THE WINTER REFUGE: A SURVIVORS' CHRISTMAS
The snow was falling heavily on Barry Burton's isolated mansion in the mountains of British Columbia. Unlike the mansions they usually visited, this one didn't hide laboratories or biological horrors; it smelled of pine, cinnamon, and the turkey roasting in the oven.
In the living room, the fireplace crackled, casting warm shadows over Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine. They shared a sofa, watching the snow through the window.
"It seems surreal, doesn't it?"
Jill murmured, holding a mug of hot chocolate.
"No headphones, no extraction orders... just silence."
Chris smiled, a rare moment of relaxation softening his hardened features.
"We deserve this, Jill. At least for one night."
The front door burst open. Carlos Oliveira entered, brushing the snow off his coat.
"I hope you didn't start the party without some Latin spice! Jill, you're still wonderful, chica."
"Less, Carlos."
Jill laughed, but hugged him warmly. Right behind him, Sheva Alomar entered, bringing with her a warmth that seemed to defy the Canadian winter.
"Chris! It's good to see you haven't turned into a block of ice."
Near the giant Christmas tree, Claire Redfield helped Sherry Birkin and Natalia Korda hang the ornaments. Sherry, now a strong and independent woman, smiled at Claire like the mother figure she had always been.
"Did Jake say he was coming?"
Claire asked quietly.
"He said 'maybe'."
Sherry replied, looking towards the door.
At that moment, Jake Muller entered, trying to maintain his tough-guy facade, but failing miserably when he saw the joy on Sherry's face. He was carrying a box of expensive wines, probably of dubious origin. He exchanged a respectful glance with Leon, who was leaning against the wall near the kitchen.
Leon S. Kennedy looked like he'd stepped out of a noir film, even in a festive setting. He was chatting with Helena Harper.
"Do you still feel guilty for not bringing the right gift, Helena?"
Leon joked, referring to his partner's usual seriousness.
"I just want one night without anything exploding, Leon."
Helena replied with a relieved sigh.
On the covered balcony, Ada Wong's silhouette was visible through the frosted glass. She watched the party from afar, a glass of red wine in her hand. Leon went out to meet her.
"I thought the invitation was just a formality."
Leon said, stopping beside her.
"I like to observe, Leon. And the view from here is... interesting."
Ada replied in her enigmatic tone, though her eyes softened as she looked at him.
"Merry Christmas, Leon."
"Merry Christmas, Ada."
In a more secluded corner, Ethan Winters and Mia watched little Rosemary play with Moira Burton. For the Winters, being there was the culmination of an impossible dream.
"They're good people, Ethan."
Mia whispered, resting her head on her husband's shoulder.
"They're survivors."
Ethan corrected gently.
"Like us."
Rebecca Chambers approached them with a tray of snacks.
"She's beautiful, Ethan. And she has a fascinating immune system."
Rebecca said, her scientist side taking over, before laughing.
"Sorry, I promised not to talk about biology today."
Barry Burton appeared at the head of the table, wearing a "Barbecue Master" apron that Moira had clearly bought to provoke him.
"Alright, everyone! Take your seats!"
Barry thundered in his booming voice.
"I've got enough gunpowder to blow up a Tyrant, but today, the only thing we're going to attack is this turkey!"
The table was a chaotic and wonderful sight:
Ashley Graham laughed at a joke Leon told about the time when she was "just the president's daughter."
Chris and Piers (mentioned in a silent toast) were remembered by Sheva and Jill.
Jake and Sherry shared a knowing look under the mistletoe.
Moira was trying to teach Natalia how to play an old video game, while Barry kept an eye on them.
As midnight approached, silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of burning wood. Chris raised his glass.
"We've been through a lot."
Chris began, looking at each face, Jill, Leon, Claire, Barry.
"We've lost friends. We've seen the worst of humanity. But looking at this room today... seeing that new beginnings like Ethan and Mia's are possible... it reminds us why we fight."
"For those who are gone."
Leon added.
"And for those who are here."
Jill concluded.
"Blessings!"
They all shouted in unison.
