two would be good. Both for herself, of course. She chewed her lip as she waited for the machine to slowly spiral the coffees from their spots and clattered to the bottom. No news is good news, isn’t that the saying?
Her phone buzzed as she collected her coffees, cracking the first one open. It was a text from Chris. She had called him earlier, debriefing him on the mission. His concern was centered on Leon when she had told him how it went south seemingly out of nowhere. It rose when she told him it looked like Leon had frozen.
Now Chris was texting her that he was almost at the hospital with Claire in tow. Their rare time off to hang out was being disrupted. Jill almost felt a little bad about it, but it was out of her control, and she knew there was nothing she could ever say to keep the Redfields from the people they care about.
Jill went down to the lobby to meet them, chugging her first coffee and tossing the can. She started on her second as she waited for the Redfields to arrive. As always, she could hear Chris before seeing him, his obnoxiously loud footsteps echoing on tile as he and Claire walked through the automatic doors. They both seemed a little disheveled, like they had thrown themselves together from a relaxing day to rush to be here. She gave them a small smile and waved, catching their attention as they came over.
“Jill, hey. How’s.. how’s he doing?” Chris said as he came to a stop in front of her. Claire settled next to him, an expectant look set on Jill.
“Hey. Well, let’s walk and talk.” She turned to the hallway and beckoned with a nod. The two siblings followed her further into the hospital.
“Carlos and I ran into him on a mission out near Kingston. No idea what he was doing on this side of the border, but he wasn’t doing well. I couldn’t find any injuries on him in the field, but he passed out on us. We had to bring him back, and rely on team Delta to finish the job.” She glanced down at her phone, opening her email to the last one opened. “It was a success, from what I’ve seen of the initial report.”
“So is he okay?” Claire asked.
“I don’t know. No news yet, but he’s been back there awhile now.” Jill responded with a frown. They had made it back to the waiting area where Carlos was lightly snoring in his chair. “Don’t worry about waking the beast over there.” She said with a light huff, dropping back down into her chair from before. Another gulp of coffee. Hopefully she could at least stay awake a little longer.
Claire sat in the chair next to her, leaning back and sweeping her gaze over the waiting room. Chris wandered over to the vending machine to peruse the options. Jill could see from here that he was also tired. It was a long day for all of them, and the building anxiety in Jill’s chest didn’t help at all. No news is good news, she repeated to herself.
It was another hour before a tired doctor in teal scrubs entered the waiting room. Jill stood up, the anxiety from before gripping her heart strongly now. She barely registered the others standing with her.
The doctor was still scanning his clipboard, almost like he wasn’t quite ready to look up. When he did, Jill recognized the look. They all did. They had seen it thousands of times before, and it hurt as much as it did the first time they had the misfortune to witness it.
“He’s alive, but… I’m sorry.” The doctor said. Jill could only stare forward at his sad eyes. She didn’t notice Carlos putting his face in his hands, or Claire doubling over next to her, or the increasingly common sight of Chris twisting his face in grief.
News… is bad news.