Ichor And Steel

Chapter Twenty-One; Damnit Rose!

"We don't know where she's gone," explained the guards on repeat. With each round of a clockwise scour, their responses became weaker and smaller, until it was just the sullen shake of the head. The gesture further provoked a deeply inspired anger in Chris, his skin so hot with fluster he'd long laid his coat over sandbags and griped at his hair, baring teeth to the icy wind.

Damnit Rose! Damnit Rose! Damnit!

Where did that child go? Obviously not far but it was definitely—and he feared it—beyond the guard posts. He glared into the frosty wilderness, ashen branches crooked and poised to grab little girls who strayed too far. Despite suggestions from his loyal team, he ventured out with just a little flashlight, ravaging the barren foliage in hopes of finding a scarf or cloth snagged from Rose in a moment of surprise.

Chris had come to the ends of his wit before he found deep footprints, seemingly fresh and a little jaunt seeming. He matched one of her converses to it, carefully tracing the grooves of a sole and, wittingly unprepared, pursued the trail further.

"Chris! Chris!" A young woman from his team cried. He stopped and sneered at her; without verbally saying it, Chris had warned her that this intrusion should be important. She huffed, the cold really taking the breath out of her. "The cell—huff, huff—he needs to—huff—speak with you."

Chris softened. "Thank you."

He took the black rectangle of a phone, and she began her pace slowly, as though she had intentions of letting Chris catch up soon. However, mainly, it was to put a bit of distance between them since those phone calls were special. Chris had never specified why.

"Redfield," he greeted.

"Kennedy; would it kill you to say hello like a normal person?" they asked.

The dark-haired man smiled, lips cracking with a little dryness due to the snow. "I know it would kill you to do a lot of things."

He imagined their eyes rolling and them beginning to move around, conjuring up their words with hints of punishment. "Have you found her?"

"No, but I just found a footprint," he explained, unconsciously rubbing the shoe in his hand. "I fear she might've fled into the village—"

"And why do you say fled?"

Chris frowned at his own word choice but, somehow, he figured it fit. "Winters was—"

"It's Rose, Chris." There was constricted movement from the other end. "We spent five years with her, and you still belittle her to that name?"

Chris rolled his shoulders back at the uncomfortable, unhealed memory. The man on the line had a point, he just called her that without really knowing and when she wasn't around—

—when she was missing—

he felt even guiltier. "Rose was growing impatient; she's a teenager, it doesn't surprise me, Kennedy. It just makes me worried she won't choose the right path out there."

"She can handle herself, Chris," they said which took him back with surprise. "I care for her as much as we both did—"

"Don't."

"—and as cruel as it is, we need to know what she is capable of."

He clutched at the phone, sick to the stomach his friend would suggest such an inhumane experiment. He saw the point, of course, but there lingered a heavy reluctance.

"Chris?"

"It's still Redfield," he firmed, grinding his teeth together. "Would I be able to lurk? We can't let her get killed."

He pictured a nod and his friend spoke in agreeance, "we can't let her get hurt. I suggest you find somewhere high and close to watch. Don't you dare let one of those bastards lay a finger on her, alright?"

Chris laughed. "You're contradicting yourself! It's as if you—"

"I care, Redfield. If it were up to me..." they paused and lowered their tone, "if it were up to me, a lot of things would be different here. People and each other would be different too."

His lips twitched, allowing those words to sink into his skin like someone's touch. Their touch. Chris decided it was best to end the call at that moment before a closeness dawned on them. Their goodbyes were short and empty, and Chris trudged up to his female agent, who awaited up ahead. Travelling further up the path, he explained their target and mission and, although she appeared opposed, she chose not to speak of it.

"We start tonight," he demanded, and, with a nod, she jogged to the guard. Alone, Chris glanced into the seemingly more alive sky hanging over the village and his fists, if not already, clenched tighter.

Damnit Rose, there better be a good explanation to this.