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Night fell quietly over the safehouse surrounded by trees. Chris Redfield had been soundly asleep for the past four hours, aided by the pain medication Tundra had administered after the Hound Wolf Squad had settled him down post-mission. He hadn’t so much twitched when she’d switched the empty IV for a full one three hours into the care schedule. Making her way back downstairs, she washed her hands and disposed of the empty IV bag carefully in the biohazard bin the safehouse was stocked with. Looked at her fellow members sitting around the kitchen table, she was struck at the deepness of thought that seemed to be going on.
“What’s up?” Lobo looked over first, as she pulled out a chair to join them.
“We have to go back to work tomorrow, regular shifts. Just got a message from the Director that we aren’t back with Alpha officially at work until next week, and there will be no leaves of absence granted to assist with his care. It sounds like they aren’t going to give him much time before he’s expected on base again. Even with his health so compromised.”
“Kennedy is taking a few days off to stick close, so there will be coverage while we’re working unless he’s called into a mission. But Claire can only stay four more days at the most. So we’re going to have to think of something or hope the Captain is feeling strong enough to handle the day shift solo.” Piers spoke softly. Everyone was uncomfortable with that idea.
“Is there no one else close to him beyond Ms. Redfield and Kennedy?” Tundra asked softly.
“Valentine and Oliveira, but they work the same hours as the Captain, so we cannot ask them.” Night Howl grimaced.
“Well… I don’t know if West is in town or not, after that DSO trouble a few weeks ago. Not sure if he’s the nurturing type either.” Canine added.
“What about his lady friend?” Umber questioned, “If we could contact her, I wonder if they’re close enough for her to watch over him a bit.”
“Not sure how to contact her, we don’t even have her name. Just… curly brunette that likes ice cream and Alpha.” Piers quipped, getting a few snickers.
Umber chuckled quietly before adding, “Maybe Kennedy knows her name? In any case, tonight and tomorrow are looked after. Who is staying with Tundra here tonight for the bag changes and shift relief so Kennedy can get some sleep?”
Canine raised his hand, “I’ll stay. I function the best on the least sleep here, so I’ll take over. I’m sure Kennedy or Ms. Redfield will spell me when I need a break before work tomorrow.”
“Alright, with that decided, those of us that aren’t staying the night should head out. It’s quite a commute back.” Umber spoke softly, standing up and making for the washroom. “We’ll leave Tundra and Canine her car, the rest comes back with us? Sound like a plan?”
“Agreed.” The rest of the team chorused.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning, the sunrise spilling in through the east-facing bedroom window woke Chris out of the vaguely drug-induced haze. While there was no pain in his body courtesy of the injection Tundra had given him roughly three hours earlier, his stomach felt uncomfortable at best. Looking around the room for the first time with any kind of clarity, he spotted Canine flopped and quietly snoring in the armchair in the corner that faced both the bed and the bedroom door. A ghost of a smile tugged his lips upward when the man snapped to attention, wide awake and sidearm drawn when Tundra padded in through the bedroom door with another IV bag in hand.
“Just me Charlie, but breakfast will be ready soon.” She whispered, going over to the bed to make another swap. She was slightly startled to see the storm-blue eyes of her Captain open and looking at her. “Oh! Good morning Sir.”
“He awake?” Canine yawned and stretched a little after holstering his weapon.
“Mornin’.” Came the deep, scratchy reply from Redfield. He swallowed drily, mouth feeling like it was full of cotton batting.
“Here, this should help.” Tundra held out a tumbler of water, making certain he could hold the glass before letting go. “Slow sips, don’t want to blow chunks first thing in the morning. Not that you’ve got anything to upchuck anyway.”
Chris huffed a silent laugh through his nose and did as instructed, the thick feeling in his mouth washing away with the cool water. Finishing it slowly, he set it down carefully on the bedside table. He watched as Tundra replaced his IV, quickly flushing the line before hooking it up again.
“There, that’s good for another three hours. You’re scheduled to finish the bags by about 1:30, as long as they get changed out appropriately. Agent Kennedy said he’s had training to do this, so he will take over while I'm away. Dr. Chambers also texted a few minutes ago to check on your status. Said as long as you hadn’t vomited or stayed unconscious without the assistance of meds, you could try some soft yogurt and maybe scrambled eggs. How does that sound, Sir?”
“Great, thank you.”
