Chapter Text
CHRIS, FALL 2013
It doesn't come as a surprise when he's benched after China - he probably shouldn't have been in the field to begin with. But despite knowing it's logical, Chris is mad about it. He's kept for observation for a while, plenty of doctors of both the physical and mental varieties poking at him as his memory fully returns.
After he's cleared by medical and then spends a miserable solid week alone and only leaving his room at HQ for food, he calls Claire to see if he can come stay with her for a bit.
"What the hell were you thinking, back in the field like that?" Is the first thing she says to him when he arrives in DC, and he gives her a tired glance.
"Nice to see you too, Claire."
"Christopher. I love you, but what the hell. I didn't even know if you were alive for months and you're telling me you went to China for that whole thing when you barely remembered your own name? Explain yourself." She glares at him from the drivers seat of her little sedan, in which she's picked him up from the airport, and in which he's sitting like a cartoon clown with his knees up to his chest.
"I will, I will. It's…an extremely long story. Can we at least get food first?"
Claire sighs, nods, and tells him to order pizza. Their orders haven't changed since they were kids - medium veggie for her, large supreme for him. She stops to pick it up and then pulls into her apartment complex, a simple brick building with minimal landscaping.
"Okay, start talking." She orders once they're inside and situated with pizza and drinks.
He takes a deep breath and starts with Edonia.
"God." Claire whispers, eyes wet as she reaches for him in a tight hug. "God, Chris, I - I'm so sorry."
She'd met Piers a couple of times, when their schedules had lined up enough that they could come to one of her backyard barbeques or she could drop by to visit them at HQ, and she knows enough of how close they are - were, god - that he can see the sympathy in her eyes.
"He called me, when you went missing. Promised to find you. I made him promise to keep you safe when he did. Fuck." Claire's voice breaks, and that's all it takes for Chris to let himself fall apart too.
"He kept that promise." Chris chokes out, sick with grief and exhaustion and the heavy weight of being left to carry on. "I almost hate him for it. But I could never - " He cuts himself off, but Claire knows him too well to let it lie.
"You love him?" Claire asks, achingly tender, and Chris can only look at her in response, tears falling freely. He's beyond thankful for her keeping that statement in present tense because - yes, he can admit now that he loves Piers, he always will.
"I - didn't, it wasn't like that. Well, I think, it could've been, on my end, but he didn't know, I wouldn't, I…was his captain." He hurries to explain, tripping over the past tense, but Claire shakes her head.
"You'd never be inappropriate, I know." She soothes him, passing over the tissue box. "I just mean…I know it always hurts to lose someone but that's gotta hurt more, for you specifically."
He nods, miserable. "It does. I trusted him with my life, he did know that. And I was going to pass it all on to him, step back. But I can't do that now, and I'm - I'm so tired. I don't know what to do." He sniffs, leaning back against the couch. Claire follows, leaning on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist.
"Take your time. You don't have to have it figured out right now." She murmurs. "You and I both know grief isn't linear."
"Yeah. I love you."
"Love you too. I'm glad you called."
Chris lays around Claire's apartment for several weeks, occasionally being dragged out to help her run errands or just to get out of the house for a walk or a gym trip. She even convinces him to come with her to a pilates class, where he promptly gets his ass kicked by a petite and extremely enthusiastic woman in a perfectly coordinating workout set. Claire spends the entire class trying not to fall off of her machine laughing at him, and it's probably the most fun he's had in about a year.
It's Jill who calls him back to New York, with good timing, too, because Claire's got an assignment and she's used up most of her vacation time but he can tell she's reluctant to leave him alone. There's information about a new virus surfacing, and even if he's not going to be allowed back in the field yet, HQ wants him nearby.
"Don't you dare disappear on me again, okay?" Claire orders, squeezing him tightly in the airport departures lane.
"I won't, I promise." He kisses the top of her head fondly. "We'll do better about keeping in touch, yeah? I'll text you when I'm back in New York."
"I'll hold you to that." She nods, waving as she gets back in the car.
He keeps his word and texts Claire when his plane lands, hopping in the car BSAA's sent for him. He texts Jill on the way to HQ, as he's planned to meet her there. It's been a long road for Jill, too, regaining her mental and physical strength after Wesker. He's glad to see her acting more like herself, and glad to be back with her, even if they're stuck in HQ together rather than on the field.