For the first time in decades, there were no self-destruct alarms, no countdown timers. Only the sound of laughter and the warmth of a family formed not by blood, but by survival. That night, the world was safe, and the heroes could finally rest.
----
LIGHTS THAT NEVER GO OUT
The snow fell in thick, silent flakes on the makeshift camp known as Aurora Refuge, a safe haven in the heart of a former biological research station isolated in the European mountains. Christmas lights had never seemed so bright as they did there, amidst ruins and somber memories. But this year, for the first time in a long time, there was hope.
Around a large tree decorated with makeshift ornaments, soldiers and survivors gathered, drinking hot coffee and sharing stories. The atmosphere was one of relief, not absolute peace, but a truce as rare as it was precious.
Leon S. Kennedy walked between the barracks, wearing his heavy coat, his watchful eyes still reflecting the traumas of so many battles. Even so… there was a slight smile when he saw someone familiar.
"Claire!"
He called, waving.
Claire Redfield was chatting with Sherry Birkin, who was taking a picture of the tree while laughing. The sweet sound of Sherry's laughter brought a genuine smile to Claire's face.
"Leon! Still going strong?"
Claire replied, approaching.
"At least until yesterday."
He joked, his eyes sparkling.
That's when a murmur at the gate caught everyone's attention, Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine had arrived, accompanied by Rebecca Chambers and a group of survivors. Chris was carrying a huge package on his back, while Jill grumbled about thermal comfort.
"Who let this guy carry the only extra thermal blanket?"
Jill scoffed, glancing at Chris.
He simply smiled, unwavering.
On the opposite side of the camp, more figures appeared in the shadows:
Ada Wong walked with silent steps, observing everything as she always did, nothing escaped her shrewd eyes. When Leon noticed her, she smiled slightly.
"Leon... do you still celebrate insignificant dates?"
She teased.
"Some things are worth celebrating."
He replied, a little more softly than usual.
Meanwhile, Ethan and Mia Winters approached, pushing a small sled loaded with labeled gifts for each child present.
"Rosemary loved doing this."
Mia said, stroking little Rosemary who was sleeping wrapped in a blanket.
Ethan smiled, gazing at his daughter with unwavering love.
Far away, Barry Burton was handing out chocolates with the help of Moira Burton and Natalia Korda/Burton. Moira was trying to convince Natalia to wear a Santa hat.
"Not bad at all."
Natalia murmured, a slight blush spreading across her face.
"That's it, little one! You're going to rock it as a mini-elf!"
Moira encouraged her, smiling.
On the other side, Sheva Alomar and Carlos Oliveira exchanged stories about past battles, laughing while drinking hot chocolate.
"Have you ever thought about decorating the BSAA with Christmas lights?"
Sheva asked.
Carlos laughed.
"Dude... you're getting sentimental!"
When night finally fell, everyone gathered around a large bonfire. Leon climbed onto a box and asked for silence.
"This year… we lost many people."
He began, his voice firm but emotional.
"But we are also here, together. It is for them that we continue."
A chorus of "yes" echoed among those present.
Claire raised a candle, followed by Chris, Jill, Rebecca, Ethan, Mia, Rosemary… each with their own lit flame.
Even Ada, with the most neutral expression possible, lit her candle, reflecting in the flame a look that no one there fully understood, but respected.
Rebecca passed small packages to Sheva, Carlos, and the children, inside were small toys and personalized letters.
"Papers we wrote yesterday."
Rebecca explained shyly.
"Nothing technological… just from the heart."
Sherry opened one of her gifts, a small compass, engraved with "For your next adventure." Her eyes lit up.
"Thank you."
She murmured, looking at Claire gratefully.
Meanwhile, Ethan opened a package that read, "For the best dad in the world." Inside, a keychain shaped like a guarded trench, an inside joke with Mia. He looked at Mia, his voice filled with emotion.
"You always find a way to bring the light back on."
He said.
Jill pulled out an old radio, and Rebecca, to everyone's surprise, began to sing a Christmas carol softly but beautifully, her voice filled the cold air with warmth.