When Chris made to get up to go to the meal, attempting to swing one leg over the side of the bed he was startled into stillness by Tundra’s hands on his bare chest and her alarmed squeak. Blinking, he looked to her, as her hands leapt off his skin like they’d caught fire.
“N-no! Stay in bed. Doctor’s orders, Sir. I’ll bring breakfast up in a few minutes, just rest. If you tolerate it well, Kennedy said something about helping you move around later. No working out, just light movement.”
He almost laughed at her stern-yet-embarrassed face, wisely keeping silent and nodding his acquiescence. Canine watched the exchange and excused himself to the kitchen, trying not to laugh his ass off. Tundra seemed to be fleeing the room behind her, a little bit red-faced as she zoomed down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Leon turned from the stove, making a hearty breakfast for all to eat, minus Redfield. His brows raised as he saw a chuckling Canine and now very red Tundra.
“What happened?”
“Captain tried to get out of bed and she stopped him by feeling up his pecs.”
“I. Did. Not.!” She hissed, “I just… I can’t let him get up yet. That’s not right.”
“He was walking around yesterday and came off a three-week mission. I think the sleep did some good work last night. I’m wagering the first solid night he’s had since before he left, and the drip seems to perking him up.” Canine observed as he grabbed a cup of coffee.
“And he looked like a walking corpse that could barely get seated in the car yesterday. I’m not letting him up yet. Granted, he looks a little more energized and alert, but it’s way too soon. Even with the weight loss if he falls and gets injured, I can’t scoop him up as easily as the rest of you.”
Leon began to plate breakfast for Chris as he listened to the discussion, sipping coffee when he had the chance.
“I meant to ask last night, but what’s in those bags you’re giving him? It’s not just saline, that’s for sure.”
“The most basic answer is calories. Nutrition with a very high concentration of the fats, carbs, and proteins he needs right now. I don’t know what exactly the formula is, but Dr. Chambers custom mixed those infusions to meet his biological criteria. She said his metabolism has been… rambunctious and insatiable when I asked about them yesterday. I’m inclined to agree, as one of those bags normally is administered over an eight-hour period. He’s draining them in three.” Sipping her coffee, “I’ve never seen anything like that, a patient’s body that is literally pulling the liquid out of the IV.”
“Well, he’s hungry. Can you blame him?” Leon chuckled. He offered the plate of scrambled and a bowl of yogurt to Tundra, “Want to go see if he can keep this down, or watch the bacon so it doesn’t burn while I’m up there?”
“I’ll go.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Breakfast went well, Chris had managed to clean the plate and bowl without any ill effects. Unless an embarrassingly loud belly growl counted. Rubbing at the scruff of the unkempt beard along his jaw, he tried to settle down the noise coming from his middle with a hand over it to muffle the sounds. Leon still heard it as he walked in the door after seeing the remaining Wolves off to work.
“Think you can take a smoothie? I could hear your stomach in the hallway.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, please? It’s… sorry. Can’t stop the racket...”
“Don’t apologize. Becca said to feed you easy foods for now, but I think you’re probably going to graduate to normal stuff by supper time if your gut has anything to say about it.” Ignoring the blush lighting up Redfield’s cheeks, he went to make the promised smoothie before returning. “Don’t drink it too fast. If you’re up for it in a bit, might be nice to stretch those legs I’d bet. You’ve been horizontal for twelve hours; that’s a new record for you.”
Chris snorted, “I would have come downstairs earlier but I wasn’t allowed.”
“I heard about that. Pup got a little handsy, huh?”
“And then realized what she was doing and jumped like I scalded her. I might need to relax a little more in the training sessions. All of them look terrified to be within arm’s length of me on a good day. Pretty sure Piers only grabbed my waist yesterday because I was going to faceplant if somebody didn’t keep me upright when the adrenaline finally wore off. I don’t even physically handle them in training, so I don’t understand what’s the problem.”
“That might be the solution right there.” Leon hummed.
“Hmm?” Mouth full of smoothie.
“You don’t initiate touch with them. Pups and kids alike need to be touched to help development and improve their motor skills, as well as socialization. Or in this case, toss your pups around the floor mats and wrestle with them so they know it’s okay to actually get in your space. Might help them relax if they realize that your hands aren’t reserved for boulders and zombies alone. They already know your ass is the Destroyer of Chairs, your fists are rumored to have done much worse than demolish innocent office furniture.”
Chris almost choked on the smoothie, giving Leon a withering glare as Claire joined them with a cup of coffee.
“Leave my ass out of this.”