She's in his office already when he arrives, despite the fact that he's sure it was locked when he left, but he knows better than to ask how Jill Valentine got into a locked room. She offers him a fistbump and hops up onto his desk. "How's Claire?" She asks, and he knows it's a carefully veiled question about how he's doing as well, but he takes the out gratefully.
"Good. Off to save the whales somewhere, I think."
"Sounds like Claire." Jill tilts her head at him, a silent reminder that she's there, and he smiles in response. The moment breaks as a commotion starts up in the hallway, and she leans around him to see what's going on. "There's been chaos all day. Sending a squad out this evening, and yes, I already confirmed we'll both be in the operations room."
That's as close as he's going to get to being allowed out for now, so he'll accept it. He's not sure he's ready to be back in the action anyway, not if it means having to work with a new lieutenant. The mere thought hurts and he takes a deep breath, compartmentalizing. "Sounds good. Wanna grab dinner first?"
"Lead the way, Captain." Jill slides off his desk with a joking salute, letting him exit the door towards the dining hall.
DC's leading the squad being sent to investigate this new lead, and Chris tunes in through his helmet cam as they approach the location, lights dimmed in the ops room to make it easier to see though the green tint of night vision. Next to him, Jill's screen has split feeds of the other squad members, and she's scribbling down notes on a digital copy of a map.
"Moving in." DC says, and motions the squad to fan out around the building. Chris leans back in his chair, eyes tracking the bobbing of flashlights at the edge of the camera. DC pushes the door open and a low murmur ripples through the room in HQ as they take in the carnage. "You guys picking this up?" DC asks quietly.
"We are." Chris responds. The volume and splatter of blood across the walls and floor - and even the ceiling, as DC glances up - is a pretty clear indication of something non-human. Non-human and violent. A growl echoes through one of the feeds on Jill's screen, and Chris leans over to watch.
"Captain, we've got BOWs!" The squad member calls, and DC's camera swings towards them, bobbing as he jogs in the direction of the growling.
"Wait - look at that desk?" Jill interrupts, and the camera motion ceases as DC looks down at the desk in question. "Twist all the knobs to the left, then press in the top two." He does, and a drawer releases with a sheaf of papers in it.
"Thanks, Valentine." DC grabs the papers and tucks them away just as gunfire rings out from the other squad members, and Chris watches the growling zombies fall, but more start to shamble in and the squad backs up. "Anyone see anything else useful?"
A chorus of No Sir! rings out.
"Okay. Move out! We got what we needed. Nadia, get ready to go."
"Yes sir!" Nadia chimes in over the sound of the Osprey's blades whirring to life, and Chris keeps an eye on the cameras until everyone's safely aboard and headed back.
LEON
A massive arm swings at him, and Leon dodges neatly, sliding underneath a table for a moment of cover. The lab, latest on the seemingly never-ending list of Neo-Umbrella pop-ups, was known to contain BOWs, but none of them were expecting this massive, mutated creature. Leon carefully reloads his weapons while he's in relative safety - the thing is clumsy but strong. He'd taken one hit that left him breathless and reeling, and he's pretty sure he can't take another without some serious damage.
Across the room, there's a digital sort of beeping from the computer that Fox had sent him to before the door was destroyed by the BOW, and then his comm crackles. "Data transfer's done." Fox says quietly, even though he's not the one hiding under a table.
"Great. Get out of there, Leon." Hunnigan instructs, and Leon peeks out, trying to see if there's a way to do so.
"I'd love to. But did we forget about the elephant in the room?"
Fox snorts, and Leon's mouth quirks up in a smile before he can help it. Unfortunately, he likes Fox. He was fully prepared to stay prickly until DSO got tired of keeping tabs on him, but after a good number of missions together they've developed a steady rapport. There's something about the man that puts him at ease. And the fact that he laughs at Leon's jokes helps, too.
"We did not." Hunnigan responds dryly. "Fox, if you'd be so kind?"
"On my signal, run like hell for the east door." Fox orders. "Close your eyes. 3, 2, 1 - GO!"
Leon's eyes snap shut just in time for something to explode across the room, and as the BOW turns toward the sound with a roar he sprints for the indicated door, smacking a hand onto the access panel and diving through as soon as there's enough space. The door locks behind him, and hopefully that's enough to keep the creature distracted and not chasing after him.
"What the hell was that?"
"Hacked the lab system when you completed the transfer and blew up a chemical tank." Fox sounds smug, and honestly, he deserves it. Not that Leon's about to admit it out loud.