Leon, Chris, Claire, and even Ada joined in, forming an impromptu song. Soon, everyone was participating, including children who ran around with laughter that sounded like pure melody.
Even Barry, normally so serious, had a proud smile as he looked at his makeshift, yet real, family.
Suddenly, a loud bang ripped through the night sky.
Everyone froze, candles flickered, someone looked towards the edge of the camp.
"Possibly infected?"
Sheva asked, already drawing her weapon.
Carlos smiled beside her, reaching out to hold her hand for a second.
"Together, right?"
Sheva simply nodded.
Leon looked at Chris, then at Jill.
"Protect the civilians. We'll go check."
While some formed a defense group, Leon, Claire, Chris, and Jill ran toward the noise.
But when they arrived at the location… they saw something strange.
They weren't monsters, just a huge bear trapped in ancient snares, struggling and growling. The sight was both terrifying and… sad.
"What the hell..."
Jill muttered, weapons lowered.
Chris carefully placed his hands on the bear's back, assessing the situation.
"He just wants to get out of here."
Chris said.
Leon sighed and looked at the group approaching behind them, including Ethan and Mia.
Mia walked over to the animal, with Rosemary in her arms, singing softly.
And then, like a miracle that only Christmas could explain… the bear calmed down.
It was a moment hard to believe, but there it was: an angry creature transformed into respectful silence before the child's innocence.
The bear was helped to escape into the forest, unharmed, not hostile, simply following its own path.
The group returned to camp under the starry sky, feeling a kind of surrender to hope that they had all almost forgotten how to feel.
Rebecca offered more hot chocolate. Sherry gave little hugs to each adult who passed by.
Ada approached Leon, gazing at the lights in the tree.
"Tomorrow… maybe I'll leave."
She said bluntly.
"But tonight… was… bearable."
Leon gave a half-smile.
"Bearable is a start, Ada."
When the night ended and the candles began to go out, each one returned to their corner, leaders, warriors, scars, and smiles. But something had changed.
For several hours, no zombies roared, no attacks came. There was only humanity.
And beneath the snow that continued to fall, each heart there felt lighter.
Because, on Christmas Eve, even the survivors of darkness found a spark of light, and decided to keep it burning.
A Christmas none of them will forget.
----
THE FAMILY WE CHOOSE
The snow didn't fall in the mountains of Colorado; it descended like a silent curtain, muffling the world and turning the pine trees into jagged, white ghosts. Inside the secluded cabin, a safehouse owned by the BSAA but scrubbed of its tactical coldness for the week, the air was thick with the scent of cedarwood, roasted rosemary, and something far rarer for this group: peace.
Leon S. Kennedy stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, a glass of amber bourbon forgotten in his hand. He wasn't looking for monsters in the treeline anymore. He was watching the reflection of the room behind him in the glass.
In the reflection, he saw Claire Redfield. She was kneeling by the fireplace, her signature crimson jacket replaced by a thick, cream-colored cable-knit sweater. She was laughing as she helped Sherry Birkin untangle a string of stubborn LED lights.
Watching them, Leon felt a familiar, rhythmic ache in his chest. Every time he saw them together, his mind involuntarily flickered back to the rain-slicked streets of Raccoon City, to the girl in the biker shorts and the terrified child in the school uniform. They were his "Ground Zero." They were the reason he hadn't let the government turn him into a complete machine.
"You're brooding again, Kennedy."
A voice rasped.
Leon turned to see Chris Redfield leaning against the doorframe, two heavy mugs of coffee in his hands. Chris looked different without his tactical vest, broader, perhaps, but also more tired.
"Just thinking about how much has changed."
Leon replied, nodding toward Claire and Sherry.
"And how much hasn't."
Chris walked over, handing one mug to Leon and taking a seat in a heavy leather armchair.
"I spent years trying to keep Claire out of this mess. And look at her now. She's the heart of TerraSave. And Sherry... she's a better agent than both of us combined."
"She had good teachers."
Leon said quietly.
"She had a family."
Chris corrected, looking Leon straight in the eye.
"Even if that family was forged in a nightmare."