“Hard to, as your pants put up missing posters looking for it last night.” He grinned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Wolves were on edge all day, chewing through their assignments with an efficiency and speed that had Jill Valentine a little worried and just a tad awestruck. Not that the work wasn’t top quality without even a spelling or grammar error… but their focus was like nothing she had ever seen. They were wrapping up the first of the three projects they’d been assigned under her command, now making inroads on finalizing the second simultaneously.
“They work harder than Wesker drove us in S.T.A.R.S.” She mentioned to Carlos over lunch.
“They miss their Alpha. Can’t have a wolf pack without a strong alpha, or so all the romance novels say.” He chuckled.
“You’re the expert in that field, handsome. Never would have pegged you for sappy werewolf romance novels as a guilty pleasure, Oliveira.”
“There’s no guilt involved, Supercop.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Night came once again, this time with Piers and Umber Eyes taking the night shift to ensure their Captain was watched over. While the pain seemed to be slightly less than the previous day, it was clear that Redfield’s entire body was still aching. Changing his dressings hadn’t been fun, but Piers was pleased to see that there were no signs of infection. He’d dozed off in the armchair in the bedroom, waking when his bladder declared a state of emergency around one in the morning. Creeping out as quietly as he could, he took care of business before deciding to do a perimeter check. About ten minutes later, he was satisfied that the safehouse was still secure, and there were no signs of unwanted visitors that they could detect. Heading back upstairs to finish his night shift, something felt out of place as he approached the bedroom door.
The curtains in the room were slightly shifted, and the room smelled of fresher air than when he’d awoken minutes before. The Captain was still lying in bed, rolled up onto his right side instead of on his back as earlier.
He was not alone.
Drawing his side arm immediately and flicking off the safety in one smooth motion, he leveled it at the head of the woman that had somehow infiltrated the safehouse, gotten into their Captain’s bedroom, and was halfway reclined on the bed with Redfield’s head cushioned comfortably on her chest.
“Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?” He hissed, not wanting to wake Chris from what looked like genuine comfort.
A dark brow arched slightly as she nodded her head in the direction of the window, moonlight showing him the iciest of blue eyes.
“Trellis, my car is parked about half a click away from the end of the drive. CCTV down there can verify I’m truthful.” A soft Irish accent lilted through the room. Sneakers were kicked off just under the frame and jacket across the foot of the bed.
He eyed her closely, noting the riot of curly dark hair cascading all over the headboard and pillow she was seated against. His eyes watched as her hand cradled the jaw of the slumbering man resting halfway on top of her, fingers softly stroking the beard and scruffy cheek. Then it hit him… He lowered his gun, holstering it.
“You’re his lady friend.” Whispered softly.
“I have a name, Lieutenant Nivans.” She chuckled very softly, fingers still soothing the man in her arms. Piers balked at his name. “Shhh, don’t wake him.”
“How do you know my name?”
“China.”
“You were in Lanshiang? Are you related to West?”
“Hmph. You remember West but nay ken me? That’s not very gentlemanly. You could say that West and I are kin of sorts.” She looked down as Redfield stirred a little in her arms, “More questions another time, Little Pup. Your Alpha will wake if we talk further.”
“Name, at least?”
“You may call me L.”
Nodding, he settled down into the armchair until it was time for Umber Eyes to relieve him an hour later. He shot a warning message to Umber that Chris had a guest over, and not to startle too hard if she walked through the house.
Hours later at dawn, Piers slowly stretched from his spot in the second spare bedroom. Throwing his legs off the side of the bed, he conducted his morning business before heading to the kitchen. A rich aroma greeted him there, and he was a bit boggled at the site of an enormous crock pot keeping something warm on the kitchen counter, along with a pair of wrapped loaves of hearty homemade bread and a note.
Good Morning Pups, Kennedy, and Reds! There’s more than enough beef stew here to fill your lunch boxes as well as nourish Big Boy for a few meals. Help yourselves, and I’ll see you again soon. Fatten him up for me, I don’t like the Jack Skellington impression! - L”
“When did she do this?” Piers felt both lost and impressed. Turning his head, he saw a barely awake Leon staggering out of the first spare bedroom at the back of the house.