There's one more section of the lab he hasn't been to yet, and he follows instructions from his earpiece to navigate to the door. And then, of course, he has to go locate a goddamn crank to get the thing open, which results in finding another room full of zombies, and all in all by the time the door's open Leon's low on ammo and irritated.
"This had better be worth it." He says to nobody in particular, and starts down the stairs.
FOX
He's feeling rather proud of himself after the stunt with the chem tank, and while Kennedy's sorting out the door situation and heading to the lower level, Fox pulls up the data transfer that Kennedy had gotten from the lab. Parts of it are encrypted, and he starts up their decryption software in the background while he reads through the accessible files.
There isn't a lot of particularly useful information in the unencrypted files, and he idly copies over the few bits of relevant intel into the document that will become his after-mission report. The decryption program starts to spit out files, the smaller ones first, and he settles more comfortably in his chair, stretching his achy right shoulder.
In his ear, Kennedy grumbles about zombies interspersed with the sound of gunshots, and Hunnigan scolds him about staying focused. It's a nice little routine that the three of them have developed - at least in Fox's opinion. He'd been worried after the cool reception to his presence after the first mission that he'd never be allowed to work with Kennedy again. Fox isn't under any illusion that his presence is wanted, but it's at least tolerated.
Fox is working his way through another of the encrypted files when he senses someone walking behind him and turns to find Viper approaching his desk. He mutes his comm quickly so as not to distract from the mission and nods politely. "Sir."
"Fox. How's it going?"
"Going well, Kennedy got the data transfer from the main laboratory and is finishing a sweep of the lower level."
"Excellent. You have the files?"
"Yes sir, they're being decrypted now." Fox gestures at the computer screen, where the green progress bar is steadily inching towards 100%.
"Good. As soon as they're decrypted, send them to me. No need for you to look through them."
"Sir?" Fox asks, confused. Thus far it's specifically been his job to look through the encrypted files, but this is by far the largest batch of them. "I don't mind looking through them, I've got plenty of time."
"That wasn't a suggestion, Fox." Viper smiles, but his tone is deadly serious. "Send them to me. Finish your after-mission report with the unencrypted files and any information Agent Kennedy finds on his final sweep."
"Right. Yes sir." Fox keeps his face carefully neutral as he turns back to the computer and hears Viper leave back to his office. It might be his imagination, it might be his instinctive paranoia, or it might be actually something, but he makes a mental note of the rather odd interaction.
"Fox?" Hunnigan asks in his ear, tone indicating that this isn't the first time she's said his name, and he tunes back in.
"Sorry, boss was asking about the files. What'd I miss?"
Kennedy huffs a laugh. "Oh, not much, just a chainsaw-wielding zombie trying to cut me in half. Ya know, average Tuesday."
"Yeah, sure." Fox responds with a little laugh of his own. "You ready to get out of there? I'll do the electronic locks for you again."
"My hero."
Once Kennedy's safely out of the lab and en route to the extraction location, Fox signs off with a cheerful goodbye and puts his earpiece down, swapping it for a set of headphones so he can listen to music while he works on his report.
Without the extra files, the report is light on information, and he's done in record time, sending it off to Viper before he pulls his phone out to see if Davies is free to go work out together.
The metal hand is a little finicky with phone screens still, and apparently today's a day that it's not going to work. Fox sighs as he shifts it to his left hand, only to slip and drop the phone on the floor. He growls in frustration, and then promptly suppresses a yelp as what feels like an electrical current shivers up his arm accompanied by a faint blue spark.
"What?" Phone forgotten, Fox inspects the metal, flexing his fingers, but anything out of the ordinary has disappeared. He considers going to ask medical, but he's set to see Dr. Garcia next week; he can probably wait until then.
With a deep breath, Fox retrieves his phone and manages to send a message left-handed, headed towards the gym without waiting for a response. Even if Davies isn't around, he needs to go for a run to clear his head.
Three miles in, his friend's familiar grin appears to the left of his treadmill and Fox slows and stops, removing his headphones.
"What's up!" Davies reaches for a handshake, pulling him in to pat his shoulder. "Heard my favorite workout buddy got let outta the computer lab?"
"Hey, man." Fox greets him. "Yeah, boss gave me a break. How's the leg?"
"Better every day, dude. Jenny thinks I could be back out in the field as soon as next month."
"Hell yeah, that's great news!" The sentiment is genuine, but there's a tinge of envy in Fox's stomach, wishing he could be back out in the action. His body remembers it, even if his mind still can't grasp the memories.
