Chapter Text
Grace Ashcroft was always fascinated with the world of bioterror.
She supposed it came with growing up surrounded by the most diabolical industry secrets just a few feet away from her at all times, ready to be exposed in a scathing article.
Yes, her mom hid them very well and never let her see anything that could make her into a target, but it wasn’t like she didn’t know what her mother wrote about. It wasn’t a secret between them.
So, from a young age, she found herself on forums, reddits and whatever else, joining discussions about the latest attacks.
Like the New York A-GUA tanker attack, that one was so cool, specifically because there was now a lot of New Yorkers that could tell you what it was like to be a B.O.W. first hand. (the local therapists had to make bank after)
Or the Bakers’ family series of disappearances… Though she didn’t like thinking of that particular forum discussion after… Anyway. Grace knew all these incidents had people behind them. Not only as perpetrators but as the heroes that saved the day.
So, when she eventually joined the FBI as an analyst, there was a part of her just giddy at the thought of having access to some of the case files associated with these incidents; knowing just a little more about how the day was saved.
She of course took her job seriously, not even attempting to look into anything that wasn’t strictly related to her investigations in the first few months, but once she did, she came to know them.
See, whenever there would be a crisis big enough for the BSAA to step in, a rather funny fact of their organization would make itself known…
The first letter of an operative’s surname was all Grace had access to, due to all the redacting in what little files the BSAA shared with the American government. And by reading through several of the ‘big’ cases(not so big to be completely redacted, but big enough to warrant people of lower clearance having access to the available information), Grace realised with no small amount of humour that most of their top operatives’ names started with the letter R.
New York, China, Africa, hell even what little the BSAA shared of the Bakers, all overseen and resolved by a mythical BSAA R operative or Captain.
It has crossed her mind before that maybe even the initial was fake, literally standing for ‘redacted’ but she didn’t exactly have many synonyms that would explain the other blacked out names.
Sure, Africa’s operative A could stand for ‘amended’ but Lanshiang’s operative N and Italy’s special agent V stumped even Grace’s skill with a thesaurus.
Which led her to believe the BSAA just really liked people with last names starting with R.
Though, whenever she was feeling down, she liked to imagine all the different Commanders and Captains and Operatives as the same mythical “superhero” BSAA soldier. It felt nice to imagine (if only for a moment) that wherever a bioweapon would spring up there would be an immovable soldier to meet its unstoppable force, saving the day.
But of course, no one person could do all that.
“You have a message from Captain Redfield.”
The name didn’t even register as special through the wave of relief going through Grace; they were being rescued, they were going to make it.
Leon sighed beside her, his shoulders relaxing, clearly recognising the name, “Lay it on me.”
The helmeted man chuckled, “You’re lucky you’re alive because I’m going to kill you.”
Grace stiffened at the threat briefly, before hearing Leon let out a laugh of his own, “Yea yea, tell him I love him too.”
Leon got up with a grunt and then helped Grace up as well, putting a reassuring hand on her back, “Easy, these guys are friendlies.”
He turned back to the helmeted man, motioning to Grace’s injured side vaguely, “Prep medical, got an SI. Dr. Ugly stabbed her with a tentacle.”
Only once outside and miles away, sitting in an ambulance, wrapped in a trauma blanket and cup in hand did the name Redfield spark curiosity in Grace. Leon just gave her the news that Emily might just make it out as well when the BSAA logo on… everything, really, registered.
“I thought you were DSO.”
Leon’s eyebrows briefly shot up before he processed her unspoken question, his hands idly working on ungloving themselves, throwing the pieces of leather on the ground uncaringly.
“Oh, these are Chris’ guys. He’s the uh. Captain Redfield.” he looked around conspiratorially, smirking, before he pulled out a simple silver band from one of his back pockets and put it on his finger, wiggling the now ring wearing left hand cheekily, “Redfield-Kennedy, between you and me… and the state of New York I guess.”
“Oh! Okay.”
Diversity win! Two apparently incredible men in the fight against bioterrorism were gay married. Huh. Actually yea that was quite the win.
And then Grace realised: Redfield. She probably just got rescued by one of the legendary R Captains. Privately she hoped it was the one that worked on the Bakers incident, there were a few things she really wanted to ask him about.
The sound of a helicopter drew near, Leon tracking it in the sky behind the ambulance, “And while we’re sharing secrets, I don’t usually wear this at work, but I need a peace offering via a reminder that he decided to put a ring on it.”