“What’s that smell?” Blinking, he read over the note that was still in Piers’ hand. “Oh, L dropped in. Wish she’d stayed for breakfast. Woman can cook like it’s nobody’s business. Coffee. Coffee before some of what she made.” He beelined for the coffee pot like rent was due and it owed him six months of payments.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rest of the week and subsequent weekend passed in much the same fashion, with the only change being location. Chris was finally cleared by Rebecca as safe enough to transport to his own home, and he was pleased to be heading back to familiar territory. His razor was there, and he sorely missed his own bed. He was also cleared to not be under chronic watch, as the Squad, Claire, and Kennedy had managed to put two pounds on him in just five days when it was clear he wasn’t going to develop refeeding syndrome. Not that he was complaining, he’d always enjoyed food and a large quantity when it was available. His clothing felt odd, even his boxers kept sliding down his hips and if he’d hadn’t been wearing old drawstring pajama bottoms, he would have flashed everyone any time he stood to walk and stretch a little.
Once again riding in the passenger seat of his dark green Jeep, he allowed Night Howl and Lobo to drive him home. He startled a little as a loud ringtone sounded from the breast pocket of his jacket, having forgotten he’d settled his phone in there before they left the safehouse.
”You know what to do with that big fat butt! Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle! Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle!”
“What butt, West? And I thought I told you to quit fucking with my phone.”
“Tch. Did it make you smile?”
“….” His lips did twitch after the initial shock wore off.
“I win this round! Take the ringtone as encouragement, Big Boy. Kennedy sent me a couple of pictures, and I saw a missing poster on the bulletin board downtown looking for your arse. Said to call this number when located.”
“Check around the back of me in a few months. I’m sure it will come home. Sometimes you have to let these things roam free for a bit before they get anxious to return.”
“Huh. Wandering arses get homesick. Good to know.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Redfield had to be cleared by Rebecca with a clear recovery program established before he was allowed to work full days once more. Monday morning found him on the commute to BSAA headquarters, finally driving himself around once more. Before checking on his team, he met with Rebecca in her office at 8:30 to do some quick bloodwork, weigh in, and get measured.
“Well, you did grow like back in 2005. You’re 6’3” officially, but that weight is not one that suits you. 198lbs, I haven’t seen borderline-scrawny Chris since ’98.” She teased, motioning for him to step off the scale and get dressed once more after drawing blood and checking his muscle tone.
“Can’t help it Becca. I didn’t decide to ramp up my metabolism to warp speed and grow for my good health in the middle of an op.” He chuckled softly.
“About that… I still want to do the infusions until we’re sure your bloodwork is balanced again. The growth markers have decreased to about half of what they were before you were shipped off, but I’m still not sure you’re in the clear yet. I checked your scans and had a neurologist friend review them as well. No tumors anywhere in you, no weird gland enlargement or activity found either. The markers could be because your body is grabbing every calorie it can to convert to grow muscle tissue, or it could indicate you’re going to shoot up once more. Only time is going to tell.” She took a breath and looked him square in the eye, “I tested Claire for the same things I have you. She has zero growth indicators, and when looking deeper, I found that your condition is genetic…”
“We didn’t share a father. My father died before I could really remember him, Mom remarried and had Claire when I was six. We look a lot like our mother.”
She deflated a little, “I was hoping to ask him some questions to see if I can help you better.”
“It’s okay, Becca. We can manage this. What’s the plan for now?” He rubbed his face and took a seat in the chair opposite her.
“We’ll do the infusions twice a week like already scheduled. You won’t have to come here, I’ll bring an IV pole up to your office so you don’t have to miss out on the work time you do get. Half days only, at least for the next two weeks. For weight gain, I’d like to see one or two pounds per week as we go. Keep the physical activity light, with no weights and we’ll revisit you going to the gym after the initial two weeks are over. Eat generous portions at mealtimes, snacks between. The goal is calories and a lot of them.”
“Eating isn’t a problem. I can’t walk around for five minutes without somebody thrusting a plate at me like it’s their life’s mission.” He snickered.
“Well, it kinda is. You hug better when you’re built like a tank, not this. I don’t like feeling your spine or ribs. Not enough padding, big guy.” She stood, patting his shoulder softly as she shooed him up to go. “Now, off with you to your Wolves. I’m sure they are anxious to see you after little contact on the weekend.”
“Alright. Thanks again Becca, for everything. I owe you.”
“Just beef up again and we’ll call it even. If my car goes off the road again before you’re back to normal, I’m screwed.”
His laughter rang through the whole Medical Bay as he left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back in the bullpen, the Wolves found themselves once again waiting for the elevator to ding. At precisely nine a.m. they heard the anticipated sound, as well as softer footsteps of boots coming down the hallway. The moment Redfield appeared, they stood gave him a sharp salute and greeting.