"Yeah, yeah, I gotta get back in the shooting range. I don't know how you do it." Davies grins as they make their way over to the weights.
"You know, I don't either." Fox laughs, and Davies snorts in response. He's been pretty open about his memory loss, and it's clear Davies wants to be respectful, but he thankfully follows Fox's lead on how to act and at this point if he doesn't joke about it he'll lose whatever of himself he still has left.
"Whaddya say we hit the range after dinner?" Davies puts his weights down, swapping out the heavier ones for Fox's PT-approved set without comment as he takes over spotting.
"Oh, you need me to kick your ass into gear?"
"You know it. 85% headshot accuracy when you had to relearn to shoot three months ago…" Davies shakes his head. "I know you think you were military before, but damn, I'm surprised you weren't special forces or some shit."
"Maybe I was," Fox shrugs as his weights rest on the floor between sets. "DSO's got all types, or so they tell me." Based on his muscle memory, he's completely certain that his shooting skills have diminished, so Davies' point about special forces is a good one. He'll have to keep note of that. While it may be more difficult to track down any record of himself if he was special forces, it certainly narrows the pool of possibilities.
Fox and Davies' usual dinner table is tucked away in a corner of the mess hall, where nobody ever follows. It's less than ideal, but also better than the first days of Fox's time at the DSO facility, where he resorted to eating alone in his room rather than deal with the unfriendliness of the other operatives.
There's a new agent on base, a young woman with dark braids pulled back out of her face, and it looks like she's having a similar issue with unfriendliness, as not one person at the other tables acknowledges her presence. Fox catches her eye and smiles in a way that he hopes looks friendly and not creepy, and she approaches them with caution.
"Is it okay if I join you?" She asks.
"Yes, of course." Fox assures, tugging the chair next to him out in an offering. "The dining hall puts you back in middle school, doesn't it? I'm Fox, this is-"
"Juan Davies, but everyone just calls me Davies." Davies sticks out a hand to shake hers across the table once she's put her tray down.
"Olivia Roberts. Call me Olivia, please, Roberts makes me sound like my dad." She shakes Fox's outstretched hand, barely pausing at the metal, and he's silently relieved that she's not going to be weird about it. "Just Fox, or…?"
"Just Fox." He responds firmly, and she nods.
"It's nice to meet you both. I'm coming from the FBI, to train in field ops support, but they've got me here for conditioning and firearms training." She makes a face. "The support part of that led me to believe there would be less physical work involved."
"Oh, well, you've met the right people." Davies grins. "Fox is the best shot around and I am currently being re-conditioned after an injury. Someone's been cooped up in the computer lab so I've lost my workout buddy."
"Don't let him fool you, we were at the gym 20 minutes ago." Fox rolls his eyes, chewing on the leather-like piece of meat they're trying to pass off as 'steak.' "Planning on hitting the shooting range after dinner, actually, if you'd like to join?"
"Oh! I mean, if that wouldn't be too much trouble? I'd like to familiarize myself before I have my initial assessment on Friday."
"Nah, you're welcome to join!" Davies responds. "You can help me knock Foxy down a peg. He's entirely too good a shot for someone who got a whole new arm last year."
Olivia giggles, and then looks briefly horrified. "Sorry! Was that rude?"
"No, no, you're fine." Fox smiles reassuringly. "Davies is just jealous I've got most of the shooting records already. And I don't mind talking, or joking, about it."
"Can I ask - ?"
"What happened?" Fox nods. "Yeah, the short of it is I got infected and nearly died. Lost the arm, part of the vision in my eye, and my entire memory."
"Oh, shit." Her reaction is laughably human, and Davies makes an amused sound next to him.
"Yeah, that about covers it." Fox shrugs and offers her a smile, giving up on the meat and finishing his green beans.
Olivia's originally from Boston, they learn, and her dad is a retired Marine who was excited to see her swap from FBI to DSO. Davies shares stories about his older brother in the Navy, and Fox scrapes his fork against his plate quietly, wishing he could remember anything about his family. The doctors had said his emergency contact list only had his unit captain on it, so he's assuming either he doesn't have family or he's not in contact with them. They wouldn't even tell him anything about his now-former captain, only that he'd been on the mission with Fox and had already been sent back out by the time he woke up.
"Ready to get your ass kicked, man?" Davies' jovial tone snaps him out of his spiral, and Fox quickly reaches for an expression that's more cheerful than he feels.
"I'm ready to watch you embarrass yourself in front of our new friend." He replies with lighthearted snark, and Olivia laughs again.