The helicopter touched down, the rotors still spinning when the doors slid open, revealing a massive man. Maybe this was boulder punching (former, now promoted) Operative R?
He stopped by the helmeted operative from before, exchanging a few words before being pointed to the ambulance, Leon waving softly as the man turned towards them fully, striding in their direction with a truly terrifying set to his brows. It made Grace freeze a little, though as Leon really didn’t seem in any sort of fear of what his husband might do to him, she tried to relax herself by joking, “Heh, w-well you could have picked a better murder witness than me.”
Leon huffed a laugh, slightly turning towards her, “Please, there’s no one I’d have as witness to my murder than the bravest FBI agent I know.”
Grace blushed a little at the praise, but before she could respond the unstoppable Redfield finally deemed he was close enough to yell.
“LEON!”
Leon put his hands up placatingly, “That’s my name.”
Chris closed the last few feet and grabbed Leon by his collar, seemingly planning to lift him up, before something broke in his expression and he stilled, his brows still set terrifyingly and hands clutching the collar’s fabric.
“What the hell were you thinking Kennedy, a fucking mission to Raccoon City of all places? In your condition?” his shoulders shook slightly, his anger slowly cracking to reveal worry, “You know how terrifying it was to find you gone after having to pick you up passed out in the shower the day before?”
He let go of Leon’s collar and started checking him over, “And fighting a nemesis? Leon, you can’t do this to me, lot my family is fucking dying, you included, and you decide the-”
He stopped, stunned, holding Leon’s hands, staring at the soft pink web of scarring which replaced the sickly black.
“The illness. Is it? Does this mean?” Chris’ voice wobbled dangerously.
“Cured. More than bad memories in this place turns out.” Leon’s voice was carefully steady.
Grace couldn’t see his face, but she suddenly realised Leon probably also put the ring on for his husband’s sake: to solidify that it’s really him. That he’s alive.
“Oh thank god.” Chris enveloped the other man in a tight embrace, murmuring something Grace couldn’t make out into Leon’s neck, Leon replying in the same hushed tone as he hugged back.
Grace looked away from them awkwardly. She hasn’t known Leon or this Chris guy for long, but they both seemed very anti PDA. At least while at work. So the intimacy of this hug was therefore a bit much. Hell, it probably would have felt a little much even if they were the most pro PDA people ever.
She busied herself by once again thinking about something that has been bugging her all night: Leon Kennedy. Surely not of the Kennedy Report, right? Grace hasn’t read it, but she knew of it. She was pretty sure everyone who was in any way involved on interested in bioterror knew of it.
Funnily enough, reading anything even vaguely associated with the DSO, basically FBI’s sister organisation, was akin to just turning her monitor off, Grace’s level of clearance allowing her access to only the names of files (sometimes not even those) and the vaguest of declassified information. Whereas she could read most BSAA files just fine, save a redacted name or detail here or there, despite them not being associated with the government at all.
So while Grace somewhat understood that Leon was probably a big deal, she couldn’t quite get as exited about it as about the potential of which Captain R Chris could be.
The men broke apart, Chris finally acknowledging Grace, eyes still shining with tears Grace politely ignored as she snapped her attention back to them, “Is this the involved FBI agent?” his posture and tone were serious again, the sudden switch up almost gave Grace whiplash.
“Um. A-Analyst. Actually.”
Leon nodded as his husband’s eyes softened at the word analyst; probably not a fan of field agents, “Uhuh, she was kidnapped by the bad guys and,” he paused dramatically, “she’s the one who figured out how to cure us.”
Grace blushed at the praise, looking away, fidgeting with the lukewarm cup in her hands, “I-I didn’t really figure it out. Um. Spencer did. I j-just put in a password.”
Chris looked lost in thought for a moment, “Spencer…” he sounded a thousand miles away, before he shook his head, breaking himself out of whatever trance he was in, taking a step towards her, as Leon huffed a laugh next to him, shaking his head knowingly.
“Can I hug you?”
Oh. Grace didn’t expect that request. She expected something more interrogation flavoured. But well. It kinda made sense? He was just told she was the reason his husband was alive.
She awkwardly put the cup away and opened her arms, “Erm… Sure?”
And as she got picked up from the ambulance in a bear hug, blanket and all, held against a massive and warm chest and thanked tearily about saving the lives of people whose names she tried her best to remember, which BSAA Captain R Chris was suddenly wasn’t on her mind at all.