Chapter Text
They seemed to be the only occupants of the abandoned industrial complex, aside from the dust.
It was the middle of winter, and it was cold. Somehow, the building felt even colder.
The only sounds of that place came from the team. The sound of boots, the soft click of radios, and the controlled breathing of men and women who had seen enough horrors to know that true danger rarely announced its arrival.
Chris was at the front of the formation. At least that part of his life still made sense.
After everything that had happened in Romania, and after Miranda and the BSAA scandal, trust had become hard to give.
The exhaustion only made that worse.
To his right, Jill watched the flanks, her eyes swept across doors, windows, and blind spots without wasting a single movement. She wasn't just a combat partner, she was a source of trust and she knew how important that was for Chris. She was worried about him because of the recent events, of how his emotions could cloud his judgment , she wanted to be sure that he would have at least her. She wanted to be there for him, like he was for her.
Behind them, the rest of the squad advanced in tight formation, no one spoke without need.
Chris didn't like it, they had been deployed to investigate a suspected large-scale biohazard outbreak, an incident serious enough to justify sending them, yet even for an abandoned facility, there was something wrong with that place.
There were no bodies or dried blood stains, no signs of fights against BOW. There was nothing.
As they advanced through the facility, something changed, while the desks in the old offices remained in place, the chairs were neatly aligned, doors were closed, and corridors were free of debris. There was a smell, not of decay, not of death, of people.
Everything looked frozen in the exact moment life had abandoned it, but someone was there.
Chris felt the suspicion rising in his chest, after twenty years, he had learned to read environments in the same way people read books. That place reeks of ambush.
“East sector clear on thermal,” Jill reported through the comms. “Nothing moving. Not even rats.”
Chris took a moment before answering.
Not even rats.
That bothered him more than it should have.
“I prefer it when they come running at us,” Vásquez muttered from the left side of the formation.
A few restrained breaths escaped the team, but not Chris.
“Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open.”
There was no harshness in his voice, only experience.
He felt cold sweat running down the back of his neck despite the temperature. The sensation was familiar, the feeling of being watched. The scars weren't only physical anymore, Chris no longer believed horror followed rules. He no longer believed monsters were always the things with claws and teeth.
Lately, one thought kept returning.
The BSAA is compromised.
He didn't know how far the corruption reached, or whom he could trust. He didn't know who, on the other end of a radio, was still fighting for the right reasons.
He started to question every mission.
Then the team entered a narrow corridor, preparing for anything, Chris took the lead. If something happened, he would be the first to face it. Jill stayed at his side while the others closed ranks behind them.
Then they heard footsteps from somewhere deeper in the corridor, running, clearly not infected.
Chris barely had time to ready himself, when the figure burst out of the darkness at full speed and slammed directly into his chest.
The impact was brutal, it would have knocked a smaller man off his feet. But Chris gave only half a step back, absorbing the force. His body reacted before his mind could finish processing the threat. Twenty years of combat had turned instinct into reflex, and his hands were already moving. One grabbed the intruder's shoulder and the other found cold metal. The man was armed.
With a violent twist of his wrist, Chris executed a disarming maneuver. The pistol slipped from the attacker's grasp and hit the floor with a sharp clatter, but the man was no amateur.
Instead of losing his balance, he pivoted on his heels with elegance, his hand moved toward his back, freeing a tactical axe from its sheath.
The strike came low and fast. Whoever this was, he knew exactly what he was doing.
Chris dodged by mere inches, but he didn't retreat. He knew better than to give the man more room to move. Instead, he stepped forward.
He invaded the other man's space, pinned the weapon arm against its owner's body, drove his shoulder forward, and slammed the attacker into the concrete wall.
The impact ripped the air from the man's lungs.
Chris maintained the pressure, his forearm pressed against the man's throat, the axe trapped between their bodies.
They froze there for a moment, faces inches apart, then the tension in the attacker's body faltered, his eyes widened, and a rough voice broke free from his throat.
“Chris, stop!”
Chris froze.
The team's flashlights converged at them, and for a second, Chris saw only fragments.
A familiar jawline, the tired blue eyes, the messy light brown hair falling across his forehead.
Then he recognized him.
“...Leon?”
Leon let out a short laugh through his nose.
“In the flesh. And about one second away from putting an axe through your ribs.”
Chris kept hold of him for another moment. Old habit, maybe suspicion, maybe both.
Only then did he ease his grip and step back, though he didn't lower his guard completely.
Leon slipped away from the wall with indifference. The first thing he did was adjust his jacket, and then he ran a hand through his hair, pushing the fringe back in a gesture Chris had seen countless times before.
He straightened his shoulders, brushed the dust from his sleeves, and smoothly returned the axe to its sheath.
Within seconds, there was no trace of the man who had just been pinned against a wall.
Now, Leon was only confidence, a crooked smile appearing on his face, the kind that never reached his eyes.
“Well, well. Look who it is. The BSAA's Golden Boy.”
The pause that followed was deliberate, the smile narrowed.
