Chapter Text
June, 1997
News of the upcoming work trip, where the S.T.A.R.S. officers were expected to be, hit them like a ton of bricks on Monday morning. All the plans were postponed indefinitely the moment Captain Wesker notified them that every member of Alpha team was going, well, except for Brad – the lucky bastard – who had been visiting some relatives in another state.
"It’s a great opportunity to share your experience with colleagues. And I am certain," he added, his voice dropping a near-imperceptible note, "there will be no cause for concern regarding any misconduct."
While the Captain spoke, his eyebrows knit together just slightly – a gesture the team knew as a veiled threat to their wellbeing should anything go sideways.
"Oh man, I cannot wait," Chris said when they exited the office, his voice thick with excitement.
"You’re kidding me, right? We’re so fucked…" Joe shot back, crossing his arms and leaning against the gray wall of the corridor.
"What're you talking about?! It’s basically a vacation!"
"Chris, in what world can a sane human relax while on a business trip with their CO? It’s the opposite of a vacation – it’s a punishment!"
"Oh, come on, Joe! It’s gonna be fun, you’ll see. I’ve been there a couple of times; the city has plenty of places to blow off some steam."
"Yeah, right. With Wesker of all people breathing down our necks."
"All we need to do is be obedient little soldiers so he won’t be disappointed. He'll leave us be after the official part is over! It’s simple, you’ll see, buddy!"
"Somehow I doubt it..." Joe muttered, shaking his head at his friend's optimism.
~~~
The ‘official part’ turned out to be several grueling days of competition between the RC and local special teams. It was a relentless blur of range shooting, combat drills, bomb disposals and whatnot, with a customized version of the qualification drills that had Chris hitting his head against the desk more than once. Maybe he jumped the gun on this trip, after all.
Eventually, it dawned on him: they were there to make an impression on their colleagues. Considering that S.T.A.R.S. had emerged victorious more often than not, they had certainly succeeded.
The fourth day of the ordeal wore on and they were in the middle of the close combat competition when his opponent's over-eager wrenching of his arm sent a sharp throbbing ache through Chris's left wrist. Realizing the pain would not subside, he shifted his tactics, relying more on his legs and his one good arm. The pain became a persistent distraction, slowly draining his strength, but after all he managed to overcome his opponent, sweeping him off his feet.
The moment the judges declared him the winner, the adrenaline cleared his head for a split second. It was then, amidst the sparse, polite applause from the audience, that he caught it – a faint, pleased smile on their Captain’s lips. The sight was so rare it made Chris forget the pain – for a bit at least.
He didn’t tell anyone about his observation, silently etching the image into his mind.
A little later, Chris sat near the edge of the mat, pressing a bag of ice against his swollen wrist. His teammates managed to secure their victories too, and Chris quietly hoped for a break in their new routine.
After a much-needed shower, the team gathered in the briefing room, exhausted beyond measure, squinting against the bright sunlight of an afternoon that was nowhere near ending.
When everyone had settled in and quieted down, bracing themselves for whatever grueling task Wesker had prepared next, the captain announced they had earned some time off. The ensuing whoops and shouts nearly shattered the floor-to-ceiling windows, making him wince in disapproval.
"It goes without saying that I trust your discretion and restraint," the Captain said, his voice cold and precise. "You've made a sufficient impression here, and I would hate to see it plummet due to any... unfortunate hypothetical events."
"YES, SIR!" the team barked back in a ragged, joyful chorus.
"Dismissed."
~~~
“Damn, I still can’t believe that Irons of all people forked out so much for this hotel.” Jill looked around once again, clearly impressed.
The room they were currently lounging in was spacious and cozily furnished. A living area with a large couch – which Barry had already claimed for himself – and armchairs was adjacent to a bedroom with two large beds. The entire interior was washed in pastel colors and soft fabrics.
“Must be Wesker’s sway. The man could charm the skin off a snake if he had to. Or maybe he just put the fear of God into the old man,” Joe chuckled weakly, lying face-first on the soft comforter of his bed.