"Oh, you've got nothing to worry about from me. I barely passed my FBI sidearm qualification."
LEON
From: Unknown Number (Maybe: Sherry Birkin)
Hey, Leon, it's Sherry. Hunnigan gave me your number. I know you're on a mission right now, but let me know when you're back in DC and maybe we could meet for coffee?
Leon's been staring at the message since he unlocked his phone post-mission to find it sitting there. He'd first panicked and called Hunnigan, worried it was a trap, but she'd laughed at him and said she had indeed given his number to Sherry after the situation in China. Just talk to her, Hunnigan had said. As if it were that easy.
Okay, maybe it is that easy.
To: Sherry Birkin
Hey Sherry, good to hear from you. I'm back if you'd still like to get coffee.
It's mere minutes before he gets a response, and the text ping startles him away from where he's blankly staring at the microwave that's rotating his dinner.
From: Sherry Birkin
I'd love to :) How's tomorrow around 9am, at that corner shop near DSO HQ?
To: Sherry Birkin
Sounds good. I'll see you then.
The microwave beeps, and Leon extricates his slightly sad no-longer-frozen burrito. 9 am is early for him, but it's not like he's got plans beyond sleeping and eventually dragging himself to work to finish his mission report.
The alarm beeps shrilly in his ear, and Leon rolls over with a groan. At least the first post-mission sleep in his own bed is usually decent, with the added bonus that his injuries this mission were limited to superficial cuts and bruises.
He's got enough time to shower and shave before he goes to meet Sherry, and by the time he's out of the shower he feels a little bit more awake and alive.
It's cold in DC, but not cold enough to stop him from walking instead of dealing with the hell that's downtown parking, even on his bike. For their own convenience moreso than his, the apartment he's been stuck in is close to DSO HQ and the walk takes him under 30 minutes.
Sherry's standing outside the cafe, hands tucked in the pockets of her puffy white coat, and she grins at him with a level of happiness to see him that Leon doesn't really think he deserves, not when he hasn't seen her or reached out in years.
"Leon!" She exclaims, immediately reaching for a hug. "Thank you for coming."
"Hey, kid." He returns the embrace carefully. God, it's been a minute since anyone hugged him. "Thank you for asking. Shall we?"
He buys her coffee, waving away protests, and they sit side-by-side at a corner table, both of them just a little bit too tense and too aware of their surroundings to put their backs to an exit.
"So." Leon starts, after they've sipped at their coffee and the silence is just starting to become awkward. "How've you been? I'm, uh, glad you got out of China safely."
"Thanks to you, I hear." Sherry says with a smile. "And thanks to Chris. Although I still feel awful about his lieutenant."
"His lieutenant? Nivans?" Leon echoes.
"Yeah, you didn't - ? Oh. Um, yeah, he didn't make it out."
Shit, Leon hadn't heard that. To be fair, DSO had been on his ass the moment he crossed back into US airspace, and it's not like he and Chris see each other much without either a global disaster or Claire's involvement. He - really should check in, though. From speaking to Claire and the little he'd observed, Chris had been close with his second-in-command.
"Sorry." Sherry laughs nervously, and Leon realizes he's been quiet for a bit too long. "Uh, didn't mean to bring the mood down."
"No, no, I was just thinking I - should probably talk to Chris more often." Leon says. "What about your…friend? How's he doing?"
"Jake?" The way her expression goes soft around the edges says a lot of things without her having to say them out loud. "Officially, he provided C-virus antibodies to DSO, was compensated for his time, and returned to life as usual."
"And…unofficially?" Leon raises an eyebrow at her teasingly.
"Unofficially, well, he can't visit the US very easily, but. He's got my number." There's a hint of a blush on her cheeks, and he grins, genuinely happy to see her happy. Sherry continues to recount the whole series of events that had led her to Edonia and later to China, and Leon explains what he can from his end of things as well, and that leads them into a discussion about what's been happening over the past several years with Simmons.
Their drinks are long gone by the time they take a break from talking, and Leon checks his watch to find that it's already past noon.
"Do you want to go grab some food?" He offers tentatively. This is the most normal human interaction he's had in months, and he's also realizing that he's missed Sherry. Claire's more to thank for raising her, for keeping her company while Simmons was controlling all of their lives, and he may be pissed as hell about that entire thing but he'll never regret what he's done to keep Sherry safe.
"I'd love to." She responds, and they leave the coffee shop together to find somewhere to eat.