Sherry Birkin, now a woman of incredible resolve and strength, felt the weight of their gaze. She looked up and beamed, her blue eyes bright.
"Hey! If you two 'old men' are just going to stand there and talk shop, you're grounded from the eggnog."
"Old men?"
Chris feigned offense.
"I'll have you know I can still outrun a boulder, Sherry."
Claire stood up, wiping dust from her jeans, and walked over to Leon. She didn't stand at a distance; she stepped into his space, her shoulder brushing his arm.
The familiarity was effortless, built over decades of cryptic phone calls, shared files, and the unspoken trauma of being the world's most famous survivors.
"He's right, you know."
Claire whispered to Leon, her voice for his ears only.
"You've been staring at the snow for twenty minutes. Come back to us, Leon."
Leon finally set his glass down. He reached out, his fingers grazing the back of Claire's hand before he gathered the courage to lace his fingers through hers. It was a bold move for a man who usually kept his heart behind bulletproof glass.
Claire didn't pull away. She squeezed his hand, her thumb tracing the line of his knuckles.
"I'm here."
Leon said, and for the first time in a long time, he meant it.
In the kitchen, Jill Valentine was the picture of military precision applied to culinary arts. She was slicing a honey-glazed ham with the same focus she used to disarm bombs.
"Need a hand, Jill?"
Claire asked, walking in with Sherry.
"I've got it under control."
Jill smiled, though the smile reached her eyes more slowly than it used to. The blonde was gone, her hair back to its natural brown, bobbed at the chin.
"But Sherry, if you could set the table? Chris is useless at aesthetics. He thinks 'setting the table' means putting a fork next to a ration pack."
The dinner was a loud, warm affair. It was the kind of normalcy they had all fought for but rarely touched.
They talked about everything except the work. They talked about movies they had missed, books Claire was reading, and the small apartment Sherry was thinking of renting in DC.
"I want a garden."
Sherry said, her face lit by candlelight.
"Just something small. No secrets underneath it. Just flowers."
"You deserve a whole park, kiddo."
Leon said.
As the night wore on, Chris and Jill drifted toward the porch to share a quiet moment of their own, a partnership that transcended words. That left Leon, Claire, and Sherry in the living room, the fire dying down to a warm, orange glow.
Sherry eventually succumbed to the long day, curling up on the smaller sofa with a blanket. She fell asleep with the ease of someone who finally felt safe.
Leon and Claire sat on the rug, leaning against the base of the sofa. The silence between them wasn't empty; it was heavy with twenty-five years of "what ifs."
"Do you ever think about that night?"
Claire asked suddenly.
"Not the monsters. But the train. When we finally got out, and the sun started to come up."
"Every day."
Leon admitted.
"I remember thinking that if I could just stay in that moment, with you and the kid, maybe the rest of the world wouldn't matter."
Claire turned her head to look at him.
"Why didn't we, Leon? Why did we let them pull us apart?"
Leon sighed, the sound ragged.
"Because I was a cop who wanted to save everyone, and you were a sister who had to find her brother. We were kids, Claire. We were broken."
"We aren't kids anymore."
Claire said. She reached up, her hand cupping his jaw. Her skin was warm, a sharp contrast to the cold air outside.
"And we aren't as broken as we used to be."
Leon leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. The "Super Agent," the "Hero of the Presidency," the man who had faced the Plagas and lived, he felt small in the best way possible.
"I've spent my life running toward the fire, Claire."
Leon whispered.
"I forgot that I needed a place to go when the fire went out."
"You have a place."
Claire said softly.
"You've always had a place with me."
She leaned in, and when their lips met, it wasn't like a movie. It was desperate, grounding, and tasted of years of suppressed longing. It was a promise made in the ruins of Raccoon City finally being kept in the mountains of Colorado.
Outside on the porch, Chris and Jill watched the light through the window. They saw Leon and Claire, two people who had spent their lives protecting others, finally protecting each other.
Jill leaned her head on Chris's shoulder.
"About time, don't you think?"
Chris let out a heavy breath, a plume of white in the freezing air.