“I hope it was the latter.”
“Yeah…”
Having finished bandaging his wrist, Chris sighed. “Shit… I can’t even remember the last time I was that tired. I could sleep straight through to next Monday.”
“Not gonna happen, Redfield,” Jill clicked her tongue. ”We have an official authorization to unwind, so it's the bar for us. You’re not so old to just go to sleep without even checking out the local scene.”
“Fiiiine… It’s not like I was serious.” Chris stretched a little and stood up. Suddenly, his face lit up as a thought struck him. “Guys… how about we invite the Captain to join us?”
“Wesker?!” The two voices shouted in unison. Jill eyed him skeptically while Joe frantically shook his head.
“Why not? We never hang out with him. Maybe this is our chance? The man barely talks about himself – aren’t you all at least slightly curious?”
“Man, the whole point of relaxing after a shit-show of a week is to put some healthy distance between yourself and your boss,” Joe was adamant.
Barry, who had just stepped out of the bathroom and caught only the last part of the conversation, hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I bet he’ll decline, but you should probably still ask. It would be a nice reminder that we consider him part of the team, too.”
The sourness of Chris’s expression vanished, replaced by a bright smile in an instant.
“That’s exactly what I meant! Alright, I'm out.”
He disappeared behind the front door before anyone could add another word. His teammates remained behind, unable to wrap their heads around why Chris was so hell-bent on dragging their Captain along with them. In the end, they simply chalked it up to his usual stubbornly earnest self.
Since Jill was the only woman on the team, and no one in their right mind would want to share a room with their boss, they were staying in separate rooms: Jill in a single suite right next door, and Wesker in a room further down the hall.
Moving with an energy bordering on nervousness, Chris reached the Captain’s room in a matter of seconds. Raising his hand to knock, he froze for a moment, trying to find the right words to approach him, but nothing came to mind. In the end, he just knocked.
He did not have to wait long – from behind the door came the rustling of paper and approaching footsteps.
The dark oak door opened, revealing the man in question. The Captain looked as if his workday had never ended – still in his uniform and ever-present sunglasses. Over his shoulder, Chris caught a glimpse of the coffee table with two neat stacks of documents on top.
“Redfield.” Neither Wesker’s tone nor his face betrayed any surprise at his pointman’s sudden appearance. “How may I help you?”
Chris nervously scratched at his neck.
“Uh, Captain, it’s… We- I mean, Jill, myself, and the guys – are heading out to the bar in a bit. And, uh… we were wondering if you’re interested in accompanying us, maybe?”
Wesker’s pale brow rose slightly. “I am not interested in ensuring your safety while you all are willingly imbibing excessive amounts of alcohol.”
“No, sir!” Chris stammered, trying to collect his thoughts. “What I mean is... we just wanted you to join us and relax a little, that’s it. You’ve been working as hard as any of us – hell, even harder! You deserve a break.”
As Chris blurted out his monologue in a single breath, Wesker tilted his head almost owlishly, as if he were observing a puzzling new specimen that required further study. Once he was sure Chris had finished, the Captain nodded slightly.
“I see. But before you try to use any other argument, I shall decline. It would not be wise for me, as your commanding officer, to participate in such activities. Furthermore, I have no interest in visiting bars or other drinking establishments.”
Chris deflated like a punctured balloon.
“Oh… okay, sure. Yeah, that’s probably better this way, I guess?” He took a small step back, then another. “Just… don’t overwork yourself, sir. And don’t worry – we’ll behave.”
“Good. Then you should go. Miss Valentine just stepped out into the hallway and looks quite hostile. As I recall, that is her natural reaction to exhaustion.”
Wesker and Chris turned their heads and – yep, there she was, impatiently tapping her foot, impressive scowl on her face.
“Yeah, right… I’ll go then.” Chris reluctantly nodded and moved away. Merely two seconds later, he heard the soft but firm sound of a closing door, followed by footsteps fading away.
