Disclaimer: Resident Evil and Resident Evil characters are the property of Capcom. This is nonprofit fan fiction.

A forever unfinished piece, born out of selfish desire to have Chris Redfield and Jack Krauser meet.

Three's Company

by Salysha

They walked right into a trap.

In their defense, it was dark, and they had been solitary for hours. The slow scan of their path in the mountainous, uninhabited countryside of one of the most populated European countries had made their progress uneventful and blasé. The uneven terrain, which seemed to have played a ready role in the relatively scarce population of the area, had gradually switched to an overarching canopy, mostly coniferous trees with thick coverage, even the old decay of primeval forests. The Mediterranean influence didn't reach here.

The day had turned to dusk, which slowly yielded to night.

Their undoing was a shack that stood in the way. On closer inspection, the shack came out to be an abandoned country house that, as such, merited checking. On their way of securing the route for the tactics team later to come, they made work to leave no stone unturned.

Leon cracked the door open and scanned the surroundings. Window panes lining the top of the first room gave in a pale gleam of moon. The black and blue hues revealed pieces of rundown wooden furniture. Nothing unearthly announced itself while Leon inspected the dark corners and ventured through the floor until he found a staircase to the basement. Krauser followed in his step.

At the slightest rasp, Krauser and Leon spun around with their arms drawn.

"Hold it."

Darkness covered most of the room, but the faint light from the basement windows revealed the gleaming nuzzle of a gun and the shadowy outline of a man.

American.

Krauser spoke. "It's two of us and one of you, comrade. Put down your weapon. You can't take us both down."

Dark laugh. "I wouldn't count on that."

The man was no stranger to armed combat. He picked his target unfailingly and dangerously. The gun pointed at Leon, point-blank.

"Identify yourself."

"Leon Kennedy, United States Federal Government."

"Leon?" At hearing the name, the man stepped forward. Dark-haired. Tall. Built like Krauser. He gazed at Leon intently. "Fill in a name. Redfield."

"Claire." As Leon stared, slowly, realization dawned. "Chris."

"That's right." Chris stared at Krauser, and the threat was off Leon. He pointed the gun at Krauser. "Affiliation?"

Krauser was reluctant. Finally, he admitted, "US SOCOM."

Puzzlement and doubt crossed Chris' face. He stole a quick glance at Leon, hesitating. "It's true."

Chris released his guide hand and lowered the sight, arms open. He emerged from the shadows. Krauser's eyes were on the weapon, but Leon was looking elsewhere. Chris and Krauser were measuring each other.

"Chris Redfield."

"Jack Krauser."

Chris directed his words at Leon. "I haven't done a sweep of the place; it might not be safe. I just got here right before you did. The outsides should be secure, though. I wandered around long enough before getting in."

Leon glanced at Krauser. "We'll have a look around."

Between the three of them, they went on to secure the area. Chris brought up the rear, while Krauser and Leon went over the house room by room, guns drawn. They found only empty rooms, one after another, and a basement floor accessible by an off-place set of winding stairs, but there were no more surprises: only dust and abandoned burlap sacks. They went through the entire dilapidated house and ended back in the basement.

"Clear."

The confrontation had drained Chris. He put his gun away tiredly and faltered on his feet. Leon looked down, saw the painful clutch on his waist, just below the protection of the tac vest. Now that his navigation light pointed directly at Chris, he could see the dark red staining his shirt and fingers.

"Maybe someone should take a look at that?"

"I—" Chris deflated, then said hesitantly, "If you could, yeah, I'd appreciate that. I can't really twist myself in that angle to take a look myself." Chris slid down and slumped on the floor. He ended in a half-sitting position, slumping awkwardly against a lumpy burlap sack pile.

Leon glanced at Krauser. "I think you better do it. You know more about these things than I do."

"Yeah, sure, sure." Krauser said grudgingly, but he dropped down regardless. He cringed at Chris regretfully. "I got to warn you, though, I'm no medic. Can you lift your shirt up?"

Chris reached to his left side and started pulling at his shirt. He ended with a bottled-up wince.

Krauser jumped in. "Wait, wait. It's stuck." He pulled a drinking bottle off his belt. "We have any more of this stuff, Leon?" he called over his shoulder.

Chris cut in. "There's a creek in the area. Small beck, cold, but the water's clear. It should be fine for drinking. I drank from it an hour ago."

"That's good news," Krauser acknowledged. "I thought I heard a ripple before we got in."