"Yeah. About damn time. I can't think of anyone I'd rather have as a brother-in-law than the guy who helped my sister survive the worst night of her life."
"He's a good man, Chris."
Jill said.
"He's family."
Chris replied.
Christmas morning arrived with a pale, crystal-blue sky. The world was buried in three feet of fresh powder.
Inside, the scene was one of rare domesticity. Sherry was the first one up, making cocoa for everyone.
Chris and Jill were outside, clearing a path to the vehicles, their laughter echoing off the trees as they engaged in a surprisingly tactical snowball fight.
Leon woke up on the sofa, Claire's head resting on his chest. He didn't move for a long time. He just watched the way the morning light caught the red in her hair.
For the first time since September 1998, Leon didn't feel like he was waiting for a siren to go off. He didn't feel like he was waiting for the next mission.
Sherry walked into the room, holding two mugs. She stopped, seeing them together, and a look of pure, unadulterated joy crossed her face.
She didn't say a word; she just set the mugs on the coffee table and sat on the floor near them, leaning her head against Leon's knee.
The three of them, the survivor, the protector, and the girl who became the bridge between them, sat in the silence of a world that was, for one day, perfectly at peace.
It wasn't a mission. It wasn't a biological outbreak. It was just Christmas. And for the survivors of Raccoon City, that was the greatest miracle of all.
----
THE WINTER BLOOM: A GHOST AT THE TABLE
The village in the shadow of the mountains was no longer a place of lycans and ancient rituals. It had been rebuilt, stone by stone, into a quiet sanctuary.
But for the Winters family, "home" was never a place; it was the person standing next to you.
Chris Redfield pulled his heavy SUV to a stop in front of a modern cottage tucked away in the European countryside. The engine ticked as it cooled, the only sound in the snowy silence.
He looked at the passenger seat, not at a weapon, but at a box of expensive chocolates and a vintage bottle of wine.
He stepped out, his boots crunching on the fresh powder. At sixty-six, Chris was a titan of a man who refused to crumble. His hair was silver at the temples, and his face was a roadmap of every war the world had forgotten, but his eyes softened as the front door swung open.
"Uncle Chris!"
Rosemary Winters didn't walk; she moved with a grace that felt almost ethereal. Now in her early twenties, she was the perfect blend of her parents, Mia's eyes and Ethan's stubborn jawline.
She threw her arms around the old soldier, and for a moment, the man who had killed gods was just a tired uncle coming home for dinner.
"You'm growing taller every time I see you, Rose."
Chris grunted with a smile, patting her back.
"And you're getting grumpier."
She teased, pulling him inside.
"Mom's in the kitchen. And... he's in the garden."
In the backyard, framed by a frost-covered trellis, stood Ethan Winters.
To the rest of the world, Ethan Winters was a legend, a name on a memorial plaque at the BSAA headquarters. But here, in this pocket of reality protected by secret treaties and Rose's own incredible abilities, Ethan was simply a man trying to fix a birdhouse.
He wore a thick flannel shirt, and his hands, scarred, reattached, and miraculous, worked the wood with steady precision. He turned as Chris approached.
"You're late, Redfield."
Ethan said, his voice raspy but warm.
"The pass was blocked. Had to winch a local out of a ditch."
Chris replied, standing beside him. He looked at Ethan, really looked at him.
There was a slight translucence to Ethan's skin in the moonlight, a reminder that he was more than human, a walking miracle of biological endurance.
"How are you holding up?"
Ethan looked at his hands, then at the golden light spilling from the house where Rose and Mia were laughing.
"I'm here, Chris. Every day is a gift I didn't think I'd get to open. I still feel the cold more than I used to, but... I'm here."
Inside, the house was a fortress of warmth. Mia Winters was at the stove, the steam from a pot of coq au vin fogging her glasses. She looked younger than she had in years. The shadows that had haunted her since the Annabelle had finally begun to recede.
"Chris, if you brought more tactical gear as a 'gift' for Rose, I'm throwing it in the fire."
Mia joked, wiping her hands on her apron to give him a brief, one-armed hug.