Despite her obvious irritation, Jill welcomed him with a knowing look.
"Come on, Chris, it was inevitable. You've got a big heart, but Wesker is a hard-ass, and I just don't see him 'fraternizing' with subordinates," Jill said, sympathetically patting him on the shoulder.
The door to the guys’ room opened at that moment, and Barry and Joe emerged.
"Well, well, well... I guess we've been saved," Joe heaved a sigh of relief, noticing Chris's apparent frustration.
"Shut it, Joe," Jill elbowed him a little too hard. "So, are you ready to go, Redfield? I'm physically unable to waste any more time."
"Yeah, sure. Let’s see what the local bars have to offer.”
~~~
They were through their first round when Chris almost spat out his beer.
“Oh, shit! I forgot that I promised Claire I'd call her back. I’ll be right back, ok?”
“Sure, sure.”
His first thought was to use the bar’s phone but it was so loud in here, that he probably wouldn’t be able to hear himself, not to mention his sister. The payphone it was, then.
“Hey, sis, whassup?”
“Chris!” It was clear Claire was happy to hear from her brother. “How’s the trip been so far? Did you all manage to get into trouble already?”
“As if! It turned out the whole trip was just to one-up the local special forces. We’ve been shooting, fighting, and – ugh, I don’t even want to think about it. It’s been the longest four days of my life!”
Claire sighed sympathetically. “So, will they give you some time off?”
“Yeah, Wesker let us off the hook today, so we’re at the bar already.”
Chris fell silent, listening to Claire chatting about this and that. He already felt better just hearing her voice; the tension of the past days finally began to ebb.
“...and that nice place we went to? The Botanical Garden! It’s really beautiful; they have flora from all over the world. I know it’s not typically a place you’d choose, but really-”
That caught his ear.
“Wait, wait. The Botanical? That might… that might actually work...” Chris muttered thoughtfully, his face lighting up a little.
~~~
All this nonsense with the S.T.A.R.S. evaluation, which Umbrella had ordered him to supervise, was starting to grate on his nerves. There was an exhausting amount to take into consideration, a mountain of factors and indicators to monitor, all while tolerating the incompetence of the local staff and managing his own team. Multitasking wasn't difficult for him – he wouldn’t have agreed to lead a special forces unit in the first place. But the entire endeavor felt as if he was under too much scrutiny, too. He couldn’t let this continue for much longer; otherwise, he would be forced to postpone and rethink his own plans.
The last two sheets went into the folder with the completed evaluation charts, and Wesker exhaled slowly through his nose. With the reports finally out of the way, he still had enough time to calculate his next step. At least there was no need to worry about Ada – their last communication session had been right before the trip, and there were no issues regarding her presence in the lab.
His train of thought was interrupted by a knock. He turned his head toward the entryway but didn’t move otherwise. The person on the other side of the door, however, was irritatingly persistent and knocked again. It was better to deal with it now.
Of all the possible visitors, the most likely candidate was one of his own subordinates, unfortunate enough to have to inform him of the others' latest misdeed.
Wesker sighed, stood up and went to answer it.
As it turned out, it was not the case.
The opened door revealed none other than Chris Redfield, whose face was now more determined than before.
“Chris.” Wesker let a hint of irritation slip into his voice. “It’s been quite some time.”
Chris smiled blindingly. “The Botanical garden.”
Huh?
Wesker remained silent, his impassive expression a sharp contrast to his racing thoughts as he tried to decipher the course of events. Finally, he simply asked: “What?”
“Have you ever been to the Botanical garden here, sir? See, I realized asking you to a bar was kind of short-sighted. But you need some downtime. And I figured that a botanical garden would be more up your alley, Captain.”
Really, now?
“It’s quite an interesting assumption, Redfield.” He smirked slightly, already going over at least half a dozen possible scenarios in his mind.
None the wiser, Chris shifted on his feet.
“It’s just that my sister Claire mentioned that place. She’s been there once and was very impressed.”
Interesting.