“Assuming people still call it the BSAA these days. I heard such awful things about it”
Chris felt his jaw tighten. That familiar irritation.
He knew that tone, Leon always hid behind sarcasm when things became serious. Years ago, Chris might have found it amusing. These days, it only tested what little patience he had left.
Chris knew the jokes were an act. Leon had seen too much over the years, and Leon knew the same was true of him.
Flashlight beams cut through the dust, and three red laser dots danced across Leon’s dark jacket.
Finally, Chris spoke.
“What are you doing here, Leon?”
His voice came out low.
Leon blinked slowly.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“What my team is doing here is classified.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Leon’s mouth. He didn’t need to answer.
The expression said it clearly enough: so is my mission.
A silence followed, behind Chris, his agents remained in firing positions, and even Jill still hadn’t lowered her rifle.
Chris could feel the weight of her gaze between his shoulder blades. She was watching him, not Leon.
She saw the muscle ticking along Chris's jaw, the way his knuckles had gone pale. Small things. She knew it was important, Leon tends to make people punch him and lately Chris was very punching. She thought to herself she should charge Leon for her silent protection of his face.
Leon glanced down at the laser sights tracking his chest.
“So?” he asked, tilting his head. “When exactly is the model team leader going to tell his men to lower their weapons?”
Chris said nothing and Leon’s smile widened slightly.
“I’m just one guy, unarmed. I'm not a threat.”
“Everyone in this building is a threat until I decide otherwise.”
“Wow.” Leon let out a theatrical sigh. “That sounds exhausting.” His eyes swept over Chris’s face.
“No wonder you look like that.”
A few members of the team exchanged quick glances.
Jill lowered her eyes for a brief moment.
But Chris ignored the remark entirely, his thoughts were already several moves ahead.
He couldn’t let Leon disappear, not until he knew why a U.S. government agent was operating alone inside a facility connected to a possible bioterror incident.
And he certainly wasn’t going to shoot Leon Kennedy.
That left only one option.
Chris stepped forward, the physical difference between them suddenly became evident. They had known that since China. Leon was faster, but Chris was stronger.
“You’re coming with us, Leon.”
The smile faded from Leon’s face by half a degree.
“No.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
“I know it wasn’t. It’s still no.”
Chris held his gaze while Leon folded his arms.
“You know, I’m not entirely comfortable standing alone in an isolated place surrounded by heavily armed men.”
He paused briefly.
“Even if one of them is you.”
The words hung in the air, Chris understood it perfectly. If their positions were reversed, he would be doing exactly the same thing.
The same distrust keeping Leon rooted in place was the same distrust keeping Chris awake at night.
But understanding didn’t change the situation.
Chris moved, far faster than a man his size had any right to be. His gloved hand closed around Leon’s arm just above the elbow. It was firm leaving no question about his intentions.
And Leon went still, but he didn’t pull away.
The two men stared at each other, they were both men who had survived bioterror wars, impossible monsters, and entire governments. They knew how to recognize a threat.
They were just trying to decide whether the other was one.
Without releasing Leon’s arm, Chris turned his head slightly.
“Lower your weapons.”
The order came out low.
There was a moment of hesitation, one of the agents looked toward Jill seeking confirmation. Jill studied both men for a second, then she gave a single nod.
The rifles lowered, the red laser dots disappeared.
Leon watched it, and then he looked down at Chris’s hand still wrapped around his arm. Finally, he raised his eyes back to Chris.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“Guns down, but you still have your hands on me.”
One eyebrow lifted.
“I’m not sure if I should feel safer or less safe.”
For a second, nobody said anything, then Chris did something rare for this days.
He smiled.
There was no warmth in it, only exhaustion and just enough irony to return the jab.
“Don’t worry, Kennedy.”
He tilted his head toward Jill.
She stood at his side, motionless, rifle lowered but ready, her eyes however, were a mix of amusement and tiredness with the situation.
“I’ve got a woman on the team.”
Leon blinked, genuinely surprised, then he let out a low laugh.
“My God.”
He shook his head.
“That was...something. Do I sound like this?”
For the first time, the faintest hint of a smile touched Jill’s lips and Leon continued now talking to her.
“I think the years are finally starting to affect his judgment.”
Chris narrowed his eyes.
“I’m still managing to keep you in one place.”
Leon then slightly dropped his head to the side, a small charming gesture, that made Jill question not Chris age, but Leon's.
“And you’re still holding my arm to do it.”
“Because you keep trying to leave.”
“I haven’t even started yet.”
The remark earned a few uneasy looks from the team. Chris, meanwhile, simply tightened his grip a fraction, just enough to make his point.
Leon smiled.
“There he is. I knew you missed me.”
“Don’t make me change my mind.”
“Which one? Taking me with you, or not handcuffing me?”
“Keep talking and find out.”
Leon laughed again, but behind the sarcasm, there was something else, Jill noticed, he was nervous, and that worried her, what in this world can make him felt like that?
Chris didn’t let go of Leon’s arm, and Leon didn’t try to pull away.
Whatever had brought Leon here, she doubted they had heard the last of it.