"It's just wine, Mia. I promise."
Chris laughed.
The four of them sat at a round wooden table. It was a scene that shouldn't have been possible. In any other version of history, Ethan was a pile of dust in an explosion, and Mia was a widow.
But Rose's connection to the Mold, her ability to hold onto the "memories" stored in the fungal consciousness, had allowed for something unprecedented.
She had reached into the abyss and pulled her father back, strand by strand.
As they ate, the conversation drifted. Rose talked about her studies, her voice animated. She was learning to use her "gifts" not as a weapon, but as a bridge to understanding cellular regeneration.
"I had a dream about the Duke last night."
Rose said suddenly, a small smile playing on her lips.
"He was complaining that the Christmas crackers didn't have enough 'flavor'."
Ethan chuckled.
"That sounds like him. He always did have a flair for the dramatic."
Chris watched them, the family he had nearly torn apart in his quest to save the world.
"I spent a long time thinking I knew what was best for you all."
Chris said, his voice dropping an octave.
"In the village... when I took Rose... I thought I was protecting the future. I didn't realize the future was already sitting at this table."
Ethan reached across the table, his hand finding Mia's.
"We don't blame you anymore, Chris. You gave us the chance to be a family again. Even if it's a strange one."
After dinner, Rose led them to the living room. Under the tree sat a single, small box wrapped in plain brown paper.
"This is for all of us."
Rose said.
She opened the box. Inside was an old, battered video camera, the one from the Dulvey estate, meticulously repaired.
Beside it was a stack of digitized tapes.
"I found these in the BSAA archives."
Chris admitted.
"I had the tech guys clean them up."
They turned on the television. The screen flickered to life. It wasn't a recording of a monster or a lab. It was a grainy, sun-drenched video of Ethan and Mia in their first apartment in Texas, long before the phone call from Dulvey.
Ethan was laughing, trying to cook an omelet while Mia filmed him, teasing him about his lack of culinary skills.
"Mia, put the camera away! You're going to make me burn it!"
The younger Ethan on screen shouted, grinning.
In the living room, the "modern" Ethan watched his younger self. Tears welled in his eyes, but they didn't fall.
He felt Rose's hand on his shoulder and Mia's head on his chest.
"You were so handsome."
Mia whispered.
"I was so clueless."
Ethan replied.
Late into the night, after Mia and Rose had gone upstairs, Chris and Ethan sat by the dying embers of the fire.
"She's powerful, Ethan."
Chris said, staring into the flames.
"The BSAA... they still want her. There are others too. The connections she has... she's the most important biological asset on the planet."
Ethan's eyes turned hard, the eyes of the man who had fought a giant hammer-wielding mutant with nothing but a handgun and a prayer.
"She isn't an 'asset', Chris. She's my daughter."
"I know."
Chris nodded.
"And as long as I'm breathing, no one touches her. But you know the world is getting crazier."
"Then we'll get crazier too."
Ethan said. He stood up, his frame silhouetted by the fire.
"I've died once for her, Chris. I'll do it a thousand times more if I have to. But for tonight... tonight, she's just a girl at Christmas."
As the sun began to rise on Christmas morning, painting the snowy peaks in hues of violet and gold, Rosemary Winters stood on the balcony.
She closed her eyes and felt the world. She could feel the pulse of the earth, the dormant life beneath the snow, and the steady, rhythmic heartbeats of her parents and the man who had become her guardian.
She raised her hand, and for a fleeting second, a small, crystalline flower made of pure white calcified matter bloomed in her palm. It didn't represent death or infection.
It was a Winter bloom, a symbol of survival.
She let the wind take it, turning it into dust that mingled with the falling snow.
Downstairs, she heard her father's voice calling her for breakfast. She turned away from the cold and walked toward the light, leaving the shadows of the past exactly where they belonged: behind her.
The Winters family was whole. And in a world of monsters, that was the greatest victory of all.
----
THE CHRISTMAS PROTOCOL: A TRUCE IN THE SHADOWS
The snow fell like white ashes on the mountains of British Columbia, but for the first time in decades there was no smell of ozone, decay, or chemicals in the air.