“Does that mean your aim is to impress me, Chris?”
It wasn’t his intention, but Wesker suddenly found his pointman… blushing?
Hmm… Not what I expected.
It seemed, he needed to decode this reaction in its entirety. And what would serve this purpose better than the field test?
Chris shook his head vehemently, clearly out of his element. “N-no! It’s… I just-”
“Alright.”
“Um… Alright?”
“To answer your question – no, I’ve never been in this city’s Botanical garden before. So, my answer to your next question is yes, I’d like to visit it.”
In the silence that followed, one could have heard a pin drop.
Having the situation under control again, Wesker decided to make a last check.
“I presume the others already headed there?”
Chris’s widened eyes gave him all the confirmation he needed for now.
“The thing is… they opted for a bar, sir. So it’s just the two of us.” Chris laughed awkwardly.
“Oh. I see.”
~~~
“I’m just saying it’s unusual, Joe! Look for yourself – strobe lights, smoke screens you name it. And all this is during a test! It’s like they were trying to get a rise out of us on purpose.”
“I did notice it too, Jill.” Barry agreed, unhurriedly drinking his beer. “Looks like they’ve improved the FNT.”
“Yeah, so what?” Joe laughed victoriously. “We beat it after all. How about we drink to that?” He raised his glass and his squad mates followed his lead.
It was the third round they were going through and the mood at the table had already improved; a conversation proceeded freely and the S.T.A.R.S. members noticeably relaxed. They were sharing one joke after another when the bartender drew their attention.
“Is there a lady here named Valentine?” His deep voice boomed across the bar.
“Who’s asking?” Jill called out.
“Some fella named Chris.”
Jill looked at the others in surprise but stood without delay and gestured for the phone. The bartender pointed toward the backroom, and she left.
“What’s that about?” Joe thoughtfully hummed.
“I hope he didn’t find trouble already,” Barry muttered. Knowing Chris, it was entirely possible.
In the meantime, Jill was at the phone. “Hey, Chris, where the hell are you? It’s been like an hour already!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry, Jill. Plans suddenly changed.”
“What do you mean? Don’t tell me you’re gonna crash back at the hotel!”
“No, no, nothing like that! There’s just a place I need to visit – nothing sketchy, I promise. I hope you won’t be pissed. You’re not, right?”
“That’s fucking suspicious as hell, Redfield. How about we wait for you?”
“No need to, Jill, really. I’ll skip out on today,” Chris sounded apologetic. “Don’t worry about me. I just need some time for myself.”
“Huh. Okay. Suit yourself.”
“Thanks.”
Just as Chris was about to hang up, Jill stopped him: “Hey, Chris?”
“What?”
“What’s her name?”
“…Shut up.”
The rapid pips of the busy signal filled the receiver. Jill smiled to herself and left the back room.
“Chris isn’t coming,” she announced, sitting down at their table. The other two stared at her with a mixture of surprise and disappointment.
“What? Why?” Joe blurted out. Jill looked smug.
“No can do, buddy. Looks like there was a sudden change of plans.”
“What, he’s just gonna sleep like he said?” Joe drawled incredulously, but Jill just smirked.
~~~
During the taxi ride, Chris tried a few different topics for a small talk but failed miserably; Wesker’s answers remained sparse. Thankfully, the drive was short, and ten minutes later they were standing in front of the main entrance to the city’s Botanical Garden.
“I must admit, your choice of activity was a surprise for me, Christopher,” Wesker commented as they neared the tall gray building with its barrel-vaulted roof of metal and glass. There weren't many people around, so they were able to go inside without having to weave through a crowd.
“So. What route do you have in mind for today?” The man asked mildly, looking around.
Chris tried to recall Claire’s description of the place; he was sure she had mentioned a bio-dome and even a Japanese garden.
“Sir, I’m not gonna pretend to have the slightest knowledge of botany, besides those stories about the Arklay flora. Looks like I might be at your mercy here,” Chris smiled sheepishly. “I only know there’s a bio-dome somewhere, so maybe we could head there first?”