He soaked up Chris' shirt and dabbed the stains. The shirt had dried up firmly, and it took effort before the shirt pried off. Krauser soaked the stuck area liberally with water that trickled over the wooden floor. He grimaced as more came to view. A chunk of flesh had been torn off, leaving a flap of skin hanging loose. As he dabbled at the avulsion to remove dust and extraneous particles, more blood trickled out. It still hadn't stopped bleeding.

"This doesn't look so good, comrade. You need stitches."

"Didn't bring my sewing kit," Chris said through his teeth, but Krauser looked visibly troubled. He couldn't help an involuntary jolt of appreciation when Chris brought his fingers to his side and pressed at the cuts himself. Only the minute shaking of his fingers, coated with dried-up blood, gave away how excruciating the tear had to be. It was in the sensitive part of the flank.

Krauser was trying to think how to proceed, when Leon cut in. Bless the guy.

"Chris, I got something to go over with Krauser. Will you be okay by yourself for a couple of minutes?"

Considering Chris had been okay well before they got in, it sounded like a stretch, but Chris' condition had definitely deteriorated. His eyes didn't focus that sharply anymore, and his forehead gleamed of sweat.

"Sure."

Leon didn't miss the painful wince as he and Krauser left to talk outside.

They put in a healthy distance between them and the house.

"What do you think?" Krauser asked as soon as they stopped.

"I think we should help."

"I was afraid you'd say that," he said without heat.

"What about you?" Leon said.

"I'm on board with whatever you wanna do." Krauser had noticed, over the course of their partnership, that Leon's judgment usually proved worth tagging along with.

"I had something in mind, but I wanted to run it by you first." Leon dug into his vest and produced a First Aid Spray. "It's the only one we have, and you have as much say in this as I do."

Krauser sighed. He really didn't want to be the good guy. "Yeah. Yeah," he said, hating himself. "He can have it."

Leon grinned at him.

"Don't start painting me out to be a saint now," Krauser huffed as he snagged the bottle and stuffed it in his vest. Leon was still giving him that grin, and Krauser promptly changed subjects. "Look, I got a bunch of follow-ups, but it can wait. If you'll look for water and fill the bottles, I'll go see to our friend."

"That's good; you're already making friends," Leon called out.

Krauser was about to retort, but Leon was already too far. He turned back with a snort.

When he got back, Chris hadn't moved. He had slid down further, and the red clutch of his flank was more pronounced. When Krauser approached, Chris slogged up, but dropped back when he made out who it was.

"It's just me," Krauser called out, just in case. Chris nodded and let his hand drop down with a clank.

Krauser glanced at his side: while he'd been gone, Chris Redfield had pulled out a man-size combat knife that rested at his side. He recognized the make but had never seen anyone actually use it: MercWorx Goliath. It was a veritable machete: the biggest and shiniest on the market.

Chris noticed his stare and seemed kind of embarrassed. "Sorry, I just—"

"Of course," Krauser cut him off instantly. "It's nothing."

He knelt back on the floor as Chris tried to push himself up. Chris wasn't able to manage getting upright, though, and he dropped back on against the burlap sacks with a heavy huff. "Jesus."

"Yeah, just stay down." Krauser hesitated. "Ready to give it another try?"

Chris nodded jerkily. He looked visibly worse for wear as Krauser carefully pealed his shirt back up and showed him the first-aid can. "I'm working with nothing here, but I got this. I'm going to clean this up the best I can and then use the spray on it."

When he didn't get objections, he pulled out rags from his pockets. He also had a couple of sterile patches he set aside for later use. Leon showed up later with fresh water and produced tapes from the confines of his personal stock. As Krauser cleaned the torn flesh meticulously and tried to prevent the cuts from getting worse, he nodded to Chris' side on the floor.

"That's a nice knife. I always wanted one."

"MercWorx man yourself?"

Krauser snorted a laugh. "Sniper."

"That's quality make, too," Chris offered. "Good balance, wears hard."

Krauser quirked a lopsided grin. He used the spray, to the almost instant relief of his patient, and proceeded to cover the wound with sterile patches, which he taped into place.

While Krauser had been working, Leon had been keeping in the background, but he stepped up now.

"What happened?"

"A spear," Chris said dryly.

"Excuse me?" That was Krauser.

Chris straightened his back and winced. He settled back down when Krauser still wasn't done with the taping.

"I was staking out Umbrella Headquarters in Paris when I was—for the lack of a better word—abducted." A dry, not amused curve of Chris' lip told how he felt about it. "Got taken for a ride. Long transport, heavy guard, but they got careless in the end. When I saw where helicopter was about to land, I made a break for it. Could've picked my landing place better."

