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The atmosphere in the Hound Wolf Squad’s temporary briefing room was thick with the smell of stale coffee and gunpowder.
Captain Chris Redfield sat at a desk buried under mountains of paperwork—a sight so unnatural for everyone in the room, that they had abandoned their own assignments and stopped to analyze it. He looked miserable.
“Captain’s been staring at that requisition form for twenty minutes,” Tundra whispered. “We all know he’d rather wrestle a B.O.W. than sign another invoice.”
The door creaked open, and Barry Burton strolled in, looking like the only man on earth who wasn't entranced by Chris’s aura of perpetual gloom. “Still at it, Chris? You’re going to go blind.” Barry, unlike their Captain, always carried with him a warm smile and playful attitude, like that of a grandfather. Not a single person in the squad knew what he came into the office for, he was supposed to be retired; but when Redfield was in the office, he always came by.
Not that anyone would complain, Barry rocked.
Chris grunted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Someone’s got to do it, I guess.”
“I think they’re warming you up, you know.” Barry leaned against the desk, a smirk playing under his beard, “Before you know it, you’ll get sidelined like Missus Redfield and I.”
The room went dead silent. Chris didn’t even look up, too busy tapping the table with his pen.
“Don’t let her hear you calling her that, Barry,” Chris muttered. “You don’t want to suffer her wrath.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Barry chuckled, waving a hand as he walked out. “I’ll be checking on my other kids, if you need me!”
As soon as the door clicked shut, the squad descended.
“Captain,” Lobo stammered, “You’re... married? Like, to a woman? Who lives… in a house?”
Chris gave them a look that could freeze magma. “Is there a problem, soldier?”
“No! No, sir. Just... surprised,” Lobo squeaked.
Later, in the mess hall, while the squad cornered Barry, he laughed, deep and hearty. “Yeah, he has a wife. I guess I’m not accustomed yet to people not knowing. Back in the day—hell, even before they admitted to themselves that they liked each other—they were the most famous couple in the service. Even when the job made a relationship impossible, everyone knew. You didn't see one without the other.”
“Wait,” Canine frowned. “She worked here? In the field?”
“Of course she did,” Barry said vaguely, not wanting to give much away. “but I don’t think this is a story that’s for me to tell.”
Yet Captain Redfield would never talk about this with them voluntarily, so there was only one option.
They’d have to find out themselves.
—
A week later, the door to Chris’s office didn't just open—it slammed.
Jill Valentine marched in, clutching a tablet like a weapon. She looked sharp, lethal, and utterly exhausted. “Chris, if I have to explain the logistics of the BSAA’s new containment protocol to the European branch one more time, I am going to blow something up.”
The squad, standing by the lockers, stared. Valentine was a high-ranking officer, a phantom of the old guard. She was beautiful, but possessed a cold demeanor that made most men keep their distance.
“I’m not doing much better, Jill.” He said with a smile. “You know how much I despise the paperwork.”
“I’m getting too old for this circus,” she snapped, leaning a bit more than necessary over Chris’s desk.
One of the newer recruits, a cocky kid named Miller, watched her and muttered under his breath, “Man... talk about aging like fine wine.”
Jill stopped dead. She turned her head, eyes like ice. “What did you say?”
Everyone in the squad stood motionless while Miller squirmed under Jill’s gaze. They always knew that little crush of his would be his death. “Nothing, Miss Valentine.”
“That’s Officer Valentine.” Jill said to Miller, her voice low and dangerous, then turned back to Chris, “Control your dogs, Red.”
Chris looked at Miller, then back at Jill, appearing strangely helpless. “I’ll... I’ll handle it.”
She scoffed and turned on her heel. “Do that. I’m going to find some actual caffeine.”
“Wait, Jill!” Chris called out, scrambling out of his chair to follow her. “Blue, wait up!”
The squad stood in stunned silence.
“Did he just call her ‘Blue’?” Tundra whispered. “And she called him ‘Red’? That’s... weird.”
—
“I looked it up,” Canine whispered during weapon maintenance. “Valentine and Redfield. They were partners for years. They took down Umbrella. They survived the Spencer Estate. He went AWOL to save her life when she was brainwashed by Wesker. He… punched a boulder, for her? They’ve been through hell together.”
“So... they definitely screwed around back then, right?” Miller asked, still sore from the extra exercises Chris had assigned him to.
“But… from what Barry said, one would think that Chris was already with his wife by then,” Tundra pointed out. “And their connection... it’s still there. Did you see the way he looked at her?”
The mood turned sour. The squad prided themselves on following a man of integrity. The idea of ‘Captain Cold’ Redfield cheating on a sweet, stay-at-home wife with a high-ranking officer like Valentine felt like a betrayal.
“Poor Missus Redfield,” Lobo sighed. “Waiting at home with dinner ready while he’s chasing ‘Blue’ around the office.”
—
The breaking point came two nights later. Miller had stayed late to finish a report when he passed the Captain’s private inner office. The door was cracked.