“Good call. Let’s start there.” Wesker nodded approvingly. “How is your wrist, by the way? I noticed you’re trying not to use it much.”
“I’ve definitely had worse, don’t you worry, sir.” Chris gratefully answered.
Positively responds to signs of care.
“Try not to aggravate your injury.”
~~~
It turned out Wesker was a walking encyclopedia. Chris couldn't at first grasp how one person could know so much. But after a while, he found himself just listening to his Captain's explanations of one species or another. The man was genuinely remarkable at it, making every complex detail sound far simpler than it really was.
They didn’t head to the bio-dome right away, instead taking a route through the nearest orangery – an impressive old building of red brick with tall windows and glass roof.
The moment they entered, Chris felt as if he had stepped into a library – it was so quiet inside. The plants here grew in pots, so many of them that he didn’t even know where to focus. His confusion must have been written all over his face, and Wesker smiled amusedly before beginning an impromptu lecture, his voice echoing confidently through the sun-drenched spaces of the greenhouse.
Listening to the various facts about plants, Chris suddenly realized that he was actually enjoying himself, and it was all because of Wesker. It was such a stark contrast to their usual dynamic; only here, away from the office grind and the hardships of their missions, was he finally able to peek behind that wall of professionalism and detachment.
“Chris.”
“Huh? Yeah?” Redfield jolted out of his thoughts. Wesker was staring down at him, a strange smirk playing on his lips. “Sir?”
“I would advise you against touching this specimen.” The Captain nodded at something mere inches away from Chris's right hand.
Chris stepped away for good measure and eyed the beautiful, lush bush with narrow dark-green leaves and bone-white flowers. Now he was able to notice its sweet almond scent.
“It’s poisonous, right?”
“Certainly. It is Nerium oleander. All its parts, without exception, contain several compounds highly toxic to humans and other mammals alike, though certain avian species can consume it without consequence.”
“Beautiful and lethal, huh… Nature is something else, right?” Chris hummed in wonder, still looking at the plant.
You have no idea, dear.
“And how… do I recognize oleander poisoning? I mean, hypothetically speaking?” Chris asked.
Wesker raised a brow. This abrupt outing was beginning to yield some unexpected results.
Despite all his impulsiveness and cockiness, Redfield was shaping up to be a decent pupil. He listened eagerly and sought more information, not afraid of making mistakes or correcting himself where needed. This unfeigned attention was rather flattering.
“Cold sweat, stomach cramps, vomiting, slow pulse, drowsiness – all these symptoms indicate intoxication and typically appear immediately after poisoning. There is little time after that to remove the toxin from the body. Without medical intervention, an adult will succumb to the lethal dosage within three to four hours.”
“Wow…” there was a grim realization in his voice. “Captain, can I ask you a favor?”
“Depends. Please, elaborate.”
“Can you warn me about any plant like this one while we are here? I really don’t feel like ending up in the ER today. That'd definitely ruin the day.” Chris tried to laugh it off, but he was evidently uneasy.
Trust. Good.
“It is in my best interests to ensure your well-being, Chris. There is no need to worry,” Wesker noted calmly. He was satisfied to see his subordinate immediately relax and smile.
Although the greenhouse was impressive and full of light, space and greenery, Chris was actually relieved to leave it behind. His imagination was a little too vivid today – likely a side effect of the recent work stress – and he just wanted to breathe some fresh air without even a hint of almond. He exhaled slowly, looking around, and finally spotted the grand dome of the bio-dome peeking from behind the trees to the south. The sun was already dipping toward the horizon, and its rays bathed the structure in bright gold, reflecting off its hive-like glass panes.
As it turned out, they were lucky to have come on Friday – the garden had extended hours, and the bio-dome didn't close its doors until 8 P.M. It afforded them plenty of time to explore its interior as well as the rest of the grounds.