“Welcome back Alpha!”
“Thank you, it’s good to be back. At ease, Squad. Half days for now, but after two weeks that will be revisited. Don’t be surprised if Dr. Chambers visits frequently.” Taking a minute to collect his thoughts, he leaned against the counter of the kitchenette to put a little distance between himself and the team. “I wanted to thank you all… for what you have done for me. If it was not for your rapid response when I collapsed, I might not have made it much further. The dedication and teamwork you have displayed when working for me, as well as the projects under Valentine and Oliveira is both impressive and a great honor to witness. I am proud to be your Captain.”
He watched as the weight of his words sunk in, feeling the climate of the room changing quickly.
“The precision and execution of your orders from Jill, Carlos, and Rebecca during my subsequent post-op debrief and housing was on par with the best I have ever served with. I cannot thank you all enough for what you have done. Instead, I will do my best to be the Alpha that you deserve.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time Thursday had rolled around, it was time for another infusion. Redfield had settled into a routine of work once more; the only downside was the crate in his office being harder than usual on his frame. Less muscle and precious little fat to make a cushion on the wood gave his hips, thighs, and back an ache that was both persistent and aggressive. Sitting on his jacket helped a little, but he found himself enjoying paperwork even less than usual. Hearing a soft knock on the frame of his office door, he was about to tell the person to enter when a horrified screech hit him faster than his lips could move.
“WHAT THE FUCK?! WHERE IS YOUR CHAIR?! THAT’S NOT EVEN A DESK, CHRIS! THAT’S A SIDEWAYS BOOKSHELF WITH TWO FILING CABINETS ZIP-TIED TO IT.” She waved the portable IV pole around the entryway of the office, shaking it like it was an old polaroid.
“Good morning Becca. I told you my office wasn’t glamorous.”
“Does the Director know?! Get off that crate right now! Oh my God, your back. How can you even walk? No wonder you’re stiff at lunchtime. How long have you had that crate as a chair?”
“He’s aware.” Standing, he stretched slowly before pointing at the floorspace behind the crate. “This a better spot for the IV?” He almost winced at the aggravated sound that dragged out of the petite woman.
“Christopher Redfield, have you talked with HR? This is insane.”
“Hasn’t been high on my priority list, no.”
“I’ll be back in an hour to stab you with a needle. You’ll have a proper chair that will be durable enough before the end of the day, AND a proper desk.” Thrusting both pole and supplies into his hands, she stormed out of the bullpen, muttering under her breath the whole time.
The Wolves had been frozen in their seats during the entire conversation before chat lit up.
Umber Eyes: Remind me not to piss her off.
Canine: I didn’t know she cusses.
Fenrir: …she scolded him. Used his full name.
Tundra: She used the Mom Voice.
Lobo: But will she use it on the Director?
Night Howl: It would probably work… She’s the top researcher and doctor in the entire BSAA. Pretty sure he’s now public enemy number one in her books.
Umber Eyes: Any takers on that desk and new chair showing up before lunch?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two weeks later, and Chris had been approved to start small workouts again. It was a relief to be doing something other than resting, eating, and paperwork. He didn’t have to cook much, as there seemed to be a steady stream of homecooked meals that were dropped off on his doorstep every few days. He’d given up tracking who was dropping of what and when, just washing the tupperware when empty and bringing it to work to be collected.
Unbeknownst to him, there was a competition for who could put the most poundage on his frame. Each of the Wolves, plus Kennedy, Valentine, and Oliveira were competing by rotating the responsibility each week for meal prep. Rebecca was the judge, as she had Chris weighing in weekly, doing measurements to track the recovery process. So far Oliveira was winning with of 2.5lbs in a week.
Two months of gradual recovery later, Chris was looking much more like himself. Being cleared to hit the gym as hard as he wanted to, he resumed his old routine to get back to his usual level of fitness.
Another two months later, Piers had officially won the contest, when at the final weigh-in Redfield had put on a full three pounds that week.
“Okay, final stats: still 6’3”, and 245lbs. You passed all the tests to stop infusions and met all objectives for re-certifying you as an active operative. I’m clearing you officially for field work and as many hugs as you can tolerate, Big Guy. Now gimme a proper Redfield hug!”
Chris laughed softly, practically engulfing Rebecca in his arms as hers wrapped around his middle.