Atop a secluded hill, Barry Burton's estate, a fortress of wood and stone, shone with golden lights that defied the darkness of the forest.
Inside, the warmth of the fireplace was so intense that it almost made one forget that, outside, the world was still a dangerous place.
But there, under the Burtons' roof, the "Christmas Protocol" was in effect: weapons in the entrance safe, no mention of Umbrella or BSAA, and enough alcohol to knock out a Hunter.
Chris Redfield was in the kitchen, helping Barry with the turkey. His arms, which had once pounded volcanic rocks, were now beating bread dough with disproportionate intensity.
"Chris, it's bread dough, not a Ganado. Relax."
Barry laughed, adjusting his apron that read The Master of Unlocking (The Grill).
"Habits are hard to break, Barry."
Chris replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. He glanced into the living room, where Jill Valentine was chatting animatedly with Sheva Alomar.
Seeing Jill laughing, free from the weight of Wesker's brainwashing or the trauma of Raccoon City, was the only gift Chris truly wanted.
Sheva talked about the heat of Africa, while Jill described the icy trails she hiked to keep her mind occupied. The connection between Chris's two partners was instant.
"Has he always been this stubborn?"
Sheva asked, pointing at Chris.
"You have no idea."
Jill winked.
Near the window, Leon S. Kennedy watched the horizon with his usual heroic melancholy.
He wore a dark blue turtleneck sweater, looking more like a magazine model than a federal agent who had already confronted cults and empires.
"Thoughtful as always, Leon."
A velvety female voice came from behind him.
He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Ada Wong was there, wearing a red silk dress that defied the mountain chill.
She held a glass of wine with the elegance of someone who possesses all the secrets of the world.
"I thought you were on a mission in Asia, Ada."
Leon said, finally looking at her.
"The client can wait. Some invitations are... irresistible."
She commented, moving closer to him. For a brief moment, there were no spy games. Just two survivors of a dead city, sharing the silence of winter.
On the main sofa, Claire Redfield was surrounded. In her lap, little Rosemary Winters tugged at strands of her red hair, while Ethan Winters and Mia watched with tired but genuine smiles.
"She likes you, Claire."
Ethan said. For him, being there was like a fever dream.
After the horrors in Louisiana and Europe, seeing people like Chris and Leon, whom he viewed as almost mythical figures, eating snacks and complaining about the price of gasoline was surreal.
"I have a way with children who have experienced trauma."
Claire smiled, looking meaningfully at Sherry Birkin, who was sitting next to Jake Muller.
Sherry, now a high-ranking federal agent, was beaming. She held Jake's hand under the coffee table.
Jake, Albert Wesker's son, looked the most uncomfortable of all. He wore a leather jacket and swung his leg nervously until Carlos Oliveira sat down next to him with a loud thud.
"Hey, kid, relax! You look like you're expecting Nemesis to come down the chimney."
Carlos joked, offering Jake a beer.
"I'm Carlos. I survived Raccoon City with nothing but a rifle and fantastic hair."
Jake let out a short laugh, the tension leaving his shoulders.
"Jake. And I survived China with this blonde here giving me orders."
"She's good at this."
Interjected Helena Harper, who joined the group. She and Sherry shared stories about the burden of working for the U.S. government, while Rebecca Chambers tried to explain to Ashley Graham the benefits of certain medicinal herbs she had brought (in tea form, this time).
"So, Leon really did rescue you from a cult in Spain?"
Rebecca asked, with curiosity.
"He hasn't changed a bit. He's still my knight in shining armor... even though he's given me plenty of brush-offs."
Ashley replied with a sigh.
The kitchen was the heart of chaos. Moira Burton was arguing with her father about the Christmas playlist.
"Dad, nobody wants to listen to Frank Sinatra all night! Put on something from the '90s!"
"It's a classic, Moira! Respect the classics!"
Barry exclaimed, while Natalia Korda (now Natalia Burton) watched everything with a serene and profound gaze. She held a new teddy bear, but her eyes occasionally sparkled with an intelligence that didn't belong to a young girl her age.