He heard a soft laugh. Then, a voice. “You’re being too stiff, Chris. Relax.”
“Hard to relax with this workload, Jill.” Miller peeked through the crack. His jaw dropped. Jill Valentine was sitting on Chris Redfield’s lap, her arms draped over his shoulders. Chris—the seemingly cold, emotionless man—was smiling like a starstruck child. He was leaning into her touch, looking more human than Miller had ever seen him.
“I’ve got you, haven't I?” Jill whispered.
“Always,” Chris replied, kissing her temple.
Miller bolted from the office. And with a heavy heart, he told the squad the next morning.
They all looked up to Captain Redfield as this perfect figure, and seeing a crack through that idealized version they had of him, had felt like a personal insult.
That had affected the team more than it should’ve.
At first, it was just cold, clipped responses during drills. Then, it evolved into pointed insubordination.
When Chris corrected a recruit's stance, they’d flinch away with a sneer. They began to treat him with a clinical frostiness, intentionally ignoring his presence in the mess hall or exchanging heavy, judgmental looks every time they caught him being a little too playful with Jill Valentine in his little free time.
Of course, Chris noticed.
Initially, he dismissed it, thinking it was just a bad week. But once the problem persisted, and he couldn’t keep ignoring it, he decided it was time to take the bull by the horns.
Finally, Chris slammed his clipboard onto the table. “Enough! What is wrong with you people? You’re acting like a bunch of raw recruits!” The atmosphere in the briefing was toxic. “I don’t care what problems you have on your daily life. In here, you are a team!”
“Maybe we just don't have your talent for leading a double life.” Miller mumbled.
“I heard that!” Chris roared and narrowed his eyes. “Explain. Now.”
“We noticed you and Officer Valentine are… close, sir.” Lobo explained quickly without meeting his gaze. “We know it’s not of our concern and we shouldn’t let it affect our dynamic, but—“
“I don’t see why what Officer Valentine and I do outside of here should matter to you.” Chris’s grip on the table was turning his knuckles white, “Lest of all why that would make you lose any respect for me. We’re not disturbing anyone’s job.”
“What I saw y’all doing wasn’t exactly outside of here,“ Miller pointed out. “I mean, I get she’s hot but…”
“What in the actual—“ If Chris hadn't been so confused, the kid would already be dead.
“We know you’re cheating on your wife! Barry told us you were married! How could you do that to Missus Redfield?”
The silence that followed was deafening. Chris didn't explode. Instead, a look of profound, weary confusion crossed his face. He rubbed his eyes.
“Wait,” Chris said slowly. “You think... you think I’m having an affair?”
“We saw you!” Miller yelled.
Chris sighed, a sound that seemed to age him ten years. He walked to the intercom. “Jill, can you come in here?” He said with a serious tone he never used with her.
A minute later, Jill walked in, looking amused. “What happened? Did you lose your keys or—“ She stopped, seeing the angry glares from the squad.
“They think I’m cheating on my wife,” Chris said flatly. “With you.”
Jill blinked. Then, she started to laugh. “Oh, Chris,” she wheezed. “I told you! I told you this was bound to happen!” She laughed so hard she had to lean against the wall.
While everyone stood confused, waiting for Jill’s laughter to recede, Lobo looked at Chris, taking note of the way he was fighting a smile while watching his partner.
“Listen, kids.” She turned to the squad, wiping a tear from her eye. “I mean, it’s flattering to know that you won’t let Chris cheat on me without giving him hell for it. But…”
The squad froze. “What?” Tundra gasped.
“I’ve spent my entire life building the name ‘Valentine’” Jill explained, her voice softening but remaining firm. “It’s on every medal, every report, every grave of every friend I’ve lost. I’m an only child, and an orphan. My father’s name ends with me, and I wasn't going to let it disappear just because I married this big lug.” She stepped over to Chris, sliding an arm around his waist. “We’ve been married for years. We just don’t feel the need to parade it around the office.”
A female recruit in the back whispered, “That’s... actually really cool.”
Chris looked at Miller, his expression darkening. “And as for you... if I ever hear you comment on my wife's ‘hotness’ again, you'll be doing laps until the next global outbreak. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!” Miller yelped, turning beet red.
As the squad shuffled out, whispering apologies and looking thoroughly embarrassed, Jill turned to Chris. She reached up and adjusted his collar, her eyes twinkling.
“I told you people would get confused,” Chris grumbled, though he didn't pull away.
“Maybe,” Jill teased, pulling him down for a quick, firm kiss. “But admit it, Red... it was kind of fun.”
Chris huffed, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through his stony exterior. “Just get back to work, Valentine.”
“Whatever you say, Captain.” She shot back with a wink, leaving him standing there, finally looking like a man who knew exactly where he belonged.
Miller watched Officer Valentine walk out of the office with an extra sway of her hips. “He’s one lucky man.” He sighed, earning a slap on the back of his head from one of his colleagues.