"You jumped out of a helicopter?!"

"We were flying low," Chris said dismissively, not proud. "They were going to this Gothic castle-type thing, and that would've meant confined grounds, tighter security. I was just on the outskirts, and it was the last minute to get out. One guard grabbed hold and fell with me. You know those structures that have spikes or spears sticking out, like daggers? Wrought iron? I scraped one. He wasn't so lucky; hit one head-on."

Chris stared at the floor. Instinctively, Leon and Krauser dropped their eyes and stayed silent.

"I got most of my gear back," Chris said eventually. "Wasn't easy to get out, but would've been worse to stay."

"Did you say a castle?" Leon said.

"Yeah. There's a chateau about a mile north, north-east."

Leon and Krauser passed looks. Intelligence had said nothing about a dwelling. A shack they could have passed up, but not something sizeable.

"Nothing we can do about it now," Krauser said reluctantly.

"Agreed. Might have to change our plans, though. I'll be outside."

Leon left, and Krauser stayed behind to put together the supplies he'd used. Chris' color had already improved; he looked visibly relieved. "Thanks, Jack."

Krauser halted. His surprise didn't last too long; he gave a small smile. "Any time, comrade."

He caught up with Leon outside. The night had fallen; the moon was up, but outside their own lamps, they were left to pale shadows.

"I can't reach HQ," Leon said immediately as he stepped out. "You try."

Krauser pulled out his radio. He met only dead air. "I don't like this."

Leon was eyeing around sharply. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but he was on his guard. "Me, neither."

"What do you think of this chateau?"

"It's not supposed to be there. Either the intel we got was wrong, or something's up."

They looked each other in the eye. Neither was voting for the former.

Krauser changed subjects. "So, who's this guy?"

Leon sobered. He spoke thoughtfully, considering his words.

"I've actually never met him, but I know who he is. His sister, Claire, was in Raccoon City with me. She was one tough girl; spoke a lot about him, too. Ex-pilot, police tactics force in Raccoon before... you know." That was Krauser's cue not to pry.

"Think he's on the level?"

That was a loaded question. Leon considered it carefully.

"I think if Chris Redfield says there's a chateau nearby, we start looking for one," he said and looked Krauser in the eye.

Krauser nodded to himself. "Good enough for me."

"I guess this means we won't be going home for the night."

"We set camp. Three make better guards than two if he wants to stay."

Leon confirmed the course of action. They did one more sweep of the surroundings and found nothing extraordinary.

Inside, Chris had climbed the stairs and gotten the kitchen plumbing to work. He was washing the gore off. The running water looked rusty and not too healthy, but it served its purpose. Chris, by contrast, was looking better by miles. The First Aid Sprays were pocket-sized miracles, and Leon's only regret was not loading up with more before setting out on reconnaissance.

"We weren't supposed to stay overnight, but looks like we have to. This place is as good as any. What about you?"

"I'm not even sure where I'm supposed to be, to tell you the truth." Leon showed his GPS, and Chris shook his head. "Uh. Definitely not there. I suppose it's night outside and pretty much impossible to navigate?"

"Can't see a thing. Three's company?" Leon suggested.

A glance at Krauser confirmed the invitation.

"I'm in."

They went over the house and looked for a place to set for the night. Eventually, they settled on a room that had a fireplace and dragged in a couple of age-old mattresses. It was dusty and mostly unsanitary, but it was definitely an improvement over sleeping on bare floor. There was slight debate on whether they should set up fire and stay on guard, but the consensus wasn't hard to reach. They had no particular reason to lie low, except for the unspecified gut feeling, so fire for light and warmth was welcome; suspicious military minds were also working on overtime, so one would stay up for guard.

Krauser stared at his watch. "It's about eight hours until daylight. We take 2.5 hours each. Leon, first watch for you? I take second, and Chris gets third."

By the time Leon had built up a fire from the chopped wood he'd found piled outside, Krauser and Chris had already fallen asleep. Krauser cracked an eye open when he wove past them to build the fire, but Chris was dead to the world. Leon took his time to build the fire and adjust the dampers, then went to patrol the house.

Chris woke nearly six hours later, when Krauser nudged his shoulder and called his name. Chris struggled up. Krauser stood by the glow of the fireplace. The air was pleasantly dry and warm. Leon was fast asleep on the other mattress. Chris glanced at his watch. "I thought my turn was supposed to be an hour ago?"

"I was too keyed up to sleep, and Leon wasn't too tired. Take what's left and wake me in one and a half. Nothing's shown so far. C'mon, up."