Chris was about to step inside when he noticed Wesker casually taking off his jacket, revealing a dark polo shirt underneath. The sight caught him completely off guard, reducing his thoughts to a quiet hum as he simply stared at his Captain. It wasn’t even that hot today, after all.
“I suggest you do the same, Chris,” Wesker stated in a matter-of-fact tone. When Chris just stood there, looking completely blank, he elaborated: “Take off your clothes, I mean. You will thank me later.”
He didn’t comment on the deep blush creeping up his pointman's cheeks, just smirked and headed forward. The double glass doors of the bio-dome showed him the reflection of Redfield finally catching on and taking off his leather bomber.
~~~
In all his days Chris had never felt like there could be so much life around him. It was breathing, living and suffocating green expanse. The air around him was so humid like he was inhaling water instead and so hot he immediately felt his clothes sticking to his skin.
Trying to steady his breathing, Chris simply walked, following Wesker step by step. Soon, the loud roar of falling water joined in. There was a small cascade just beside the wooden pathway, and he could hear another one somewhere further inside the dome.
“Wow…” He was impressed, to say the least.
“I take it you didn’t bother with the details, Christopher.” Wesker’s voice was so smug – clearly having a laugh at his expense – that Chris just couldn’t stay quiet. He turned toward the man, intending to-
Wesker was staring at him with slightly narrowed eyes, genuine amusement written on his features. His eyes were impossibly light in the dying evening glow.
Chris’s brain stalled right then and there.
“You need to breathe, Chris. Deep, slow breaths. It is indeed quite hot in here; your body needs time to adjust.”
His eyes started to sting because he just didn’t dare to blink, for fear that it might vanish – this strange, surreal image of his Captain with his pale eyes, an amused smile on his lips, and tiny droplets of sweat beading his brow and temple in the heavy, humid heat.
“It seems you need a moment to recuperate,” Wesker noted thoughtfully. His insistent hand rested upon Chris’s shoulder, guiding him to the nearest bench.
Taking a seat, Chris cleared his throat and finally managed: “Captain… your sunglasses…”
“Oh, those? It’s not very practical to wear them in such a humid environment. Luckily the sun is almost down; otherwise, it would be quite uncomfortable.”
Seeing the confusion on his subordinate’s face, Wesker offered, “My eyes are exceptionally sensitive to light. Thus, it’s imperative for me to wear protective lenses virtually at all times.”
Wesker was almost surprised to see Chris’s face clouding with concern. The young man stared at him for a second with… actual worry? – and blurted out: “Then we must leave here as soon as possible, Sir.”
“There is no need to rush, Chris.”
“But if it’s painful for you…”
“I assure you, a mild discomfort is a fair price for the opportunity to appreciate scenery like this.”
Something clicked for Chris in that moment. All of it – this place, with its noises and scents, with the sky above slowly deepening into different shades of dark blue – it all suddenly pushed and pulled at him, concentrating into a single point in space and time. He looked at Wesker and couldn’t get enough of the things he didn’t notice about him until now, every tiny detail adding to the puzzle the man was.
The moment flashed through his mind in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a strange fluttering in his chest that he couldn’t name.
“Then how about we make it worth the trouble, sir?” Chris found himself saying. He stood up from the bench and flashed a grin. “I’d really like to know what we’re surrounded by right now,” he added with a note of spirited curiosity.
Wesker’s lips curled into a little smile that Chris had come to recognize as approval. He fell into step beside his Captain and clung to his every word, the heat and humidity of the bio-dome forgotten as something distant and irrelevant.
The sudden hint of devotion, clearly written on Redfield’s face, made him smile. It was almost poetic to see the undivided attention of this young man blossoming here of all places, surrounded by the flora whose remote relative had led him along the path to greatness. He saw it as a definitive sign of his future triumph.
He was genuinely curious to discover the true extent of his influence over Chris; it was a challenge of a sort. Would he be able to align the young man more with his interests? Or even sway him to his cause, maybe?
The possibilities were far off but already he felt a sharp flicker of a predatory thrill.