Ethan Winters approached Barry.
"Thank you for having us, Mr. Burton. Chris told us this would be the safest place in the world."
"You can call me Barry, kid. And safe? With this bunch of disaster magnets in here? I doubt it!"
Barry laughed, giving Ethan a friendly pat on the back that almost knocked him over.
"But as long as the fire's burning, we're just neighbors."
When the table was finally set, the scene was worthy of a painting. Twenty people who, on any other day, would have been on different battlefields, were now squeezed around a solid oak table.
Barry stood at the headboard, raising his favorite mug.
"I'm not good with words, you know that. I prefer the sound of a .44 Magnum."
Barry began, drawing laughter from Jill and Chris.
"But looking at this table makes me think about how lucky we are. Each of us here should be dead ten times over. We've been through hell, we've lost people we loved... but hell didn't want us. And now, we have each other."
He looked at Natalia, Moira, and Sherry.
"For the future generations. So that they don't have to carry the burden we carry."
"Cheers!"
The chorus of voices echoed, making the windows vibrate.
During dinner, the interactions were precious:
Leon and Carlos were arguing about who had the best knife fighting technique.
Claire and Jill were exchanging notes about the Redfields. "Chris is an idiot sometimes, but he would die for us." Claire said, and Jill simply nodded with a look of "I know that."
Sheva and Helena were talking about the difficulties of being the voice of reason for impulsive partners.
Mia Winters spoke with Rebecca about the biological aftereffects of their respective incidents, finding mutual comfort.
After the meal, the group dispersed. Some went to the balcony to see the snow, others stayed around the fireplace.
Chris met Ethan on the outside porch. The cool air was refreshing.
"How are you coping with everything, Ethan?"
Chris asked, his voice low.
"Sometimes I still see the mold, Chris. Sometimes I wake up thinking I'm still in the Baker's bakery."
Ethan confessed.
"But then I see Rose and Mia. And I realize the sacrifice was worth it."
Chris nodded.
"I lost my entire team in China. And in Europe. The burden never gets lighter, Ethan. You only get stronger to carry it."
On the other side, in the snow-covered garden, Leon and Ada were walking.
"You're going to disappear again before dawn, aren't you?"
Leon asked, the smoke from his breath visible in the cold.
Ada stopped and adjusted Leon's scarf.
"It's my style, Leon. But know one thing... of all the places I could be in the world today, I chose to be here. With you."
She placed a chaste, quick kiss on his cheek and walked towards the shadows of the trees, disappearing like a red ghost in the snow, leaving Leon with a half-smile on his face.
Inside the house, the music changed to something soft. Jake and Sherry were in a corner, dancing awkwardly. Jake, the mercenary who only cared about money, now seemed like just a young man in love.
Ashley and Moira were trying to convince Carlos to sing karaoke, while Jill sat down at the piano and began to play a soft melody she had learned years ago.
The music filled the house, uniting the conversations in perfect harmony.
Near the fireplace, Natalia stared intently at the fire. Barry sat down beside her.
"Everything alright, little one?"
"Yes, Barry."
She replied in a voice that seemed to echo.
"For a moment, the voices fell silent. The world is at peace."
Barry hugged her, knowing that "peace" was a fragile concept for them, but that night, it was real.
As dawn approached, exhaustion overcame the warriors.
Chris and Jill ended up falling asleep on the couch, Jill's head on Chris's shoulder, as if they had spent years waiting for that rest.
Sherry and Jake were asleep in the armchair, their hands still clasped.
Ethan and Mia had retired to their room with little Rose.
Leon remained on the balcony, watching the entrance, the eternal sentinel, but now with an expression of serenity.
The sun began to rise from behind the mountains, painting the snow pink and gold. There were no radio calls. There were no virus outbreaks.
That was the Christmas when the survivors stopped merely surviving and began, for a few hours, to truly live.
They knew that tomorrow would bring new horrors and new missions, but the memory of that night when they were all together, the living, the heroes, and the friends, would be the ammunition they needed to face any darkness that came next.
Happy Christmas, Resident Evil.
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