Krauser switched places with Chris and wouldn't hear any objections. The fireplace was freshly stocked with two new logs, and Chris was left to guard the room.

Nothing happened, and as the dawn was cracking, Chris did his turn to wake the company up. Leon did a turn outside and came back shaking his head; they still had no signal to HQ.

They hadn't intended to stay overnight, but they were equipped to do so. They had more gear than usual survey patrols did. The new day was making it painfully clear it had been long since any one of them had eaten; Chris probably longer than the other two. They had rations, but they hadn't prepared for three and they hadn't prepared to make it last.

Krauser cut off the debate before it had a chance to start. "It's three people in here. We're putting the food in three parts, equally. End of story." He was equally uncompromising when Chris tried to protest, and for once, Leon was glad Krauser's pragmatic mind stood firm where it counted.

"What's your plan, Chris?"

Chris was biting down a ration bar and savoring it fully. "I got to find the nearest city and find some contacts. I got most of my gear, but lost my phone and am kind of misplaced now. I'm supposed to be in Paris now, so..."

"Yeah."

"What's the plan for you guys?"

"Well, we were on this surveillance mission," Leon said after confirming with Krauser that he was fine with sharing. "But if you say there's an actual dwelling nearby, let alone something big, that changes the plan. We're going to investigate. Contact with HQ is shut down anyway, so..."

"You mean you're cut off? As in something is deliberately blocking the transmission?"

Leon's glum look was answer enough.

"I might be able to pay back your help," Chris said suddenly and dug into his pockets. "I don't know if these are of any use to you, but I dropped out in the outer edges of that chateau, and when I was trying to get out, I came across these."

He handed Leon a folded paper and a skeleton key.

"I don't know what the key is used for, but that map got me off the grounds."

Leon unfolded the paper for himself and Krauser to see. Inside was a diagram of pathway design and a floor plan.

Chris wasn't done. "I didn't have a chance to fill you in yesterday, but there's something off about the place. And you should know that they have dogs. There's something wrong with them."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm saying it's like they're—" Chris was looking for words, "—rabid? These dogs were faster, more aggressive than I've seen guard dogs be. Don't let them bite you. I barely made it out alone."

Krauser had been developing a smirk gradually, but the seriousness that had descended the room suddenly hit him. Whatever was out there, one of them took it for a veritable threat. There wasn't an ounce of laughter in his being.

Krauser cleared his throat. "We've weapons, and there're two of us. We'll be on our guard."

"I'm serious. There's something wrong with that place. Looked spooky as hell by night, but the dogs were something else. And if Umbrella's operating in the facility—" Chris spoke directly to Leon, and he was making an impact. Krauser wasn't sure what it was, but it was like Leon was getting something extra out of Chris' warning that he wasn't hearing. He'd have to check with Leon later.

"How did you get out?"

Chris' laugh was crisp. "That's the odd thing. It's like they're territorial. I had two of those after me and they suddenly stopped the chase. I'm not sure what it was, but I took off and didn't stop until I made good distance from the place."

"All right. We'll be on our watch," Leon said.

"Yeah. And hey, thanks again for this. Really feels like new." Chris touched his flank lightly. His posture wasn't slouching that much anymore, and he didn't need to favor one side only.

"Take it easy, champ. And get a doctor to look at it. I just patched you up; I didn't fix you. My medical knowledge isn't the best," Krauser warned.

Chris grinned. "Will do."

They gathered up one more time outside, after confirming that the radio was still down. Chris bade them goodbye and took off in the direction of the nearest habitation center, while Leon and Krauser headed for their initial route.

"Any thoughts?"

"This place doesn't seem too sinister at the moment—" Leon looked around. Sunlight bathed the understory of the forest in few thick rays. Pollen floated through the air. The air was fresh and clear, "—but I wouldn't let my guard down."

"Agreed. Quite a story if there's actually a large dwelling nearby that the intel forgot to mention."

"Not the best thought to entertain," Leon said.

"Let's go find us a chateau, then," Krauser decided. He started out again plowing through the forest, alongside Leon.

"You got everything?"

"Semper Fi," Krauser said with a grin.

Leon rolled his eyes. "Har har, Krauser."

THE END

That's the end. Writing a full story would take that much more work, and my heart's not set for developing an action/adventure right now. So, thanks for checking this out, and that's it. The options are putting out a torso or not publishing at all, and I'd like to think of this as the better option.

Semper Fi (Fidelis) is the motto of the U.S. Marine Corps.

So many thanks to Gypsie (Gypsie Rose) for the proofreading!

Published October 26, 2013.